Chapter Text
December 12th
Sylvie wanders into Stella Kidd’s kitchen and it’s a disaster. There are various beer cans and red solo cups scattered along the countertop. The half picked clean dishes are piled in the sink. There’s also something concerningly sticky on the wood floor that she steps in with her sock.
She knows for a fact that this mess will not be cleaned anytime soon. Stella and Severide are quite intoxicated. It’s an unfortunate yet expected result of tonight’s celebration.
Stella Kidd finally secured a spot at station 51. She gets to relocate to the firehouse where her beloved boyfriend works. It’s a wonderful opportunity so a celebration was in need. Her best friend decided to throw herself a congratulations party here at her apartment.
It was a pretty big turnout but now that it’s nearing midnight, the party guests have begun filtering out. Stella and Severide are making out on the couch in the living area, and she doesn’t exactly want to witness that any more than she needs to.
Cleaning up the mess prevents her from third wheeling and also gives her a legitimate excuse to not want to socialize.
She’s so happy for Stella. She really is, but she’s definitely going to miss her at their current firehouse. However, she knows how badly Stella deserves this. She’s the best firefighter.
Sylvie’s not upset about the change. She knows they will continue being best friends no matter what firehouse they work at.
Her sullen mood is due to her mother’s call this morning. The one where she learned that Harrison and Hope are dating.
The phone call where she made up the most ridiculous lie to her mother about being in her own very happy relationship.
It’s a load of bullshit. She’s been quite single for nearly two years. She doesn’t count the relationship with Joe Cruz. He’s an amazing guy and friend but that was never even a real relationship.
She hasn’t been with anyone since her fiancé left her and she moved to Chicago.
Sylvie paces to the sink, removing the dirty dishes. She runs the water as she scrapes the leftovers into the trash bin.
She doesn’t know why she lied to her mother. She thinks maybe it has to do with the fact that she’s run out of reasons for why she can’t come back for Christmas. Last year she was sick. The year before that, she picked up an extra firehouse shift.
She’s avoiding but her mom and dad have both expressed how much they wish she’d come home.
Unfortunately, she made that all much more complicated with this fake boyfriend thing.
She didn’t want them to worry she’s been on her own all this time. It’s more comforting for them to think she’s happily coupled up.
God, she’s an idiot.
She places a cake tin under the faucet stream, furiously scrubbing dried cake bits with a sponge.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
She’s not surprised Matt is the one who tracked her down hiding in the kitchen. He’s Severide’s best friend but they’ve developed their own kind of kinship. It’s inevitable since they are both the best friends of the very happy couple.
She’s known him since she moved to Chicago, but they aren’t exactly close. They are friends through association. They are the permanent third wheels.
For awhile, she was the fifth wheel for Stella and Severide and Matt and his wife. Now that he’s divorced, it seems they are the two-left standing.
She doesn’t look up from her task. “It’s a mess in here.”
She hears his low chuckle behind her. He’s likely leaning in the doorway or just past the threshold to the kitchen.
“That’s a given but this isn’t your apartment,” he says. “You don’t have to clean.”
She knows that. Truth is, she wants to be in here because that means she doesn’t have to be in the middle of the party, making small talk and engaging in conversation. She’s too distracted to give anyone proper attention.
It’s better she’s here.
“It’s Stella’s night.” Sylvie dries the wet pan with a floral hand towel. “And she’s been hitting the hard stuff. She’ll likely have a hangover tomorrow so she shouldn’t have to clean then. She should rest.”
“Well, Severide could do it.”
There’s no way this man is serious. She sets the dish down on the counter, turning around to finally look at Casey.
Like she predicted, he’s leaning against the door jamb with a beer in hand.
He’s smirks.
She sees what he did there. He tricked her with sarcasm.
“Ah, you’re kidding with me,” she replies. “Clever.”
He laughs, joining her inside the kitchen. “We both know he’s probably never picked up a mop.”
Despite her inner turmoil earlier, she giggles at his comment. Matt Casey has always been surprisingly funny. He has an addicting dry humor for someone so damn serious.
She turns back to the pile of dirty dishes. She grabs a cookie sheet and douses it in soap.
She feels Casey’s shoulder bump against hers when he stands at the sink.
He grabs the soaking sheet from her, towel drying the aluminum steel.
She’s not that surprised he’s helping her. Casey’s more responsible than his best friend. He’s always the first to offer his help.
He once picked her and Stella up from a bar when they were hammered. Stella was fighting with her boyfriend at the time, so she called Casey.
He’s a reliable man.
“You don’t have to help,” she says.
“I know.” He places the dry cookie sheet beside him. “Next dish.”
She sighs, giving in. If he wants to help, that’s fine. Plus, it’ll speed up the process.
She scrubs pink frosting off the bottom of a glass cake dish. She’s pretty sure Cindy made the congratulations cake.
“Are you mad that i’m taking Kidd?” Casey asks, grabbing the dish when she passes it to him. “Is that why you’re hiding in here?”
Casey’s also annoyingly perceptive. He picks up on things that no one else does. For some reason, he can read her like a book.
She blames it on the fact they tend to gravitate towards one another in these social settings. It’s an unspoken thing but it happens.
“No.” She sighs. “Am I going to miss seeing her every shift? Yes, but I also know that she’s so happy going to 51. She deserves it. She gets to be with Severide and you get the best damn firefighter on your truck.”
“I know how lucky 81 is,” he replies. “51 would be even luckier if you decided to make a change.”
She knows what he means. Since his ex-wife left, 51 has yet to find a permanent paramedic replacement. She received an offer to go to 51 about six months ago but she turned it down.
She likes her firehouse as is. Plus, she’s not the type of paramedic that would fit in such a high-profile house.
She can’t take Gabby Dawson’s spot.
Sylvie turns the sink water off, angling her body to look at him. “I’m happy where I’m at, Casey. It’s that simple.”
His eyebrows raise like he doesn’t quite believe her, but he’s smart enough not to push it.
Instead, he passes the hand towel so she can dry her damp hands. “If that’s not bothering you, then what is?”
God, he’s nosey. He cares too much. Why can’t he just ignore her problems like everyone else?
