Fake It ‘Til You Sleigh It

EPILOGUE

Chase

“Everyone, if we don’t get this shot off before lunch, the boss lady is gonna have my balls for dinner!” Ethan’s voice booms through the bullhorn.

I smirk, watching from my director’s chair as he walks by me to his own. Both of us are laser-focused on the monitors, evaluating the scene we’re filming. Well, he’s laser-focused. I’m 60% focused with at least 40% of my focus on how good his butt looks in those jeans.

Cut me some slack. He’s my boyfriend—it’s okay if I peek.

I tilt my head over and graze the inside of his ear with my tongue, knowing how it drives him bonkers. “Or,” I whisper in my sultriest voice, “we could stop early for lunch, go to my trailer, and I can have your balls right now.”

Ethan’s face goes serious like he is about to deliver a TED Talk. “Sweetheart, we’re already over budget. We have to wrap this scene. If we don’t, it’s going to mess with tomorrow’s schedule.”

“Babe, I know. I used to do this without you,” I say.

He cracks a grin. “If you hit your cues in the first take, I’ll do that thing you liked in the shower last night when we get home.”

“Ugh. But memorizing lines is so hard,” I fake groan because I can’t resist pushing his buttons (it’s basically my full-time job now) . “Besides, it doesn’t matter. We both know you’re going to do your shower tongue trick either way.”

He glances over, but I’ve switched to be all about the monitors again. I want to make sure everything is perfect for the next shot. I still can’t wrap my head around it. We are making a movie.

About us.

Starring us.

Directed by us.

The set mimics the Barrett family living room at Christmas, but let’s be real—no one can capture Darla’s unique flair. To give it that extra, over-the-top touch, she sent me tons of Nolan-designed items from her shop. We’re talking plastic flamingos in every shape and size, tacky alligators donning Santa hats, and enough floral-print throw pillows to make a botanical garden jealous.

Our Christmas movie, Fa La La Love, was a ratings sensation. Watching our real-life love story unfold onstage brought in a staggering 2.5 million new subscribers, probably all hoping to catch a glimpse of Ethan’s abs. Not that I can blame them.

Since then, Cherish Channel viewers have been begging for a film about our relationship… starring us. The fans signed a petition with over 500,000 signatures. I’m pretty sure half of those were just Darla using different email addresses, but who am I to stand in the way of the masses and their questionable choices?

My new boyfriend and I don’t always agree on how our origin story unfolded. He claims he swept me off my feet with his charm and wit. I maintain that I was simply worn down by his relentless pursuit and the Florida heat. Potato, po-tah-to.

“You know,” I muse, squinting at the alligator stand-in for Bubbles, “when I was a little girl in Illinois dreaming of Hollywood, this is precisely what I pictured.”

Ethan laughs. “Deny it all you want, sweetheart, but I think this was exactly your dream.” He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, Miss Pemberton, if you please, return to your mark.”

As I saunter back to the set, I overhear Ethan ask, “Taylor! Where are my Tums?”

I can’t help but grin. Karma’s a bitch. Turns out, the big director chair isn’t the cozy snack fest my leading man thought it was.

With all my experience, I could make it easier on him, but where’s the fun in that?

Out of nowhere, my nostrils are invaded by a familiar scent of sugar cookies and peppermint schnapps.

“There you are, hun! Oh, how I’ve missed you!” Darla’s voice cuts like a bedazzled machete through the noise of the set. She’s decked out in a flamingo-print sequin skirt and a bright-pink Chathan T-shirt. Subtle as always.

Pulling her into a hug, I nearly crush her lungs.

“Oof! Careful there, sugarplum,” she wheezes. “You’re squeezing tighter than the jeans I wore the night Doug knocked me up.”

I giggle. I’ve missed her patented overshares.

“Guess who brought goodies for the crew?” She holds up a ginormous tote bag, grinning like a kid who snuck into the attic and found the motherlode of hidden Christmas gifts.

She pulls out Chathan socks, shirts, car air fresheners, and scented candles. She brings a candle to my face. “Here, take a whiff! It’s like Florida came to visit!”

I edge closer, take a sniff, and gag. “Ooo-wee, smells… swampy.”

Then she pulls out a ceramic sculpture that fits in her palm. “Surprise! I got some brand-new Christmas ornaments Nolan sculpted of you two. Ain’t they adorable?”

