That Mistletoe Moment (3 page)

“Honestly?” he asked.

“No, I want you to lie to me.” Noelle rolled her eyes. She regretted her sarcastic comment the moment it was out of her mouth and he drew back at her words. She softened her tone. “Of course, honestly. I want the truth.”

“Fine, but there's no need to be a bitch about it.”

Had he seriously just called her that? This conversation had disintegrated—fast. She drew in a breath that had her nostrils flaring as she considered.

Noelle had two choices to make here. She could start a fight over his “bitch” comment, or she could focus on the bigger issue. Their relationship and its future.

She chose the latter. “George, do you see us ever getting married or not?”

“Not really.” He shook his head.

Her eyes widened. “Why not?”

“We're very different.” He shrugged.

That was true. They were different. She'd always thought that's what they both liked about the relationship. “Then why are you with me—why have you stayed with me—for five years?”

“Habit, I guess.” He shrugged again. The move made her want to hit him with one of her prized antique bookends. The fact he'd called them “expensive dust collectors” didn't help squelch that urge any.

Habit? What the hell kind of a reason was that to stay with someone? “So, what are you saying? That I was convenient? That it was too much work to find a new girlfriend?”

“I don't know. Look, can we just go to bed and sleep on it?” He stood and extended one hand to her where she sat on the sofa glaring up at him.

“Go to bed here? You're staying the night now? I thought you didn't want to.”

“I think in light of everything, it might be best if I slept here. We'll kiss and make up. You'll wake up in a better mood, and we'll start fresh in the morning getting that tree of yours.”

The way he said the words “kiss and make up” were ripe with suggestion, as was his smile. He thought he could drop the bomb that he'd never seen them spending their lives together and then she'd jump into bed with him?

“Oh no. You really think I'll just forget—”

“Noelle, just relax.” He tipped his head. “Hey, I just thought of something. Is it coming up on your time of the month? Is that why you're acting so crazy?”

“Oh my God. This is not about me or my
time of the month
. This is all about you.”

“I think you need some time to calm down.” He'd kept his voice low. His treating her like a child made it all worse.

She lifted her brows high. Time? He thought that was going to calm her down? Make her forget what an ass he was?

“No. No, no, no. You've gotten all the time from me you're going to get. We're done.”

His sandy brows rose. “Excuse me?”

“Yup. I'm sorry to inconvenience you, especially right before your office Christmas party, which I know you already RSVP'd to for two people, but we're finished. I'm done being a stand-in girlfriend until a woman you can picture yourself marrying comes along.”

“So you're saying that if I don't promise you right now, tonight, that we're going to get married, we're done?”

“Yes.” The finality of that answer had her stomach twisting.

Was that what she was saying? When he phrased it that way, it sounded illogical and irrational.

“If that's how you really feel.” He waited, watching her.

“It is.” She sounded more confident than she felt.

“Okay.” He nodded and stood.

Noelle watched in a daze as he let himself out, without even a backward glance.

She expected him to come back. To knock on the door and tell her he hadn't realized how much she meant to him until he'd lost her.

But the minutes ticked by and no knock came. That's when the doubt and second thoughts and regret began to hit hard.

She'd gone from thinking they'd be engaged before another day passed to realizing she was alone.

George was gone. Really gone. No longer her boyfriend, and it was all her own fault because she'd given him an ultimatum.

In one moment her whole life—or at least the life she'd lived for the past five years—was completely altered, and she'd done it to herself.

Aunt Anna. Her sister. Her parents. They'd all sat there and listened as she'd told them how great everything was and how she expected a proposal any day . . . and now this.

What had she done?

CHAPTER 3

“N
oelle, you can
not
hide away from everyone in your apartment forever.” Nikki's censure came through the cell phone as clearly as if she were in the room.

“Nope. You're wrong. I definitely can.” Hiding had worked pretty well so far. In fact, except for restaurant deliverymen, she hadn't seen another human being in close to two weeks.

“You're eventually going to have to go to work,” Nikki pointed out.

“I'll worry about that when the time comes.” Luckily for Noelle, she had four weeks of paid vacation time stored up that she had to use before the end of the year or lose it.

Months ago she'd put in to take off the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year's so she could enjoy the holidays—the shopping, decorating, wrapping, watching holiday movies. All the stuff she usually loved.

Little did she know then that she'd need the time to hibernate in her pajamas and lick her wounds because of her breakup with George.

Thank goodness even the food store and the liquor store had a delivery service. She was going to need much more ice cream and booze to get through this.

“I'm coming over.” Nikki's declaration had Noelle scrambling for a reason why her sister couldn't come over.

“Um, I'm not home.” To avoid Nikki's visit, and the inevitable lecture that would come with it, Noelle crafted what she thought was a pretty good lie.

“Liar.”

“I'm not lying. I, uh, had to run out for more . . . sugar.”

“More sugar for what?”

“To bake Christmas cookies.” Noelle drew in a breath, wishing it was true, because she could really go for some snickerdoodles right now. Or the peanut butter ones with the chocolate kiss in the middle.