“I’m fine,” she snatches a garbage bag off the floor and begins picking up the trash. “Just focused.”
When she finishes the sentence, her hand squeezes around a near empty beer can. The aluminum crinkles and drops of beer spray her in the face.
Casey grabs a paper towel. “Brett, you just strangled a can. Clearly something is up.”
She takes the napkin and dabs her face dry. “Severide is so right. You are relentless.”
He seems amused. “And Kidd’s dead on when she refers to you as stubborn as hell.”
Damn his wittiness.
She tosses the can into the bag, letting the whole thing slump against the corner. Casey’s not going to let this go. She knows that. He’s never been able to back down before so he’s not starting today.
“Okay, fine.” She huffs. “My mom called today. She told me that Harrison and Hope have been dating apparently.”
She knows she’s told him and Gabby about her ex before, but she realizes he may not remember when she says it.
“Harrison was my…”
“Your shitty fiancé,” he finishes. “And Hope was your best friend growing up. I remember.”
She didn’t expect he would.
“Yes,” she replies. “Those would be the people.”
Casey crosses his arms, resting his back against the island counter. “That’s rough.”
It is but she doesn’t want him to think she’s upset about the relationship.
She’s not.
“I don’t care they’re together,” she says. “In a way, they are perfect for one another…both selfish people. The relationship doesn’t bother me and I’m definitely not jealous.”
He nods. “Then what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I guess that revelation is just another reason why I don’t want to go home for Christmas.”
“I thought you had a great relationship with your parents.”
“I do,” she runs her fingers through her hair. “I have great parents. They are so supportive, and I do miss them.”
She’s only seen them once since the move. They came to Chicago for a weekend a year ago.
It was a great time. She’s very lucky when it comes to her parents. They love and support her.
She misses spending Christmas with them but there are things that keep her from returning home.
She was a different person in Indiana. She was someone she didn’t like.
She doesn’t want to revisit that.
“It’s just that Fowerlton is loaded with memories I wish I could forget,” she admits. “Truth is, I’ve been avoiding it since I moved. I just want to avoid this holiday.”
His blue eyes fill with compassion. He nods slowly, eyes drifting to the clock on the wall. “I get that. I understand wanting to ignore a holiday.”
She realizes that this is the first Christmas since his divorce.
Guilt swells in her chest. “I’m sorry, Casey. I didn’t even think how this is your first Christmas without Dawson
He shrugs it off. “Yeah, it’s been odd, but I know that it’s the right decision. We didn’t want the same things.”
She frowns, resting her hand on his arm. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He clears his throat. “Maybe this year is about us facing the past head on.”
She can’t really do that considering the lie she created. She’s not telling Casey that detail though.
He doesn’t need to know she’s pathetic.
She smacks his arm. “No, that is not the spirit. We’re supposed to be wallowing in our pity.”
He laughs. “That seems healthy.”
Sylvie gives him playful shove. “Hey, I just had three slices of Cindy’s chocolate cake. I’m not concerned about healthy at the moment.”
A crash comes from just outside the kitchen. Stella comes stumbling in, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “I knew I’d find you two together.”
Oh, she’s so drunk.
Sylvie steps away from Casey before Stella makes this a thing. Who knows what she’ll say inebriated.
“Cleaning your mess up like usual, Stel,” Sylvie retorts.
It’s the story of her life.
***
December 13th
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Sylvie props her sock-covered feet on her coffee table, massaging the bridge of her nose as she speaks.
Stella wanders into the living room with a fresh glass of wine. She takes a sip, cuddling back up on the couch next to her best friend.
They try and see each other as often as possible but life gets in the way. It was different when they could catch up during shift, but Stella starts at 51 in a few days.
They know they’ll have to change routines to make their friendship work like it has. Tonight’s mini girls' night at Sylvie’s apartment is the first trial.
Stella tucks her feet beneath her legs. “There’s a way to salvage this.”
Sylvie scoffs.
Stella’s trying to make things seem less terrible but she’s failing. There is no universe in which she can take back the lie she told her mom without making an utter fool of herself.
She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She cannot bring an imaginary man to Fowerlton for the holidays.
“How Stella?” She asks. “If I tell the truth, I’m going to look like an idiot. Worse than that, Harrison and Hope are going to think they’ve bested me or something.”
If they find out she lied to hide how pathetic her love life truly is, she’ll never recover.
“Well not if you find a boyfriend.”
Sylvie’s eyes widen. “Start dating a guy in less than two weeks? That’s never going to happen.”
Stella rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say you needed to start dating. I said you need to find a boyfriend.”
She’s lost.
Her best friend brings the glass to her lips. “Ever seen a romcom?”
Stella’s idea dawns on Sylvie. She sees where she’s going with this.
She sits up, grabbing her own half empty glass of rose. “You mean bring a fake boyfriend? Are you insane?”
“I’m problem solving,” she retorts. “Bringing a guy protects your lie and makes you look good to your terrible ex.”
It would but it’s also damn near impossible. That whole notion is all fiction. This kind of stuff happens in movies, not real life.
“Stella, how exactly do I convince some guy to go along with that on Christmas of all holidays?” Sylvie asks. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, come on!” Stella nudges Sylvie with her foot. “You’re a ten, Brett. Any guy would be lucky to fake date you.”
Stella Kidd is damn good at sweet talk.
She flicks her hand. “Besides, Antonio already has a thing for you. I’m sure he’d be happy to do it.”
Stella’s talking about Antonio Dawson. She’s met him quite a few times at Molly’s and through Gabby over the years. He’s a great guy and very good looking. She can’t argue that but there is no future there.
Sylvie sighs. “Stella.”
“What?” Her best friend questions. “I’m not wrong. He’s been hinting at it for months.”
She knows. He asked her out about four months ago. They went on one awkward date and when he asked to do it again, she turned it down.
It’s a terrible idea.
“That’s exactly why it can’t be him,” Sylvie replies. “I don’t want him to misread the situation and think I’ve changed my mind. He’s an awesome guy but we’re not compatible.”