I stare at the ornament, holding my best poker face. It’s supposed to be Ethan and me, but our features are all wonky. You know how AI mutates faces and distorts fingers? That’s this Chathan ornament. But I give mad respect to Nolan—the guy can capture the magic that is my frizzy, humidity-induced hair.

“These ornaments have been selling like hotcakes!” Darla gushes. “I featured them in the Chathan fan club newsletter so all the followers can snag ’em for Christmas in July!”

After the stage incident, the Ethan Addicts website got shut down faster than you can say “creepy stalker vibes.” Nolan stepped up and created a new Chathan fan page, which Darla runs as the club president. And let’s be honest, makes perfect sense—nobody’s a number-one fan like Darla.

Thanks to her restraining order, we never saw Gail again. But rumor has it she’s knee-deep in her new gig—posting toilet selfies for King of Thrones, a porta-potty company, where she’s now their social media coordinator. She keeps trying to get #FlushGoals trending, but online pranksters just won’t have it, flooding the comments with #kingofcaca and #nofloaters.

Darla reaches into her Mary Poppins tote bag and pulls out… the infamous SpongeBob sheets. “Oh, and I brought these like you asked,” she says, beaming.

I hold up the bed linens, staring into Squidward’s giant nose. “Why, hello old friend. We meet again.”

I tuck SpongeBob and the gang back into the bag—a surprise for Ethan later. Now that’s what I call getting freaky in the sheets. It’s our six-month anniversary, so I wanted to make tonight extra spicy. I can already picture my man’s grin when he gets into bed.

“Well, you’re early for your scene,” I tell Darla, trying to maintain a little control over my set. “We have you scheduled for hair and makeup after lunch. Then we’ll film your cameos.”

Darla pulls out a tube of lipstick so bright it could double as a road flare. “No need, hun. I brought my own,” she gushes. “It’s hard to get this flamingo color perfect.”

I spot Doug and Nolan standing next to Ethan over by the monitors. “Hey, everyone, let’s take five!” I announce.

Ethan shouts, “No, no, no. We are not taking a break! Everyone stay on set.”

I roll my eyes. “Ethan, it’s five minutes. Geez, why are you always riding me so hard?” I throw him a smirk that promises all sorts of fun later.

He concedes. “Okay, everyone. Five minutes.”

I rush over to Doug, giving him a welcoming embrace. He’s in his classic Florida dad getup—cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt with gators, and sandals with socks. Gotta hand it to him… He’s committed to his look .

“Aren’t you as lovely as ever, darlin’?” Doug says, his eyes twinkling. “I hope my boy is being good to you.”

I can’t resist. “No, your son is being downright awful. You wouldn’t believe what a bossy director he is.”

Ethan jumps in, defending himself. “Just giving my girlfriend some tough love. Chase keeps having trouble memorizing her lines.”

“Eh, that’s what improv is for,” I say. “Besides, the words are your interpretation of what happened. I know the actual story.”

Nolan laughs nervously. “I know too much of the story. All those suggestive sounds coming through the wall—the only way I could sleep was to wear noise-canceling headphones.”

Taylor, assistant and keeper of the Tums, approaches our pow-wow. She hands the bottle to Ethan then says, “Lunch arrived if you want to break early.”

“Sure,” I say, at the same time Ethan says, “No, definitely not.”

She glances between us, looking confused. “Sooooo…” she starts, but her eyes fly open. “ALLIGATOR!”

She leaps into Nolan’s arms, clinging to him as if he’s rescuing her from hot lava.

Doug, the alligator whisperer extraordinaire, grins and says, “Don’t worry, darlin’. This here’s Bubbles. He’s harmless.” He scoops up the reptile, who’s sporting an “Emotional Support Alligator” sweater.

I pet Bubbles, scratching under his chin like he’s a scaly puppy. “It’s best not to show fear,” I advise sagely. “And always keep a dead frog on hand for emergencies.”

Clearing her throat, Taylor hops down from Nolan’s arms, looking sheepish. I notice Nolan’s expression change, a flirty smile creeping across his face as she smiles back.

Oh ho, ho, ho… what do we have here?

“By the way, these are Ethan’s parents, Doug and Darla, and that’s his twin brother, Nolan,” I say, playing matchmaker. “Nolan, this is Taylor—our amazing and incredibly single assistant.”

I watch her blush, and I swear I can hear the Cherish Channel executives furiously scribbling notes for their next movie.

Ethan pops a few Tums, a subtle reminder it’s time to get things back on track. If his stomach takes any more abuse, he’ll be of no use to me tonight. And ya girl’s got plans.