“That's interesting, because I just walked past your car parked in front of your apartment.”

Crap.
Her sneaky sister was already here.

“I, uh, walked to the store. And I have lots more errands to do . . . on foot, so don't wait around. You might as well go home.”

“See, that's interesting too, since I'm right outside your door and I can hear you talking inside.”

“Fine.” With a huff of annoyance, Noelle disconnected the call and hoisted herself off the sofa. She tossed the phone onto the kitchen island and stomped to the door—as much as she could stomp in socks. She yanked it open and scowled. “When did you become so devious?”

“About the same time you became a hermit.” Looking her up and down, Nikki wrinkled her nose. “Jeez. When was the last time you showered?” She pushed past Noelle and the stack of pizza boxes by the door and glanced around the apartment. “Or picked up around here? And where's your tree? You always have it up by now.”

“Tree?” Noelle's jaw dropped. “Are you nuts? My life is falling apart around me, and you're worried about a Christmas tree?”

“Someone is nuts in this room, but it's not me.” Nikki glared at her from beneath raised brows. “Now, close the door.”

Noelle realized she was standing in the open doorway. She swung the door shut so her neighbors wouldn't walk by and see her grungy pajamas and unwashed hair.

“Come sit down. We're getting you over this funk and taking your life back.”

“Oh, sure. Just like that.” Noelle snapped her fingers.

“Yup. Just like that. I have a plan.” Nikki remained standing as her glance took in Noelle from the top of her messy head to the toes of her dingy socks. “On second thought, go shower and change first. I'm sure you can't think clearly while you look like that. I know I certainly can't think just looking at you.”

“You're quite the dictator today, aren't you?” Noelle folded her arms.

“You've given me no choice. You've avoided my calls and ignored my texts for weeks. All because you broke up with George?”

“We dated for almost five years. Of course breaking up after all that time is traumatic.”

Nikki let out a rude noise. “
Pfft
. He was never right for you anyway, and you knew it. You just wouldn't admit it. It's a blessing you finally came to your senses. It was long overdue.”

“I'm sorry I even told you what happened,” Noelle mumbled.

“Well, you did, so too late.” Nikki came forward and, grabbing her sister's shoulders, spun her around. “Now, go. Shower. Change. And don't forget to wash your hair. You look scary and you smell.”

“Oh, lovely. Thanks. With a sister like you, who needs enemies?” Noelle grumbled all the way to the bathroom.

“Complain all you want. I'm not leaving until you look, smell, and act normal again. I'm making tea.”

“Fine. Do whatever you want. You will anyway.” Noelle slammed the bathroom door hard to reinforce her opinion regarding everything her sister had said.

It didn't matter what Nikki did in the kitchen, because Noelle was going to take as long as possible in the bathroom. She'd stay in there until her skin shriveled. Until the hot water ran out. And then, she'd take even more time getting dressed.

That would teach her nosy sister.

Noelle stoked her rage for most of her shower. Through the shampoo, rinse, and repeat. Even through the application of her instant conditioner.

It was about the time she gave her hair and body one final rinse that she realized—in her distraction—she'd forgotten to shave her legs, and that made her realize that it didn't matter.

There was no more George in her life to comment if she had stubbly legs. No one to care if she became a hairy beast. No one to care about her . . .

That realization had the hot tears filling Noelle's eyes as she swiped the razor blindly over her legs. The blade nicked her skin, sending a streak of bright red sluicing down her shin, over her foot, and across the white of the tub toward the drain. The sight fed her self-pity and had her tears falling faster.

Noelle braced her hands on the shower wall and drew in a deep breath.

“Get yourself together.” She spoke the words aloud, hoping to will herself into following her own advice.

Drawing in and letting out another breath, she felt a little calmer, even though the blood was still flowing.

Maybe it was watching the life's blood literally seep out of her that knocked Noelle into action. Grabbing the washcloth from the towel rack in the shower stall, she pressed it against her knee.

Sometimes even the smallest cuts bled a lot. The truth of that thought struck Noelle. Like this tiny razor scrape in her skin that bled a disproportionate amount in relation to its size, perhaps cutting George loose hadn't been as huge an amputation from her life as it seemed.

Or maybe she was just as crazy as she felt.

With a sigh, Noelle flipped off the water. Her cut would never clot under the pounding spray of the shower, and she'd had enough of being wet.

Time to get out, dry off, dress, and deal with her uninvited guest.

Only after she'd bandaged her knee and then pulled on fluffy socks and a clean sweat suit did Noelle brave the kitchen and her sister.

At least Nikki had made tea as she'd promised. The steaming mug on the counter drew Noelle forward. So did the plate of cookies next to it.

“Mom's peanut butter cookies?”

“Yes. Do you forgive me for bothering you now?” Nikki asked.

“Maybe.” The gift of cookies certainly didn't hurt.