Sylvie runs her fingers through her hair, propping her knees on the couch cushion. “If I’m going to bring someone to meet my family, it has to be someone extra kind and generous. Someone who isn’t going to expect more. Someone I feel comfortable with.”
Stella’s dark eyes light up with a mysterious hue. Her lips form into a smirk.
“I don like that look,” Sylvie says, an audible edge to her voice.
“Casey,” Stella replies. “You should totally bring Casey.”
What on earth is she talking about?
“Casey?” Sylvie repeats. “Severide’s best friend lieutenant Matt Casey?”
There’s no way she’s serious.
“Oh, come on!” Her friend implores. “You literally just described him. He’s an-all-American Boy Scout and you two have a connection.”
They do not have a connection, and she did not just describe him.
Sure, a lot of the attributes listed are one’s Casey shares but that’s a coincidence. The same could go for a lot of people.
She stands with her empty glass. “Casey and I do not have a connection. We barely know one another.”
Stella scoffs, watching Sylvie busily tidy the living room. “That’s bullshit. You’ve known him for years.”
Sylvie looks at her friend. “And his wife.”
“Ex wife,” Stella corrects.
That doesn’t change much.
“Point is, we’re friends by association. That’s not even a friendship,” Sylvie argues. “That’s like bottom of the barrel relationship status.”
Stella points her finger. “Not true. Anytime we all hang out, you and Casey gravitate to one another.”
Sylvie rolls her eyes. “Of course we do. You and Severide force us in these positions. We’re the third wheels.”
They may hang out in a group setting but it’s always arranged by either Stella or Severide. She and Casey have never casually hung out alone.
“Come on, Brett,” Stella calms her frenzied curls with her hand. “Just the other day, the waitress assumed you and Casey were a thing.”
That’s true but it still doesn’t mean anything. They were sitting on the same side of the table while Stella and Severide were all over one another. It makes sense why the waitress would think they were on a double date.
“Stella…”
Her best friend stands. It’s as if she thinks the extra height is going to make her win this discussion.
“Sylvie,” She interupts. “Casey’s the perfect choice. He’s someone you trust, and it would be believable.”
“Believable?”
“You guys have a vibe. A vibe you clearly don’t share with Antonio.”
That is so off base.
“There’s no vibe,” Sylvie replies. “Not even an inkling of a vibe.”
Stella doesn’t look like she believes her.
Sylvie huffs, shaking her head. “Whatever. There is no connection between Casey and me. Not to mention, he has his own family to spend the holidays with. I’m not conning him into lying for me. I’m just going to find another way to save face.”
Stella crosses her arms. “How?”
Sylvie shrugs. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out later. Right now, all I want is wine and to watch trashy reality tv without bringing up Casey’s name.”
She doesn’t have a solution yet, but she knows whatever she comes up with will not involve Matt Casey.
No way in hell.
***
December 15th
The Christmas festivity normally doesn’t bother Matt. Is he a big holiday person? No, but he still partook in the festivity for the people around him.
It’s different this year. He’s divorced. Gabby is living somewhere outside the states. He’s here in Chicago where he refuses to leave.
He could have followed his ex-wife, but the truth is, that wouldn’t have made either of them happy. They’ve been falling apart for a year leading up to the divorce.
They used marriage as a bandaid for their prior issues only it didn’t do a damn thing. The issues progressed until all that was left was a document with both their signatures.
It’s his first Christmas without her in years though which hasn’t been the easiest pill to swallow. It’s probably why Molly’s Christmas music and decorations are irritating the hell out of him tonight.
Hermann decked the bar out with multicolored lights, paper snowflakes and big red bows tied around the backs of the stools. He’s been blasting a jazzy rendition of one of the typical Christmas songs for the last three hours.
It’s obnoxious but at least Hermann’s selling the hard proof liquor this year so Matt can drown his sorrows.
He’s downing his second glass when Stella Kidd approaches him from the other side of the bar. She’s wearing a red Santa hat tonight in honor of the Christmas spirit.
“So, Casey.”
Shit. Matt knows that damn look. He’s seen the mischievous glint in her dark eyes countless times before. It never ends well for him.
He groans. “I know that tone and look, Kidd. You do it when you or Sev need a favor. What now?”
He’s going to have to get used to her tricks now that she’s officially stationed on his rig. He knows she’s technically going to have to answer to him now, but she’ll still be a pain in the ass.
Kidd props her chin in her hand, leaning on the sticky bar top. “What do you think of Brett?”
It only takes him less than a minute to recognize the name. “Your best friend, Brett?”
She nods. “Yes.”
That’s an odd question. He needs more context.
“What do you mean what do I think of her?”
Kidd huffs impatiently. “I mean, what do you think of her, Casey.”
He feels like he’s walking into a trap.
“She’s sweet,” he answers. “Kind. Surprisingly funny at times. She’s a good person.”
Severide’s girlfriend doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “I agree with all of that.”
Matt raises his eyebrow in confusion. He’s unsure where she’s going with this.
“Listen, you remember Brett’s ex-fiancé?” Kidd asks.
Matt does. Sylvie’s told him about him in passing over the years.
“Sure. The jerk who dumped her.”
She nods. “That would be the one.”
He still doesn’t see what this ex has to do with their conversation.
“He’s dating Hope now,” Kidd says. “Shitty former best friend.”
He remembers.
“Yep, I know. Brett told me the other night.” Matt slides his empty glass to Kidd for a refill. “I feel bad for her. That’s rough.”
She pours more whiskey into the glass. “It is. It makes her visit back home that much worse.”
He didn’t realize she decided she was going to go home for the holidays. The other night, she was very against it.
“I’m sure it does.”
Kidd sets the bottle back on the shelf, resting her palms on the counter. “It’s partly why she told her mom she’s bringing a date back home.”
A date? He wasn’t aware she was seeing anyone. This is the first he’s heard this.
“I didn’t know Brett’s seeing somebody,” he replies. “Is that new or…”
Kidd smirks at him and he regrets the question. She looks smug.
“She’s not,” she says. “She just told her mom she was in a panic. She’s created this lie about a boyfriend that she’ll get caught in unless…”
“Unless?”
