Page 72 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

“A bunnicorn.”

“Oh my God, is that a bunny with a horn?”

“It sure is.”

“Does it have magic?”

“Unclear for now.”

“Is it yours?”

“Of course not. I don’t have pets.”

“Is it cute?”

“How would I know? It’s a rabbit.”

“You are the worst. Your heart is a piece of lumpy coal.”

I grin. “But you still love me.”

“Yes, I do. Now. Get out there and win the competition for your resort.”

“You got it, sis.”

“Love you, dickhead.”

“Love you.”

We hang up and I fall back on the bed, thoughts racing. Cristina could get sick. I could let her down. But somehow worse than both of those is: I could be happy.

The room tilts a degree. Happiness feels like a step onto black ice.

I sit up and drop my elbows to my knees. In the corner of the room, the bunnicorn watches me from its cage.

“Hey there, little Flame,” I murmur. “Did you miss me?”

The bunnicorn hops toward me. I get up and lift the door, picking up the creature and hugging it to my chest.

I don’t do this. Not with anyone watching. Not with family.

“I brought you a treat.” I pull a small bag from my pocket and open it. The smell of fresh greenery from the top of a carrot fills the room. It smells like spring.

As the bunnicorn nibbles on it, a smile creeps over my face. “I thought you’d like that.”

I hear Cristina enter her room. Quickly, I place the bunnicorn back in the cage and lower the gate.

A few seconds later, she knocks on the adjoining door.

“Hey,” she says when I answer.

Her hair’s in a ponytail, and she smells clean and warm—like comfort. “Hey.”

“How’s the bunnicorn?”

“Fine. I guess. I just got back.”

“Can I see him?”