All Chapters of The Holidate Pact: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The steakhouse had valet parking and a chandelier in the entrance. Charlotte's choice, obviously. I tugged at my black sheath dress, suddenly aware of every loose thread. It was the nicest thing I owned, but standing in this marble lobby, it felt like something I'd grabbed off a clearance rack. Which I had. "You look beautiful," Jackson murmured. "You're required to say that." "Doesn't make it less true." The hostess led us to a table by the window. White tablecloth. Candles. Wine glasses that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget. Charlotte was already there. She stood as we approached, and I felt my stomach drop. She was stunning. Blonde hair in perfect waves. A cream silk blouse that screamed expensive. Heels that added three inches to legs that didn't need the help. Everything I wasn't. "Jackson." She air-kissed both his cheeks, lingering just long enough to make it uncomfortable. Then she turned to me. "And you must be Sloane." Her eyes swept over me. Head t

The family group chat exploded at eight AM. Mom: *Can't wait to see you both on Valentine's Day! What should I make? Does Jackson have a favorite dish?* I stared at my phone, still half-asleep. ME: *What's Jackson's favorite?* Mom: *You don't know??* Peter: *Red flag.* ME: *He likes everything. Not picky.* Mom: *I'll make roast then. Everyone loves roast.* Susan: *Make sure there's wine. LOTS of wine.* I groaned into my pillow. Four days. We had four days to prepare for an intimate family dinner where my mother would ask a thousand questions and Peter would watch us like a hawk. I texted Jackson. ME: *Emergency prep session. Tonight. My place.* Jackson: *That bad?* ME: *Worse. Bring wine.* He showed up at seven with a bottle of red and Chinese takeout. "You didn't have to bring food," I said, taking the bags. "You said emergency. Emergencies require sustenance." I let him in, suddenly aware of how small my apartment was. How personal. He'd never been here before. He

I showed up at the driving range at eight AM in yoga pants and a hoodie, holding a set of clubs Jackson had dropped off the night before. "I look ridiculous," I said. He looked up from adjusting a tee. Smiled. "You look cute." The word hung between us. His smile faded. "Ready to learn?" he asked quickly. "As I'll ever be." The morning air was crisp, smelling like cut grass and dew. A few other golfers dotted the range, their clubs making sharp cracks as they connected with balls. Jackson handed me a club. "This is a seven iron. Good for beginners." "It's heavy." "You'll get used to it." He positioned me in front of a tee, a white ball perched on top like it was mocking me. "Okay, grip it like this." He demonstrated, hands wrapped around the club. I copied him. Or tried to. "No, your left hand needs to be higher. And rotate your right thumb...here, let me." He stepped behind me. His chest pressed against my back. His arms came around mine, hands covering my hands on the cl

JACKSON I cleaned my apartment for two hours before Sloane was supposed to arrive. Vacuumed. Dusted. Changed the sheets even though she wouldn't see my bedroom. Hid the pile of dirty clothes in the closet. Arranged the couch pillows three different ways before giving up and leaving them messy. This was stupid. She wasn't really my girlfriend. Except every time I reminded myself of that, my brain argued back. The doorbell rang at seven sharp. She stood there in black leggings and an oversized gray sweater that fell off one shoulder. Hair piled in a messy bun. No makeup. Completely comfortable. My heart did something complicated in my chest. "Hi," she said. "Hi." She held up a bag. "I brought candy. Movie theater rules." I stepped aside to let her in. She kicked off her shoes by the door without asking, padding into my living room in striped socks. "Your place is nice," she said, looking around. "Very clean." "I may have stress-cleaned for two hours." "Why were you stressed

Two days. We hadn't spoken in two days. My phone lit up at noon on Thursday. Jackson: *We should probably talk.* I stared at the message for twenty minutes. My coffee went cold. ME: *About?* Jackson: *You know what.* ME: *Do I?* Jackson: *Sloane.* My finger hovered over the keyboard. We both knew what this was about. The kiss. The line we'd crossed. ME: *I have a deadline. Can it wait?* Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. The wait felt like hours. Jackson: *Yeah. Of course.* I set down my phone and tried to focus on work. Failed completely. Picked it back up. Put it down. Picked it up again. Maya texted at two. Maya: *You kissed?' I'd told her about the kiss, needed to tell someone. Maya: *I told you! You both have the hots for each other.* I threw my phone across the couch. She wasn't wrong. That night, I dreamed about the kiss. Except in the dream, we didn't stop. He pressed me against the car, hands in my hair, and I melted into him like I'd been