She eyes him expectantly, raising her brows.
She’s not serious.
“You want me to pretend to be the boyfriend,” he realizes. “Kidd, are you nuts?”
“Is it so hard to imagine?” She retorts. “Plus, this is for Brett. If she goes back to Indiana alone, not only will they know she lied but Harrison and Hope will rub it in her face. They’ll tear her down like they did before she came to Chicago. Do you want that?”
He scoffs. “Of course I don’t want that, Kidd, but what you’re suggesting is insane.”
Sylvie doesn’t deserve to be treated badly but his involvement is a terrible idea. They barely know one another.
“Brett has no clue you’re propositioning this, does she?” He asks.
Stella chews on her lip. “Okay maybe not exactly but she did say that if she did bring a fake beau, it’d have to be somebody trustworthy and a gentleman. That’s you to a tee.”
She’s sweet talking him to disguise her true intentions. She’s playing match maker.
“Brett and I aren’t even close,” he argues. “She barely knows me. You really think she’d want to spend a holiday with me and her family? That’s crazy.”
He does like Brett. She’s impossible not to like but their budding friendship is quite new. When he was married, they were just casual acquaintances. They both made it that way.
“That’s such bull. You two have a thing,” she retorts. “But whatever. You’re right. I’m sure Antonio would do it instead anyway.”
Okay, hold up.
The bottom of his glass clinks against the counter. “Antonio as in Antonio Dawson?”
Kidd intentionally avoids his gaze, casually scrubbing a sticky spill from the bar top. “Yeah. He’s had a thing for her. I’m sure he’d be eager to do it.”
He did not know that his former brother-in-law wanted Brett. He doesn’t know why but that revelation irritates him.
Sylvie’s a very generous person. She’s beyond compassionate and Antonio Dawson isn’t either of those things most days.
Matt scoffs. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. Months,” she replies. “You haven’t noticed?”
He hasn’t.
Kidd grins. “You seem bothered by this, Casey.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not bothered. Brett can date whoever she wants.”
“So, she can Antonio?”
“Do you seriously want her with him?” Matt asks. “You’re all for it?”
Kidd shakes her head. “I didn’t say that. Antonio is a good guy but he’s not good for Brett. We both know it.”
She’s right. Sylvie’s too good for him. She’s too good for most men.
“I’ve known Dawson forever.” Matt says. “Brett is nothing like the type of women he goes for. She’s too sweet. He’s rough around the edges. It’s surprising.”
“I know but he’s probably the only one willing to help her out.” She trails off, looking past his shoulder. “Unless you offer.”
Matt sighs. “Kidd.”
“What?” She retorts. “You want Brett getting her heart stomped on by Antonio.”
He doesn’t. His former brother-in-law has a reputation for breaking hearts and Brett’s is too pure to fall victim to that.
“Of course not.”
“Then why not do it?” She smiles. “You’re not going to hurt her like he could. You’re also the perfect gentlemen her parents would adore. Not to mention, you and Brett get along great. A fake relationship would be believable.”
It’s not the most insane sales pitch but it’s still nuts.
“You told Kelly and I you wanted a new reality for the holidays. This is the perfect opportunity to forget about your failed marriage and help Brett survive a very tough week.”
She’s damn convincing.
He would be able to forget his own troubles by committing to this lie. It’s a great distraction.
Plus, Brett might actually get to enjoy her time home with her family if he was there as a buffer.
A customer flags Kidd down at the other end of the bar.
She huffs and then places her hand on his forearm. “Think about it, Lieutenant.”
She leaves him alone to tend to the customer. Her annoying words ring in his head like a bell, drowning out the awful holiday music.
***
December 17th
It was not Sylvie’s best idea to climb the tree to save the little girl’s cat. Luckily Mister Muffins is safe but now she’s going to have scratches on her arms and back for days. She also has a decent sized bruise on her back from when she lost her balance and tumbled out the damn oak tree.
She’s sore and freezing and in desperate need of a really nice warm bath now that she’s finally off shift.
It’s her last one before her dreaded return home this holiday. She couldn’t bring herself to find an excuse or tell the truth to her mother. She could hear the desperation in her voice. Her mom wants her to come home.
It’s important to her but it’s also important to Sylvie. She encounters death every week. Life is fleeting and if God forbid something happened, she’d regret not visiting her parents.
She’s decided that she’ll just tell her parents that her fake boyfriend already had plans or something. She’s still working out the details.
Sylvie shrugs on her winter coat, zipping it up for her short walk to her car. The windchill is brutal this morning and it looks like it’s beginning to flurry.
She closes her locker and shoulders on her duffel. She’s fiddling with the strap when she hears thudding footsteps enter the locker room.
She assumes it’s one of her co-workers running back in to grab something they forgot.
When she glances up, she realizes she’s very wrong.
Matt Casey is in the doorway, bundled in a coat and beanie with his hands tucked in his pockets.
He’s not supposed to be here. He doesn’t work here.
“Casey,” she says. “Hey.”
He smiles a little, clearing his throat. “Hi.”
Sylvie adjusts her own pink knitted beanie over her blonde waves. “Did Hodges accidentally tool-nap your jaws again?”
The only other time Casey has come by her firehouse was to chew out the Lieutenant who tends to grab the wrong tools during clean up.
She wouldn’t be surprised if it happened again.
He shakes his head. “Uh, no. No. Not this time, surprisingly.”
She doesn’t understand how the engine lieutenant can’t keep track of his own equipment. She’s offered to label the tools for Hodges but he turned her down.
It would solve a lot of issues.
However, she still doesn’t know why Casey’s here.
“Huh,” she replies. “Then what brings you to this side of town?”
He wanders further into the space. “I’m actually here about you.”
That’s new.
Her heart begins to beat a little faster under her coat. “Me? Is it Stella? Is she…”
He shakes his head, holding out a hand. “No. No. Kidd is fine. She’s good. It’s not that.”
She sighs in relief. “Good.”
“Well maybe it’s a bit about her,” he says, mostly to himself. “I guess.”
She’s confused.
She sets her duffel down on the tile floor, stretching her arm. The extra weight doesn’t feel good on the back.
