The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

33. Brenna

33

brENNA

W hen we pull up in front of my parents’ house just before lunchtime on Christmas Eve, a cocktail of emotions courses through me. I’m happy to be home and excited to celebrate my favorite holiday, but I’m also anxious about the fact that I still haven’t gotten any responses to my applications and that Zach and I have to continue pretending for the next two days.

I’m aggravated with him. Not because he’s done anything wrong—in fact, he’s been perfect. Which is a problem because I have to work ten times as hard to resist feeling more than just friendly toward him when he’s always so sweet and thoughtful and fun. And gorgeous. Have I mentioned he’s gorgeous?

I’m beginning to think that our planned fake breakup later this week might feel like a real one. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pretending I’m not attracted to him, keep acting like we’re just friends. And the worst part is I can’t tell if he feels anything for me or not. He was very specific about labeling us friends, but sometimes I catch him looking at me in a way that doesn’t exactly scream platonic. There’s a certain heat in his gaze in those moments that feels significant. But what if that’s just wishful thinking on my part?

I climb out of the car and stretch, loosening my cramped muscles after three hours on the road. My parents’ house looks charming as always during the holidays, with a red ribbon bow on the mailbox and tasteful evergreen wreaths adorning each window and door. When it gets dark, passersby will be able to see flickering light from electric candles in each of the street-facing windows. I smile to myself as I remember the year Mom decided to try real candles because she found a huge box on sale. When it was time to go to bed, we all ran around blowing them out, and to our surprise, they all smoked like little chimneys. After we got the smoke alarms turned off and ushered the resulting grey cloud out opened windows, my dad turned to my mom and said, “I guess we learned a lesson. Never buy discount candles.”

I reach into the backseat and pull out a large gift bag filled with smaller wrapped presents. They looked so cute under my petite white tree that I almost hated to pack them up this morning. Zach retrieves our duffle bags from the trunk.

“That’s everything. Let’s go get some of that famous gingerbread.”

“You jest,” I respond as we start up the walkway. “But I’m willing to bet she’s got at least three different kinds of cookies ready and waiting, including the gingerbread.”

“I hope you’re right.” Zach looks like he’s about to start drooling at the very thought.

“Mom?” I call as we enter the foyer. “We’re here.”

“In the kitchen,” she calls back.

Zach holds up the duffles. “I’ll just take these upstairs real quick. Same rooms as before?”

“Yep. I’ll see you in the kitchen, and I may or may not save you any cookies so you’d better shake a leg.”

“Isn’t that what you say before someone goes on stage?” he asks as he walks backward toward the stairs.

“That’s ‘break a leg.’” I roll my eyes. “You’d better turn around and walk straight or that’s exactly what you’ll be doing.”

He spins around with a grin and jogs up the stairs.

Mom is elbow-deep in flour as she rolls out shortbread and cuts it into festive shapes. “Hey, sweetie. I’ll hug you later so I don’t get flour on your outfit. You look very cute today.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I glance down at my black jeans, white V-neck tee, and long red cardigan. It’s comfy and, more importantly, also festive, a requirement at the Hartford home this time of year. I gesture to her forest green blouse and dark jeans paired with a red statement necklace. “I like your outfit too. The headband is a nice touch.”

“Kenzie picked that part,” she says with a smile, wiggling her reindeer antlers at me. “She gave your daddy a Santa hat.”

“Where is Kenzie? And everyone else?” The house is surprisingly quiet.

“Heather and Ben took the girls to play at the park with Sara and Isaac and the twins. Dad ran to the store to get more milk and butter. They’ll all be back for lunch in an hour or so. Where’s Zach?” Her eyes dart to the door as if expecting him to be right behind me.

“He took our bags upstairs. He’ll be down in a minute. I’m going to go put these presents under the tree, then I’ll come back and help you, okay?”

“Sounds good, hon.”

I turn and walk across the foyer to the living room, startling in surprise when I see Zach bent at the base of the tree. He stands up and turns, smiling when he sees me.

“I thought you went upstairs,” I say.

He smirks. “I did, and then I came back down again.”

I lean to look around him at the tree. “What were you doing?”

“Putting a gift under the tree, like you’re about to do. Want some help?”

“Sure, but I thought I told you that you didn’t have to bring gifts.”

