She didn’t want to. Their lips met softly at first, tentative, questioning. But then Christopher made a low sound in his throat and pulled her closer, one hand sliding into her hair while the other wrapped around her waist, and the kiss deepened into something that stole her breath and made her knees weak.
Madison’s hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to eliminate any space between them. He tasted like coffee and something uniquely him, and she never wanted this to end. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Christopher rested his forehead against hers.
«I’ve wanted to do that for three years,» he admitted.
«You should have done it sooner.»
«I was an idiot.»
«You were scared.»
«Same thing.» He pulled back to look at her, his blue eyes dark with want. «But I’m not scared anymore.»
«Liar! You’re terrified. I can feel your heart racing.»
«OK, I’m terrified. But I’m doing it anyway.»
Madison smiled, reaching up to trace his jaw. «That’s called being brave, not stupid.»
«With you, same thing.»
She laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, slower this time, sweeter. When they broke apart, she was smiling against his lips.
«We should tell my family,» she said. «The truth. That this started as fake but became real.»
Christopher tensed. «Are you sure?»
«They deserve to know. And I’m tired of pretending. Even pretending that we’re pretending.» She laced her fingers through his. «I want this to be real in every way. No more lies.»
«OK.» He kissed her forehead. «We’ll tell them together. At Christmas Eve dinner.»
«Christmas Eve dinner,» she agreed.
What neither of them knew was that Christmas Eve was going to bring more than just confessions. It was going to change everything.
The next two days passed in a blur of family activities and stolen moments. Christopher found himself existing in a strange limbo. They’d kissed, they’d confessed their feelings, but they hadn’t told anyone yet. To the family, they were still the perfect couple who’d been together for six months. Only Christopher and Madison knew the truth was far more complicated and far more real.
The night before Christmas Eve, Christopher couldn’t sleep. Again. But this time it wasn’t because of unfulfilled longing or confusion. It was anticipation. Tomorrow they’d tell the truth. Tomorrow everything would change. Again.
He heard movement from Madison’s side of the bed. The pillow wall had been officially abandoned days ago. Now they just slept together, tangled up in each other, pretending it was accidental even though they both knew better.
«Can’t sleep,» she whispered.
«No. You?»
«My brain won’t shut off.» She rolled over to face him in the darkness. «I keep thinking about tomorrow. What if they’re angry? What if they think we made fools of them?»
«They won’t.»
«How do you know?»
«Because they’ve watched us fall in love in real time. Whether we were faking it or not at the beginning doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s real now.» He felt her hand find his under the covers, their fingers intertwining.
«When did you get so wise?» she asked.
«About three years ago when I met this writer who challenged everything I thought I knew about connection and vulnerability and what it means to really let someone in.»
Even in the dark, he could hear her smile. «Smooth talker.»
«Only with you.»
They lay in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Madison sat up suddenly.
«I can’t just lie here. I need to move or think or… I don’t know, something.»
Christopher sat up too. «What did you have in mind?»
«I don’t know. Go for a walk? Count sheep? Learn to juggle?»
He laughed and got out of bed, extending his hand. «I have a better idea.»
Madison’s POV
Madison let Christopher pull her out of bed and into the living room. He didn’t turn on any lights. He just walked over to the old radio her mother kept on the shelf and turned it on low. Soft music filled the room—something slow and jazzy, the kind of song that belonged in old movies.
«What are you doing?» Madison asked.
«Something I’ve wanted to do since the night we agreed to this insane plan.» He held out his hand. «Dance with me.»
«Christopher…»
«No audience. No performance. Just us.» His eyes found hers in the dim light streaming through the windows. «Dance with me, Madison.»
She took his hand. He pulled her close, one hand settling on her waist, the other holding hers. Madison’s free hand came up to rest on his shoulder, and they began to sway to the music.
«You’re a good dancer,» she observed.
«I took lessons. For business events.»
«Of course you did.»
«What’s that supposed to mean?»
«It means you’re annoyingly perfect at everything.»
«I’m terrible at ice skating.»
«One thing. You’re bad at one thing.»
«I’m also bad at pretending I’m not completely in love with you.» He pulled her closer until there was barely any space between them. «I’ve been terrible at that for years.»
Madison rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. «Why didn’t you tell me before all this?»
«Fear. Cowardice. The certainty that you’d never see me as anything more than a friend.» He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. «Take your pick.»
«I was an idiot too. I convinced myself that what I felt was just normal best friend affection. That the reason my heart raced when you smiled at me was just—I don’t know—caffeine.»
Christopher laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. «Caffeine?»
«I was in denial. It seemed logical at the time.»
He spun her gently, then pulled her back in. Madison went willingly, fitting against him like she was made to be there.
«Can I tell you something?» she asked quietly.
«Always.»
«That first morning, when we woke up tangled together…» She felt him tense slightly. «I didn’t want you to let go. I pretended to be upset or surprised, but really, I just wanted to stay there forever.»
«Madison…»
«And every morning since then, when I wake up in your arms, I have this moment of perfect happiness before reality sets in and I remember that this is all temporary. Or it was supposed to be temporary.» She pulled back to look at him. «But it’s not anymore, is it? This is real.»
«This is real,» he confirmed, his voice rough with emotion. «This is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.»
The song changed to something even slower, more intimate. They kept dancing, barely moving now, just swaying together in the darkened living room.
«I’m scared about tomorrow,» Madison admitted.
«Me too.»