“You remember the party the other night?” Casey asks.
She definitely does. She practically planned it.
“Yeah. It was just a few days ago.”
“Right, yeah.” He clears his throat again. “You mentioned how you weren’t looking forward to going back home but you left out the part about the lie you told your mother.”
The realization hits her like a bolt of lighting. Adrenaline courses through her veins.
“Oh my god,” she mutters. “I’m going to kill Stella. She’s a goner.”
“Brett.”
How dare her best friend do this to her? This is humiliating! She never wanted Casey to know about this mess, let alone get dragged into it.
“Casey, I’m sorry.” Her voice comes out fast and her hand flails in the space between them. “I swear to you, I did not ask her to ask you. I had no idea she was going to say something…”
He gently cuts her off again, grabbing her arm to halt her movements. “Brett.”
She stops, cheeks hot and red. “I’m so going to murder her.”
He lets go.
Casey cracks a smile. “I know you had nothing to do with Kidd’s sales pitch. She’s meddling.”
She is. Sylvie knows Stella has her best interest at heart but her execution sucks.
“I’ll talk to her,” Sylvie says. “I’ll tell her to leave you alone and…”
Casey shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that. I didn’t come here to ridicule you.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “Then why did you come?”
He stuffs his hands back in his pockets. “At first, I thought Kidd’s idea was insane. It was idiotic, but she did make some good points.”
Sylvie winces. “I’m afraid to hear them.”
“She’s right about how your ex-fiancé and best friend deserve to be knocked down a few pegs,” he replies. “I can see how much you miss your parents, and I realize your little lie to your mother was created so she wouldn’t worry.”
Sadly, he’s right.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she mutters.
“You deserve a good holiday,” Casey says. “I’d like to help you get that.”
What?
She’s pretty sure she must have misheard that last part because there is no way he’s serious.
Stella Kidd’s convincing but she’s not that convincing.
“I’m sorry, what?” She asks.
“You need a fake date,” he shrugs. “And I need a distraction. It’s not that crazy.”
It is crazy. It’s insane.
It’s beyond insane.
It’s clinical.
“Is Kidd blackmailing you?”
He laughs. “No.”
She brings her hand to her temple. “You don’t have to do this. I mean, what about your holiday? You don’t want to spend it living a lie surrounded by festive Brett’s.”
Her family is a lot. He didn’t sign up for that.
“My sister and niece are spending the holiday with Christie’s new guy in some snowy ski resort,” he replies. “My current holiday plans consist of me third wheeling Severide and Kidd all Christmas and you know exactly how unappealing that is.”
She does. She’s been that third wheel for forever.
Casey sighs. “I’ve spent the last countless Christmas’s with Gabby. It’s the first one without her in a long time. That’s not easy.”
Empathy swells in her chest. She knows how hard that must be. His openness tears down some of her doubts.
“I would rather spend that time sticking it to your jerk ex fiancé,” he says. “If that’s something you still want?”
It is but it isn’t.
Sure, Casey is the ideal actor for the part. She feels comfortable around him. They have clear boundaries within their friendship. Lines won’t blur with him.
However, pretending to be in love with Matt Casey for a week in front of her family and hometown feels a bit dangerous.
She doesn’t want to ruin the good thing they have going as casual friends.
Then again, he’s offering her a great solution to her problem.
“Are you sure?” She asks. “It’s five days of holiday fun with my family and five days pretending to be a couple. It’s a lot.”
“You should know by now that I’m always game for a challenge,” he teases. “The question is, can you handle it?”
She can.
She grins. “I definitely can.”
Casey smiles. “Then I guess it’s official. I’m your fake date for the week.”
Great. What could go wrong?
***
December 21st
“Are you okay?”
Casey’s voice breaks through Sylvie’s daydream. She lifts her head off the passenger side window of his truck.
Casey’s eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, keeping his attention on the snow dusted road ahead. His hand rests on the steering wheel as he drives.
Sylvie glances at the clock on his dash. They are about three hours into the three- and-a-half-hour drive to her hometown in Indiana. They spent a lot of the time discussing the game plan for this week.
After Casey agreed, she decided to prep him for what a week in her hometown would look like. She gave him a run down of all her family members, Hope and her history with her ex-fiancé.
She found it surprisingly easy to share that information with him over drinks at Molly’s or nestled on her apartment couch. She had been so focused on the preparation that she hadn’t thought about the reality.
She has to spend about six days pretending to be in love with Matt Casey. He’s going to act like a doting boyfriend to her which suddenly feels incredibly stupid.
What was she thinking?
She clears her throat. “Yeah.” She glances at him. “Are you sure you want to commit to this? My family is a lot.”
He chuckles. “Brett, we’re three hours into this drive. If I was going to back out, it would have happened an hour or two ago.”
He’s reassuring her but it doesn’t work. Her family may be a lot but so is she. Sure, she and Casey are friends, but they haven’t exactly spent a lot of one-on-one time together. What if he finds her annoying? What if he can’t stand her after less than a day?
What if he regrets going along with this ruse?
Casey can apparently read her mind because he glances away from the road to get her attention. “Sylvie, what’s going on in your head right now?”
He called her Sylvie which is something they’ve previously gone over during the prep time. It would be strange if he kept referring to her by her last name in front of her family. She’s supposed to be his girlfriend. She also needs to make sure to call him Matt this week instead of Casey.
She sighs, running her fingers through her wavy curls. “It just feels like I’m asking so much of you. I mean, you’re putting on an act for an entire week. You barely know me. What if you discover that you hate me over these few days?”
He rolls his eyes, chuckling under his breath. “You don’t have to worry about that, and I do know you. I know a lot about you.”
No, he doesn’t. They barely interacted the first year they met.
She scoffs. “No, you don’t.”
He gives her a look, raising an eyebrow. “You want to take that bet?”
She feels a pang of indignation form in her chest. She wants to prove him wrong and she’s not sure why.
“Sure,” she agrees. “Probably should work on our compatibility now before we have an audience.”
It’s probably not a bad idea to make sure he knows enough about her for their relationship to be believable.