“And I thought I told you that I was going to bring one for you anyway.” He reaches out and snags my bag of presents. Kneeling on the edge of the tree skirt, he starts to tuck them in between existing packages. I drop to my knees beside him to help, deciding to roll with it and not be mad that he disregarded me. How can I be when I got him something too?

“I’m going to help Mom with her cookies after this. You can help too, if you want, or you can just keep us company.”

“Will I get a cookie if I help?”

I smile. “You’ll get a cookie either way. You know Mom loves to feed people.”

Mom greets Zach warmly when we both enter the kitchen. “So good to see you again. I hear you’ve been cheering Brenna up while she’s searching for a new job.”

Zach cuts an amused glance at me, and my face warms. “I told her about some of the hobbies we’ve been trying out and how much fun we’ve been having.”

“Ah, yes, the hobbies.” He turns back to Mom. “Turns out Brenna’s not much of a rock climber, but she’s great at puzzles. And cooking, which I assume she gets from you.” He gives her one of his signature winks, and I’m a little jealous.

“It’s true,” she says, returning his wink. “I taught her everything she knows.”

Zach laughs, and I steer the conversation away from what he and I have been doing. No sense in inviting scrutiny that could unmask our deception. “What can we do to help with lunch?”

“And can I have a cookie?” Zach adds, looking longingly at the cooling rack of warm shortbread Christmas trees.

“Of course, you can. Help yourself.” Mom looks pleased like I knew she would be. “And Brenna, you can cut up the fruit for some fruit salad. We’ll have that with chips, pickles, and sandwiches.”

I comply, prepping the strawberries, kiwi, and apples she had set aside for a red, green, and white dish befitting the holiday. My stomach rumbles as the sweet fragrance of the strawberries hits me, and I sneak an especially red, ripe one. They’re surprisingly good for this time of year.

I’m just finishing up when the front door opens and a cacophony of sounds filters in from the foyer announcing the return of the rest of my family. They must have seen my car in the driveway because Kenzie runs in at full speed shouting, “Aunt Bee! You’re here!”

She wraps her arms around my waist, and I hug her back tightly. “Hey girl, how’s my favorite fourth grader?”

“Excited for Christmas!”

“Me too.” I pull back. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved. We were playing on the playground, and the twins wanted me to go down the slide with them like a million times, so I’m totally out of energy.” She lets her shoulders sag dramatically.

I raise an eyebrow. “I can see that.”

Heather approaches and taps Kenzie on the shoulder. “Go wash your hands, Kenz, so we can eat.” The little girl dashes off to obey, apparently having mustered some reserve energy, and Heather takes her turn to give me a hug. I can see over her shoulder that Isaac, Ben, and Dad are greeting Zach equivalently with handshakes and fist bumps.

Heather pulls back a little and shifts to the side so that she has one arm wrapped around my waist, our heads close together, her eyes finding the men as well. “So, how’s it going with you two? Are love birds still cooing? Are wedding bells ringing?”

“Stop it,” I protest, poking her in the side. “No making fun of me, my boyfriend, or our relationship.”

“I’m not making fun,” she says, looking at me with sincerity. “I really want to know how things are going. This is the longest you’ve ever dated someone, and you went on a trip with the guy. Seems like he must be something special.”

“He is.” The words slip out of me before I realize what I’m saying. I almost slap a hand over my mouth, but then I realize that is actually a totally reasonable and appropriate thing to say about one’s boyfriend. You know, if he isn’t fake.

I feel a twinge of guilt about lying to Heather. I didn’t feel that bad about it at Thanksgiving because the whole Vincent thing drove me to it, but now? Now I’m perpetuating an untruth just because it’s the easy way out.

I shift uncomfortably. Maybe I should tell her what’s really going on. She’s my sister. She’ll understand, right? I open my mouth to tell her I have a confession to make, but I’m stopped by my mom announcing loudly that lunch is served. Heather gives me one more squeeze. “I’m glad you’re doing good, Sis. It’s good to see you with someone who makes you look so happy.”

I watch her walk to the other side of the kitchen, turning her comment over in my mind. I look happy? Does that mean I didn’t look happy before I started “dating” Zach? I can’t deny that I enjoy spending time with him. All these activities have felt almost like dating, just without the hand-holding and goodnight kisses. No wonder my heart is confused.

I shake my head to clear away those thoughts and focus on the reason we’re here—celebrating Christmas with my family.

Zach comes to stand beside me and hands me an empty plate. “You okay over here? You look like you’re thinking big thoughts.”