As the first sip of hot tea warmed Noelle from the inside, a mouthful of chocolate and peanut butter did much to melt her icy feelings toward her sister.

Nikki sat perched on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, focusing on her cell phone. “So, I downloaded this app. . . .”

“Mmm-hmm.” Noelle sat too, reached for a second cookie, and took a good-sized bite out of it.

“I signed you up.”

Her sister was always doing stuff like that. Signing her up for mailing lists and websites without her permission. Noelle pulled her mouth to one side. “Great. Now I'll get a bunch of e-mails because they have my address. What's it for, some store?”

“Uh, no, not a store.” Nikki put her own cell down just as Noelle's phone vibrated with a text alert. Nikki eyed the phone on the countertop, where Noelle had tossed it. “You gonna check that?”

Suspicious, Noelle put down her mug and picked up the phone. There was a new text from a number she didn't recognize, but it was from her local area code. She frowned at the screen as she hit the button to read it.

“What is this? What did you do?” Noelle glared at her sister.

Nikki's face lit up with a grin. “I got you a boyfriend.”

“A what?” Noelle's voice rose high.

“Not a real one. Relax. It's the Build-A-Boyfriend app.” Nikki held up her phone as if that would explain it all. “Remember, I told you about it at Thanksgiving?”

Noelle grabbed her sister's phone and glanced at the screen. “But I don't understand. Who is this text from?”

“Actually, I'm not really sure. That's kind of proprietary information. I read an article about the app in the
Wall Street Journal
before I signed you up, and the owners of the company were pretty secretive about how they actually generate the texts.”

“Oh, well, that's comforting.” Noelle rolled her eyes.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Nikki continued. “The exact process and technology is kept under wraps, but there's speculation it might be a combination of computer technology and real-life human interaction.”

“So basically the nicest compliment I've gotten in recent memory is from either a computer or someone being paid to text me.” Noelle twisted her mouth unhappily.

“Yes. But that's the beauty of it. You get to pretend you have the perfect boyfriend for the family at Christmas without dealing with any of the problems of a real man.”

“None of the problems but also none of the fun,” Noelle reminded her overly jubilant sister.

Nikki dismissed that complaint with one flick of a wrist. “Oh, seriously. When was the last time you had fun with George? I mean real fun, where he didn't criticize you or act like a stick in the mud?”

It was a knee-jerk reaction to defend George to Nikki, but just the mention of his name raised a horrible realization that had Noelle gasping. “George's parents will be at the Christmas party.”

Nikki nodded. “I'm sure they will. And I think you'd better prepare yourself that George could very well come, too.”

Noelle widened her eyes. “You think he would?”

How could she face him? And what if he came with a date? He wouldn't have the nerve—would he? She had the bad feeling he might.

“Yes, I do. And I think you need to be ready. Which is why we're setting you up with a new boyfriend.”

“I don't think a couple of possibly computer-generated texts are going to convince anyone I have a boyfriend.”

“The app does more than just text. You can get e-mails. Even a real handwritten letter. And you can set up for flower and gift deliveries, too, but that's an extra charge.”

All of that sounded expensive. “How much is this thing going to cost me?”

“Nothing. There's a free trial. For the basic membership during the trial period you get a limited number of texts, and we can design a complete boyfriend. We name him. Give him an occupation. We can even download photos from their database.” When Noelle continued to look skeptical, Nikki continued. “I'm telling you, this will work. We post a couple of status updates and pictures online, and you'll have what looks like a completely convincing relationship.”

“No. I'm not posting pictures of a made-up boyfriend. That's too much. Then what happens when I meet a real guy and there are these pictures of my fake boyfriend all over the web?”

“Fine. No guy pics right away, but we're going to revisit that idea before the party. Okay?”

Noelle sighed, too beaten down to fight her sister. “Okay.”

“Even without pictures of a guy, we can fabricate a complete relationship online starting right away.”

“How in the world are you going to do that?”

“Easy. A close-up shot of two glasses of champagne with a status update that reads something like,
Enjoying some bubbly at Sunday brunch with my new man
. A pic of a Christmas tree lot with the post,
Good thing my boyfriend is strong since I chose the biggest tree here
. A few posts like that and George and the relatives will think you have the most active social life of anyone we know.”

Shocked, and admittedly a bit impressed, Noelle stared at her sister. “You do realize that if you put this much creativity and effort into your dissertation and building a career, you'd be making enough money to move out of Mom and Dad's place, right?”

“Ugh. Work and school are no fun.
This
is fun. I can't wait to create all sorts of dates for you and—wait—what are we calling him?” Nikki picked up her phone again. “There's a place for all that info in the dashboard of the app. So, what do you want to call your new fake boyfriend?”

“First of all, can we stop referring to him as my ‘fake boyfriend'?” Noelle sighed with self-pity. “Other than that, I don't know what to call him.”

“Just choose a guy's name. Make it something strong and sexy.” Nikki waited, phone in hand, as Noelle glanced around the room, looking for inspiration and not finding much that would work for a good name.