“Deal,” he agrees, adjusting the knob to the heat. It’s nearly ten degrees outside and his construction company truck isn’t the most insulated. “Ask me questions.”
“Okay.” She ponders for a moment. “What’s my favorite color?”
This time, Casey scoffs. “Really? You’re starting with that.”
She crosses her arms. “I didn’t hear an answer in that.”
“Fine.” He huffs. “You don’t have a favorite. It changes every day depending on your mood or the color’s purpose. Some days its yellow, other days pink.”
Okay, that was too easy of a question. Yes, it is true. She has said that picking a favorite color is like picking a favorite child, but his answer is still a non-answer.
“That’s a safe guess,” she retorts.
He glances away from the road for a moment. “Is it a wrong one?”
It’s not.
Sylvie clears her throat. “Next question.”
A self-satisfied smirk tugs at the edge of his mouth when he focuses his attention back on the windshield.
“What was my beloved childhood stuffed animal?”
This is an important thing he needs to know because her mother will definitely want to get it out of whatever storage box it is in.
She thinks she’s beat him when the silence lingers but then he answers. “It was a plush pink pig with a ridiculous name. It was from some book.”
How the hell does he know that? She mentioned it once a long time ago when Hermann was complaining about how Annabelle was still dragging around a ratty looking bear with her.
She didn’t even think Casey was paying attention.
“Wilbur is not a dumb name,” she quips. “And Charlotte’s Web is not just some book. It’s a literary classic.”
“Right,” he teases. “My apologies but I was still correct.”
Maybe he does know her better than she thought. Or, he just has a damn good memory.
She tries to think of a question he definitely wouldn’t know just so she can win one.
“Face it, Brett,” Casey says. “I do know you. It’s hard not to after all these years.”
She’s not letting him gloat too long. “Those were easy questions. It doesn’t mean you know me that well. It doesn’t mean my family is going to buy this whole thing.”
“Sylvie, I know that you prefer your coffee with about six packets of cream and sugar. You’re terrible with sports trivia. You wear the same lucky Chicago bears jersey every football game day. Rośe wine is your alcoholic beverage of choice. If you have more than two shots of tequila, you get a buzz. If you try and drink whiskey, you end up a tired drunk who sleeps on my floor. Oh, and any sort of sweet treat causes your eyes to light up,” he lists.
She’s speechless. He just rattled off so many dead-on observations about herself. Things she’s never even stopped to notice.
Casey suddenly clears his throat. “You don’t see someone several times a week for two years and not notice these things, Brett.”
“I…I’m impressed,” she whispers. “You do pay good attention for a guy. Even some of those things date back to when you were married so I didn’t think you’d remember.”
Casey flips on his turn signal, switching lanes. “Yeah, well I did.” He speeds around the snowplow in front of him and then merges back into the prior lane. “Point is, I think I know enough to convince your family. Plus, whatever I don’t know, I’ll improvise.”
She nods. “Good plan.”
He glances at her. “I know you’re nervous but it’s your family and it’s just less than a week. After this, you can tell your family you dumped my ass or something.”
That’s another concern at the forefront of her mind. Matt Casey is an incredible man. Her parents will either not be able to fathom how she broke up with him or will feel heartbroken it’s over.
“I’m not sure my dumping you is believable,” she admits. “I didn’t even dump Harrison who was the biggest jerk.”
He shrugs. “Well then, you can kill me off in some blazing fire.”
She laughs at his absurdity. “Yeah, I think that’s going to make things even more complicated.”
“Just offering solutions.”
She lightly punches him in the bicep. “Just drive. We’re almost there.”
***
Sylvie’s warned Matt about how much the Brett’s celebrate Christmas. She’s shared the traditions and long extended family lore.
Matt assumed she was exaggerating but once he turns into the gravel driveway, he realizes she was dead on.
Her childhood home is a beige two story farmhouse surrounded by at least thirty acres of farmland. Multi-colored Christmas lights are strung along the roof overhang. Two rows of oak trees on either side of the driveway all have lights and tinsel wrapped around the leaves. Their branches are also dusted with a fine layer of white snow.
Sylvie leans forward in the passenger seat, fiddling with her seatbelt latch. “I told you I wasn’t exaggerating.”
She definitely wasn’t. As he urges the truck further towards the house, he sees a plastic sleigh and reindeer parked by the garage. The seat of the sleigh is filled with chopped lumber wood.
It’s all so Christmas like. He’s not used to this. Growing up, his family never really went out of the way to celebrate the holiday. Christie did her best when he was younger but as they got older, traditions just disappeared.
He spent it a similar way when it was just he and Gabby. They put up a tree and drank egg nog. That was as festive as it got.
“You weren’t kidding,” he agrees. “It’s a winter wonderland here.”
The screen door to the front porch opens when he shifts the vehicle in park. An older woman with grey-blonde hair steps out into the porch light. She’s in a wool cardigan, jeans and a knit hat.
She waves enthusiastically at their vehicle.
He knows right away she’s Sylvie’s mom. Matt is aware Sylvie’s adopted but they still share similarities. They both have bubbly personalities and matching mannerisms.
Sylvie exits the passenger door while he gets out the driver side. Once her mom sees her, she takes off down the three icy steps towards the driveway with her arms extended.
“Oh, my baby is home for Christmas!” She squeezes Sylvie tightly, rocking her back and forth. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
Matt smiles at the exchange of affection, opening the back seat to grab their duffels and Sylvie’s sparkly blue suitcase.
“Hi mom,” Sylvie’s breath fans out in front of her. “Merry early Christmas.”
He shoulders on the duffels and grabs the suitcase in the other hand. He shuts his car door and rounds the vehicle to join the women.
Sylvie’s mom pulls back, cupping her daughter’s cheeks in her hands. “It’s the best Christmas ever getting to see this face.”
He can’t help but grin at the love Brett’s receiving. She deserves it and he can tell that she’s happy to be home despite her earlier reservations.
The older woman looks over Brett’s shoulder, moving her hands to her side. She holds one hand over her heart, smiling wide. “And this must be your new guy.”
Sylvie bumps her arm against his, nodding. “Um, yes. This is Matt Casey. Matt meet my mom.”
