He’s not wearing a ring.

It was the first thing I noticed when I walked into Stonewall. The second thing I noticed? How I still had the same urge to lay him down on that desk of his and kiss him from head to toe, except now it was stronger than the first time I saw him. I was sitting down on the couch, opening up about my inner lover and romcom fan for who knew what reason, except that I just wanted to talk to Andrew. About anything. I wanted to be in this guy’s orbit, breathing his air, sharing his space.

Snap the hell out of it.

This was crazy. I needed to control my wild hormones because that was all this was. My fiery reaction toward Andrew needed to be doused down with a fire extinguisher the size of the goddamn Empire State Building. The lack of a ring did not mean I could start writing our own fucking romantic-comedy flick in my head, extremely steamy scenes included.

Well… I mean, I guess I could investigate. This is an investigation agency after all.

I checked my watch, the screen lighting up and the time being displayed in big blue block numbers. There were around fifteen minutes left until Mark’s lunch hour was up, so I still had some time to dig a little. He made me want to prod him, in more ways than one. I wanted to figure out what the hell made Andrew tick, but first and foremost, I needed to find out if there was anyone who made Andrew tick.

“So,” I said, “do you have anyone special to open gifts up wi—”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” Well, that was easy. “Okay.”

“No, no one. And that’s fine. I’m totally fine hanging out in my underwear, watching dumb Christmas movies, and stuffing myself with chow mein.”

“That sounds…”

“Sad and pathetic? Yeah, but that’s fine.”

“I was going to say it sounds perfect.” He looked up from his hands and found my gaze from across the room. My breath hitched, but I didn’t break eye contact. Andrew did, looking back down at his hands held tight together on his desk.

“Says the one spending a week at their own personal holiday theme park.”

“The snow is always whiter,” I said, trying to be cutesy and hopefully get a smile from Andrew.

“You mean yellower?” he asked in a deadpan tone, arching a brow but not looking back up at me.

We both laughed, and I got the urge to stand up. I feigned a stretch. My muscles were fine; I just needed an excuse to drift over to him. There were a few shelves up on the wall across from me, closest to where Andrew sat. They held framed photos of the detectives, along with a few awards for all their work. I walked over, as if I was suddenly caught up in checking the shelves out, but my mind was somewhere else. There was the seed of an idea planted at the base of my brain. It was a wild one, and it was getting stronger and stronger.

“You guys seem like a tight-knit family here,” I said.

“Yeah, we are. In fact, I’ll probably end up crashing one of their Christmas dinners.”

There was a photo of Mark, the detective I’d hired, with his arm around the shoulder of another man, beaming with short, light hair and expressive eyes. Andrew was in the shot, too, standing behind them on tiptoes with the classic bunny ears thrown up behind Mark’s head. They were standing out in a field by a barbeque pit. It was clear there was a close bond between everyone in that photo.

“That was at Zane’s birthday party,” Andrew said, craning his head so he could see the photo that had captured my attention. “He was totally surprised when he saw us all together at the park. Mark was in charge of barbequing lunch, which almost ended up in a brush fire taking over. Thankfully, Collin, the one beaming in that photo, he was nearby and quick-thinking and was able to put it out before Zane’s birthday went up in flames. Literally.” Andrew chuckled, but there was something that caught in his throat. I looked his way and saw him wipe at his cheek before dropping his gaze.

Damn it, I just want you to look at me.

Before I could even think twice, the words fell out of my mouth: “Come spend Christmas with me.”

“Huh?”

Whoa. Okay, that surprised even me. But I wasn’t going to backtrack. I hated backtracking. If I made a choice, then I was going to stick by that choice. “Come to the family retreat. Get out of the city and leave behind whatever bullshit it is you’re stressing about.”

“I’m not stressing about anything.”

“That’s bullshit right there.” I grabbed the single chair that was sitting underneath the nearby window and pulled it to the front of Andrew’s desk. “Something’s got you down, and I think getting out of here and doing something crazy can help fix things.”

Andrew narrowed his gaze. Skepticism was drawn clear across his eyes, but hey, at least he was looking at me now. “You don’t even know me.”

“That’s fine. I’ll get to know you.”

“No,” Andrew said, shaking his head, with a glimmer of a smile. “That’s batshit crazy.”

“It’s like one of those Lifetime movies we both love.”

“Or like one of those horror movies I hate and don’t know if you love or not.”

“I do like scary movies,” I said.

“See? So there—this thing isn’t going to work, but thanks for asking.”

Except I didn’t agree with him. I thought this “thing” could very much work, and I thought it could work well. “Okay, fine, there won’t be any Krampus movie screenings while we’re at the retreat.”

“You’re so considerate,” he quipped, sarcasm wielded like a blade by a master swordsman. “But still, no. Besides, what would I even be doing at your family’s Christmas vacay? I’m just some random guy; I’ll be confused for the catering company.”

I let my head drop, looking at him with the “are you fucking serious” face. “Ridiculous. You’ll be introduced as my boyfriend, and there’ll be absolutely zero confusion.”