I look up at him and search his face openly. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but what I see is gentle curiosity and concern in his expression. My eyes travel slowly down his body, past strong shoulders to a broad chest. How would it feel to be able to hug him just because I wanted to? To not have to walk this weird line between what is and isn’t appropriate as a fake couple in front of other people?

I force a smile. “I’m fine,” I lie, because I guess that’s what I’m good at. Lying to my family, to Zach, even to myself. “Let’s go get in line.”

He follows me to the island where we assemble sandwiches before finding a place to sit. Zach takes an empty seat beside Isaac who strikes up a conversation with lots of questions, clearly trying to get to know my boyfriend. I mostly tune them out, instead contemplating the predicament I’ve gotten myself into that is weighing heavily on me today. I do smile when I hear Isaac ask him what he does for fun and Zach cuts me a look with a secret smile before answering that he likes puzzles and traveling.

We all linger over lunch, enjoying the unrushed, unscheduled time together, until the kids ask if they can watch a movie and Dad suggests a Christmas double feature, starting with The Grinch followed by Home Alone .

“Wait, which Grinch is it?” Heather asks. “I hope it’s the 2018 version because that’s definitely the best one.”

“Agreed,” I say as I put my plate in the dishwasher.

Dad frowns. “I don’t know. Which one is it, Elaine?”

“The animated one with that handsome British man voicing the Grinch.”

Heather and I exchange grins and thumbs-up. It’s the right one.

It takes a few minutes for the whole family to pile into the living room, especially when Kenzie and Bella insist that Nan make her homemade popcorn before we start. Since they rarely agree on anything, my mom is quick to make their wish come true, making a huge batch and passing out bowls for people to share.

I end up in the middle of the couch, with Bella and Kenzie on one side and Zach on the other. It’s a little tight, but at least we got a piece of furniture. Isaac and Ben ended up on the floor with the twins. Heather, who’s always cold like me, walks through passing out blankets while my dad fiddles with the remote. She opens one and spreads it over the girls, then turns to do the same thing to me and Zach.

As the movie starts, everyone grows quiet except for the crunch of popcorn and the occasional giggle. I’m suddenly very aware of the warmth radiating from Zach’s body where our shoulders and thighs are pressed together. I’m balancing our popcorn bowl with my right hand and eating with my left, while Zach’s left arm is caught awkwardly between us. After a moment, he shifts, stretching his arm up over our heads and bringing it down around my shoulders. I can hardly breathe as his fingers brush lightly against my upper arm, stroking so gently I can barely feel it through my cardigan. Which is feeling extremely hot now, by the way. Between the sweater, the blanket, and Zach, I’m basically lava.

I force myself to keep my eyes on the movie, but I’m not paying attention to the familiar story. Instead, my brain is stuck on the fact that I can smell Zach’s deodorant or body wash or something, and it smells amazing. Like sandalwood, herbs, and citrus. I resist the urge to lean over and inhale deeply.

“Are you okay?” Zach whispers, his breath tickling my ear and making me shiver. “You seem tense.”

I swallow and shake my head. “I’m fine.” I command my muscles to loosen, sinking into him slightly. His body is the perfect juxtaposition of firm and soft, and I relax by degrees as the movie progresses until we’re cuddled up like a regular couple by the end.

I get up with half of my family to put our popcorn bowls away and take a bathroom break before we start the second movie. When I return, Zach opens his arm up, inviting me with his body language and his eyes to slide back into my same spot. I only hesitate for a second before doing just that. I’m surprised at the wave of contentment that washes over me as I tuck the blanket around my legs again. I feel like I belong here next to Zach, soaking in his heat and feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing.

I’m so comfortable here that by the time Kevin’s family arrives home from Paris, my head is resting on Zach’s shoulder and I’m hovering in that strange state between sleep and wakefulness. I don’t remember the last time I was this relaxed. When the credits roll, Zach shifts, and I almost groan at him to be still. “Sorry, Bren, but I really need to use the bathroom.”

I sit up sleepily and rub my eyes, almost missing the fond smile he bestows on me as he reaches up to smooth down a lock of my hair that has gotten out of control during the course of our snuggle. The feel of his fingertips brushing my jaw as he pulls back wakes me right up, as does the heated look in his eyes before he clears his throat and glances away.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and he slips out of the room, leaving me missing his warmth and company.