He sets the suitcase down so he can extend his hand. This may not be a real meet the parents' moment but he still wants to make a good impression. They know Sylvie’s standards are high, so he needs to meet those.
“It’s wonderful to meet you Mrs. Brett…”
Her mom doesn’t accept the handshake. Instead, she crushes him into a tight hug. He quickly complies, banding his free arm around her back.
Sylvie looks a bit smug over her shoulder.
“Us Brett’s are huggers.” She squeezes him. “And please call me Betty. Mrs Brett was my mother.”
Sylvie clears her throat. “Okay, mom. I think you can let him go now.”
Betty does, giving her daughter a look. “You can’t bring home a prospective husband and not expect me to give him a proper welcome.”
Her use of the title prospective husband makes him feel a bit guilty, but he reminds himself that Sylvie wanted him to do this.
Betty beams at him. “It’s great to finally meet you, Matt. My daughter has told me wonderful things.”
Wonderful things that really aren’t about him.
“I’ve heard the same about you,” he says.
Betty perches her hands on her hips, turning to her daughter. “You weren’t wrong sweetheart when you described him as a cute fireman.”
Sylvie’s eyes widen. “Mom.”
Her mother continues on anyway. “I mean, he does have perfect blue eyes and everything.” She looks at Matt, grasping his arm. “You must be that good looking lieutenant my girl has been going on about for years. I always told her she had a crush.”
Sylvie’s cheeks burn bright red. She looks humiliated and it takes him a second to see why. Her mom isn’t referencing the descriptions of the fake boyfriend she gave before he agreed to do this.
Sylvie was actually talking about him.
“Mother,” Sylvie whines. “Can we not discuss this right now?”
Betty ignores her, waiting for him to answer.
Matt nods. “Yeah, I must be.”
Brett claps her hands together, warming them up with the friction. “Mom, it’s nearly subzero out here and you're in just a sweater. Why don’t we go inside? I assume dad is in there?”
Betty nods. “Yep. He’s finishing up tonight’s beef roast in the crockpot. I hope you two are hungry. Your dad made enough food for an army.”
It is close to dinner time and nearly dark. He hasn’t really eaten anything since breakfast so a hot meal sounds great.
Matt grabs the suitcase again. Sylvie bumps against him, keeping her voice low as her mom heads into the house first. “You regret this yet?”
He chuckles, placing a free hand against the small of her back as he pushes her ahead. “There’s no such thing as regretting a hot home cooked meal, Brett.”
She shoots him a look over her shoulder. “There is when it means you have to meet my dad.”
She opens the screen door for them as he follows behind. “Is he going to shoot me?”
She laughs, lightly kicking him in the shin when they enter the foyer without her mom noticing. “He didn’t shoot Harrison so you should be fine.”
She makes a great point.
Betty joins them again to latch the screen door two separate times. As she does, she complains how the December wind chill makes the house drafty and they’ve tried everything to conserve the heat.
He places the bags by the stairs. “Have you tried using rubber sealing strips on your doors?”
Betty shakes her head. “No. My husband tried caulk, but it didn’t do much good. I’ve never heard of these strips.”
He’s a contractor on the side so he knows these things. In fact, he probably has some left-over strip material in his truck bed.
Sylvie smiles. “Matt has a construction business on the side. He works on houses.”
“No wonder you love him,” her mom quips. “This girl lives and breathes renovation shows. She came out of the womb loving it. You two are a match made in Heaven.”
He did know how much she loves the home and garden channel. She’s always eager to ask him questions about his projects. She’s one of the only people who like to hear him talk shop.
“Trust me, I know,” he replies. “But if you’d like to try them, I think I have some leftover material in my truck. I could install them on your doors sometime this week. Free of charge of course.”
When Matt glances at Sylvie, she’s looking at him with an expression he can’t name. Did he take things too far?
They are interrupted when a man’s voice carries through the living room. An older gentleman with white hair, rounder belly and mustache comes into the foyer. He’s in a flannel and jeans.
It’s Sylvie’s dad.
“There is my baby girl,” he crushes her into a bear hug, holding a large hand against the back of her head. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Hi dad! I’ve missed you too.”
He lets go and his overly loving expression morphs into a neutral one when he sees Matt.
“This must be the boyfriend,” he replies.
“Dad, this is Matt Casey. Matt this is my dad,” she introduces. “And yes, he’s the boyfriend.”
For the next few days.
Matt extends his hand. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Brett.”
To Matt’s relief, he accepts the handshake instead of a hug. Apparently, Mr. Brett isn’t a hugger.
“Good to meet you, son,” her father replies. “But call me Bert.”
Formality is clearly not their thing.
Matt nods. “Sounds good, Bert.”
Sylvie clears her throat, patting her stomach. “Gosh, I am starved. Why don’t we have dinner before it gets cold?”
She’s creating a distraction.
Her father slings his arm around his daughter. “Absolutely. Let’s get you fed.”
He could really eat.
***
Sylvie worried about Matt’s first impression for nothing. After they finished with dinner, Casey offered to help her mom with the dishes. His generosity won himself some great brownie points. Her mom even shooed her out the kitchen so she could clean up with Casey alone.
It initially stressed her out to leave him alone. They made a pact before they arrived this evening that they wouldn’t split ways. If they ended up alone, someone in her family may discover that they are liars.
Casey assured her he would be fine by himself with her mom when she snuck up behind him at the sink.
She had no choice but to believe him.
Turns out, he was right. When they finished the clean-up, they joined her and her dad in the living room. Her mom immediately started gushing about him.
Sylvie wasn’t that surprised her mom likes Casey. She’s not exactly the hard one to please. It’s her dad that causes more stress. He has never been very friendly to any guy she’s ever brought home.
She thought it would have taken a few more days to tear down his walls but by the time nighttime rolls around, her dad and Casey are getting along great. They are bonding over hard whiskey and sports talk.
Sylvie wanders into the living room with a mug of egg nog and sits on the plush green armchair across from them. She admires her parent’s great big pine tree with so many childhood ornaments hung on the branches.