For a second, I thought I had done it. I thought I pushed just the right combination of buttons to get an “okay, fine, this is crazy, but let’s do it,” and that made my heart do a sequence of somersaults next to my rib cage.

Then Andrew’s brow arched as if he were about to start selling Big Macs. “So you want me to go in as your boyfriend? We haven’t even been on a single date together—how can I shake hands with your dad, look him in the eyes, and honestly say I’m your boyfriend?”

I wasn’t about to tell him my dad wasn’t around to shake hands with, but he did have a point about the lack of dates between us. “What? It’ll be fun. It’s a massive property, so I’m sure we can sleep in separate rooms if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, I’m worried about acting out an entirely fraudulent relationship for an entire week for… what? What would possess me to even say yes?”

Okay, so maybe this idea was a little too crazy. But still, I didn’t like backtracking or backing down. I thought back to three weeks ago at the bar, when Old Fake Nick was pushing me to do something wild. Maybe this was it. “Because it’s fun. Jesus, I feel like I’m pitching a timeshare, but seriously, you can say yes because it’ll be an adventure. Something different. You don’t have to cancel any other plans to come, and if you really wanted chow mein on Christmas that bad, I can order you takeout.”

He crossed his arms, still resistant. “Where is it again?”

But maybe there was a chance. “It’s in Connecticut. Only an hour’s drive away. If you really hate the situation, then you could just come back home.”

There was a moment of silence where I could practically see the wheels in Andrew’s head turning. I knew I wasn’t exactly doing the best job of selling this, but Andrew was one tough nut to crack, which was kind of unusual for me. I hated tooting my own horn, but I was also aware of my looks and the way his eyes seemed to track me in a room. That, mixed with the charm I had carefully crafted and honed as I grew older made it so I could ask for things and normally get them. Even if one of the things was a fake boyfriend for a week.

But not with Andrew. I could clearly tell there was something sparking strong and bright between us, but for whatever reason, Andrew was resisting it.

“No, sorry, I really can’t,” he said, turning back to his computer. It was like an electric fence had shot up between us. And all I wanted to do was get past it, however I had to.

“Okay, what if we take out the word ‘fake’ from the equation? Let’s go out to a few dinners, have a few dates, cement things before—”

“Mr. Rose, I just can’t right now.”

That’s when it really hit me.

Fuuuuck, I’m such a fucking idiot.

It hit me just how big of a moron I was being. A colossal fucking douchebag. The lack of a ring wasn’t a sign he was available. The lack of a ring meant he was going through something excruciating, a breakup and potentially a divorce. And here I was, making a pass at him, even if it was under the terms of a “fake boyfriend.”

Except the things I imagined myself doing to him certainly weren’t fake, and that made me feel even guiltier.

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, my gaze falling down to the floor.

“It’s fine,” he said, the keyboard clacking and clicking as his fingers danced across the keys, another sign that told me to keep moving. It was done.

Then, as if I needed one last sign to prove my chances were over, Mark walked in through the front door, his nose a cherry red from the cold that followed him in. “Wow, it’s freezing,” he said. “Hey, Declan! Glad you’re here; we’ve got some stuff to talk about. Let me just go set up in my office real quick.” He shook my hand with his gloved one and walked down the hall. I stood up from my seat and brought the chair back to where it was before. Andrew was hitting the keyboard as if the damn things owed him money.

“My number’s in the system,” I said, feeling like a drowning man reaching up toward a miles-away source of light. “Shoot me a text if you change your mind.”

It was all I could do. He didn’t respond, and so I walked past his desk, through the hall that was lined with garland and twinkling, multicolored lights. There was a dusting of white powder on the dark green garland, adding the effect of a recent snowfall inside of Stonewall Investigations.

My detective, Mark Masters, had an office toward the end of the hall. The door open was, but I still knocked.

“Come in, come in.”

Inside, Mark was sitting behind his desk, a stack of papers in front of him, a look of concern furrowing his brow, his coat hanging on the coat hanger by the door.

“Hey there,” he said, walking over and extending a hand.

“Mark, how’s it going.”

“Good. I found some things you might want to see,” he said, turning back to his desk and taking his seat. Mark’s office was also decorated for the season, with silver and blue ornaments hanging from the ceiling, matching the pile of gifts wrapped in silver and blue metallic wrapping paper sitting in a corner underneath an artificial tree.

“Should I mentally prepare first?” I asked, sitting across from him, my pulse starting to pick up. Honestly, I wasn’t really expecting Mark to find anything. I had suspicions that my stepfather was up to weird shit, but I didn’t actually believe he’d be doing anything. This investigation was just a way for me to put my dumb paranoias to rest.

But if what Mark was about to show me had anything to do with my stepfather hurting my mother… ohh, boy, was he going to have a category-five shitstorm barreling his way.

“Here, I think you should see these photos first.”

He handed over a manila envelope. I opened it and pulled out the first photo. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. When I did make sense of it, my gut pulled in as if I’d just gotten punched.

“Holy shit,” I said, realizing I definitely should have mentally prepared for this first.