“Everyone back to one!” I yell, not bothering with the bullhorn. I’ve perfected that don’t-mess-with-me tone. The crew snaps back into position. “This shot happens now, or we work through lunch. Let’s move.”

I take my mark, shouting to Ethan, “Just remember. It’s my killer writing that people love, not your artsy-fartsy camera angles.”

He yells back, “Stick to the script!”

From the corner of my eye, I see Ethan scrutinizing the monitor. I take a breath and rerun the scene in my head. Acting is much harder than I gave him credit for. Memorizing lines is one thing, but remembering where to stand, keeping hand movements consistent, and showing emotional vulnerability—all while the director nitpicks the lighting, wardrobe, and—

“Chase, can you please tuck some of your hair behind your ear?” he calls out.

I grab a chunk of my unruly mane and tuck it back, but that’s not good enough for Mr. Director.

Ethan groans and marches over to the set. “Just let me do it,” he says, exasperated.

He fluffs my hair gently, tucking a small strand behind my ear. His hand brushes down the column of my neck, and my breath hitches. Every damn time, his touch lights up invisible sparks inside me.

“Careful now,” I tease. “The crew might get the wrong idea of what’s going on between us.”

Ethan’s eyes darken. “Who taught you how to derail a scene so well?”

I lick my lips, aware of what I’m doing. “If you wanna kiss me, we could break for lunch and do the shot after.” I lean in to whisper, making sure only he can hear me, “Or better yet, take me to our trailer and I’ll let you fuck my mouth.”

His eyes go wide, and then he bellows, “That’s lunch, everyone! Be back in forty-five minutes!”

Before I can even blink, he’s thrown me over his shoulder like a caveman and is marching off set. I manage to spot Darla fanning herself with a Chathan flyer, while Doug gives a thumbs-up. Nolan and Taylor look everywhere but at us, their faces redder than Rudolph’s nose.

Ethan doesn’t stop until we’re inside our trailer. He slams the door and claims me with a kiss that makes my toes curl. “I love you so much,” he murmurs against my lips.

“No one has ever loved me the way you do. I am yours.”

He starts unbuttoning my top, placing kisses on my collarbone that send shivers down my spine. “You’re mine even in Florida? With 100-degree humid heat, mossy swamps, and mosquitos dying to make you their last meal?”

“I want to spend every Christmas in Florida with you—watching an alligator sleeping by the fire, putting up gaudy decorations that defy the laws of taste, and sharing it with a family who give such great hugs I’m still fucking glowing six months later.”

Then, because I can’t handle too much sincerity without cracking a joke, I add, “Enough sweet talk. Show me that full-blown sea monster.”

“I’m the luckiest man on the fucking planet,” he growls before kissing me with a force that steals my breath.

My heart is so full, it’s swollen. Like a decadent meal you took a few too many bites of. I think it might burst, and there’s only one reason I feel this way. LOVE. Love for Ethan, his love for me. The way his family loves each other so unconditionally. For the first time, I have a safe space—a place to treasure, to share, to breathe life into and radiate that love back.

It’s the very essence of Christmas, and I’m completely hooked.

Florida, with all its quirks and contradictions, saved me in ways I never could have imagined. Ethan injected joy and wonder back into my life, melting the ice around my heart with his relentless warmth.

I’m so goddamn happy, I can’t even. I’m stunned and forever grateful. Florida, you beautiful weirdo, look at what you did!

I’ve learned that when your heart is hardened, nothing can get in. It’s like a force field against more pain. But when that shit starts to thaw, when you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t as awful as you think it is… BOOM! Miracles happen.

Suddenly, there are people who not only don’t let you down, but also lift you up.

I run my fingers through Ethan’s hair, marveling at how this one man managed to rewrite my entire story. And I’m so glad I’ve learned to add spontaneity to the script. Because life truly begins when you’re open to it.

He is mine, to squeeze and never let go. He saw something special in me when I was a complete disaster. Through the chaos, Ethan held my hand and whispered words of support when I needed them most. He is my rock.

He’s my partner and my equal—and we can conquer anything.

So Merry Christmas out there, whoever you are. Believe me… No matter how you’ve been hurt, mistrusted, or pushed down, it gets better. Someone will come along who cares for you deeply, and they’ll make you believe again.

Don’t give up. Don’t let cynicism and apathy win. Believe in humanity. Love is all around us… if we just let it in.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go fuck my boyfriend.

***