«What if everything falls apart?»
Christopher stopped dancing. His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. «Then we’ll put it back together. But Madison, I don’t think it will. Your family loves you, they want you to be happy, and if you’re happy with me, if we’re happy together, that’s all that will matter to them.»
«When did you become so sure about us?»
«The moment I woke up with you in my arms and realized I never wanted to wake up any other way.»
Madison’s heart felt too full for her chest. She reached up on her toes and kissed him, soft and sweet and full of promise. When they broke apart, Christopher rested his forehead against hers.
«Stay here,» he whispered. «Just for a minute. Let me pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.»
«It doesn’t,» she whispered back. «Right now. It’s just us.»
They stood there in the middle of the living room, wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying to music that had long since ended, existing in a moment that felt stolen from time itself.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, Madison woke to sunlight and the smell of coffee. She stretched, smiling at the memory of dancing with Christopher in the dark. They’d stayed up until almost three, talking and laughing and stealing kisses like teenagers.
She found him in the kitchen, making breakfast. He looked up when she entered, and his entire face transformed—that smile that was only for her.
«Morning, beautiful.»
«Morning.» She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face against his back.
«You’re making eggs.»
«I’m attempting eggs. The jury’s still out on whether they’re edible.»
«You’re a tech genius who runs a billion-dollar company. I think you can handle scrambled eggs.»
«You’d think that. You’d be wrong.»
She laughed and released him, moving to pour coffee. They moved around each other with easy familiarity, and Madison marvelled at how natural this felt, like they’d been doing this for years, like they were meant to do this for years more.
«So,» Christopher said, plating the eggs, which actually looked good. «Tonight’s the night. We tell your family everything.»
«Tonight’s the night,» Madison confirmed, accepting the plate he handed her.
«Are you ready?»
«As ready as I’ll ever be.» He sat across from her at the small table. «Although I have to admit, part of me wants to just keep lying. Tell them we’ve been together for six months like we planned. Skip the whole ‘this started as fake’ confession.»
«We could,» Madison said slowly, «but then we’d be starting this relationship with a lie, and I don’t want that.»
«Neither do I.» He reached across the table to take her hand. «We do this together. Whatever happens.»
«Whatever happens,» she agreed.
What they didn’t know was that «whatever happens» was going to involve a lot more drama than either of them anticipated because the Carter family was about to get a crash course in how fake dating becomes real love, and it was going to be spectacular.
The Christmas Eve dinner was being held at Madison’s mother’s house, which meant the place was decorated within an inch of its life: lights everywhere, garlands on every surface, and a tree so large it probably required structural engineering approval. Madison and Christopher arrived together, hands clasped, both trying to mask their nervousness with smiles.
«Ready?» he whispered as they approached the door.
«Not even a little bit. We could run, start new lives in Canada.»
«Tempting, but I don’t think I could pull off the whole living-off-the-grid thing. You’re a writer. You could work from anywhere.»
«Christopher, I once cried because my Wi-Fi went down for twenty minutes.»
He laughed, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. «Fair point. Okay. Plan A it is. We tell them the truth.»
The door swung open before they could knock. Madison’s grandmother stood there, resplendent in a red sweater covered in sequins and what appeared to be actual bells.
«There they are! The lovebirds!» She pulled them both inside. «You’re just in time. Your mother is having a minor breakdown because the turkey is taking too long, and Andrew is interrogating the neighbor’s cat about suspicious behavior.»
«That sounds normal,» Madison said.
«For this family? Absolutely.» Her grandmother winked. «Now come on. We’re playing a game before dinner.»
Madison and Christopher exchanged glances. Games in this family were never simple.
They found the rest of the family in the living room. Layla looked better, still sad, but lighter somehow, like a weight had been lifted. Her mother was indeed fussing over the turkey situation, and Andrew was at the window with binoculars muttering about «feline espionage.»
«Madison! Christopher!» Her mother rushed over. «Thank goodness. We need even teams for the game.»
«What game?» Christopher asked cautiously.
«The Newlywed Game. Well, the couple’s version. We did it last year, and it was such fun.»
Madison felt Christopher’s hand tighten on hers. Of course. Of course this would be the game.
They settled onto the couch, Madison’s mother hosting with unnecessary gravitas. Layla volunteered to keep score, and Andrew put away his binoculars with obvious reluctance.
«First question,» her mother announced. «Madison, what would Christopher say is your most annoying habit?»
Madison thought about it. «That I leave coffee cups everywhere? Or that I rewrite the same paragraph seventeen times?»
«Christopher, what’s your answer?»
«That she apologizes for things that aren’t her fault,» he said softly, looking at Madison. «She says sorry when someone bumps into her, when the weather is bad, when things beyond her control go wrong. I wish she knew she didn’t have to apologize for existing in the world.»
The room went quiet.
«Well,» her mother said, clearing her throat, «that’s… very specific and sweet. One point.»
«Christopher,» Andrew said, leaning forward, «what’s Madison’s biggest fear?»
«Being forgotten,» Christopher answered immediately. «She’s afraid that after she’s gone nobody will remember she was here. That her stories won’t matter. That she won’t matter.»
Madison’s eyes stung. He’d said this before, but hearing it again, knowing he really understood her that deeply, made her chest ache.
«How do you know that?» her mother asked, puzzled. «Madison’s never told me that.»
«She didn’t have to tell me,» Christopher said. «I pay attention.»
Madison squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.