“Sylvie,” her mom says. “Aren’t you going to sit next to Matt? Why are you all the way over there?”
She wishes her mom would just stay oblivious for once.
She brings her mug to her lips. “I don’t want to crowd you guys.”
If she joins them on the couch, that means she’ll need to sandwich between Casey and her parents. Three people on one old sofa is enough.
They don’t need a fourth.
Her mother scoffs. “Honey, that’s nonsense. There’s plenty of room.”
Casey glances at her with a mischievous grin. She can tell he’s not thrilled with his current situation stuck between both her parents while she’s on her own island.
“Yeah, babe,” he replies, purposely stressing the term of endearment. They agreed that they weren’t going to be one of the couples that talk like that. He’s getting back at her for leaving him stuck with her parents while she made eggnog. “Come on over.”
God, he’s smug.
She huffs, pushing herself out of her comfy seat. She pads over to the sofa, squeezing herself next to him. She brings her leg across her lap, intentionally kicking Casey in the inner thigh for his part in this.
She turns her head. “Better, honey?”
He winces. “Yep.”
Her father stretches his arms above his head, yawning at a loudness level only dads achieve. He nearly smacks Sylvie in the head, so she has to duck under Casey’s arm.
They are close. Incredibly close. She’s practically on his lap and she can feel his exhale against the back of her neck.
Suddenly, she wishes she stayed strong by staying away.
“I am exhausted,” her dad says. “I’m sure you two kiddos are too after your afternoon of travel.”
She glances at the clock with the rooster face. It’s only 9:00 pm.
Her mom stands, folding the knit blanket into squares. “Your dad is right. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Your brother and his wife are flying in.”
She hasn’t seen her brother Tyler in two years. They FaceTime every once and awhile or text, but they are both very busy with work.
She’s excited to see him.
However, she wishes her parents decided it was bedtime before she forced herself next to Casey.
Her dad stands too, allowing Sylvie to slide over to his side of the sofa and create space. Her dad grabs the empty glasses and retreats to the kitchen.
“You’re probably right, mom. I’ll show Matt to the guest room and make sure he gets situated.”
Her mother furrows her brow. “Guest room? Oh honey, no. You two are staying in your childhood bedroom.”
Hang on a second.
Her parents have never permitted a sleepover with a man before. She just assumed they’d make Matt sleep in her brother’s old room.
“I figured you’d want us sleeping in separate rooms,” she replies. “Isn’t that the house rule?”
“When you were eighteen, sweetie.” Her mom gestures to Matt. “But now you’re in a serious adult relationship. Plus, Tyler’s old room has roof damage from the spring. It’s a construction zone in there.”
Of course that would have to happen this one week. When she planned this ruse, she assumed they wouldn’t have to share a bed. Casey didn’t agree to this.
“I thought you’d be happy,” she replies. “Wouldn’t you rather share a room with Matt?”
No. No, she really wouldn’t considering they aren’t in a serious relationship. They’ve never slept in the same room, let alone shared a bed.
However, her mom cannot know that.
Sylvie puts on an Oscar worthy act, grabbing Matt’s hand tight in hers. “No. Of course, I do. We share a bed all the time. We sleep together frequently.”
Oh my god…did she just say that out loud?
Matt’s eyes are wide as he tries to save her mistake. “What she means is, she spends a lot of nights at my place. A joint bedroom sounds great. Thank you.”
Her mom replies with a smile. “Of course. I left a stack of extra blankets on the bed. Sylvie, you know where the extra pillows are if you need.”
She does.
Sylvie nods. “Yep. I do. Thanks, mom.”
Her mom places a kiss in her hair. “Good night, kids. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll whip up some blueberry pancakes.”
Sylvie smiles, overlapping her other hand onto Matt’s. “Sounds wonderful. Good night, mom.”
She waves and then wanders down the hall towards their bedroom. When she leaves, Sylvie releases Casey’s hand.
Sharing a bed has just made this even more damn complicated.
***
She listens as Casey brushes his teeth in the adjoined bathroom. After her parents went to their room, she had no choice but to show Casey to her old bedroom. Sadly, her mom hasn’t changed much from her teenage years. Her bed still has the yellow comforter with daisies on it and her pale blue walls are covered in embarrassing photos of herself during her childhood.
It’s still a shrine.
She changed into a long CFD shirt and fluffy pajama pants with snowflakes on them while Casey was changing in the bathroom.
She digs through her open suitcase for her toiletry bag and makeup wipes. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“Sylvie, it’s fine.” Matt pops his head into the bedroom; toothbrush lodged between his teeth. He’s changed into a t-shirt with the lieutenant emblem on the front and sweats. “I can take the floor if you feel more comfortable.”
She is not going to put him through that. He’s sacrificed so much for her.
She retrieves her bag and wipes, joining Casey in her bathroom’s entrance. “Absolutely not. You are not sleeping on this wooden floor. Your back will hate you for it.”
He backs further into the bathroom, giving her room to set up at the sink. She doesn’t have a dual sink inside the bathroom. It’s just one countertop, a bowl sink and mirror.
It’s cramped.
Casey leans over, spitting the toothpaste into the sink. He rinses his mouth. “I’ve slept on floors before, Brett. I’d be fine.”
She yanks a wipe from the pack, rubbing the makeup off her face. It dawns on her that Casey’s never seen her without makeup on.
“No. End of discussion.” She places her hand on his chest and tries to push him out. “And you gotta go or turn the lights off or something. You don’t deserve to see me without makeup.”
He chuckles. “What? Are you serious? Sylvie, I’ve seen you without makeup.”
That revelation stops her in her tracks. She drops the wipe. “You have not!”
He pries her hand off him, edging back into the bathroom. “I hate to break it to you, but I have. The morning you woke up hungover on my condo floor.”
Damn it. She remembers what he’s talking about. Years ago, while he was married, she Kidd and Gabby went out. She drank too much tequila and ended up passed out on his and Gabby’s floor.
“She told me you hadn’t been home yet,” Sylvie replies. “That you had gone to the gym, and I was gone before you got back.”
He shakes his head, unlatching his watch. He places it on the sink. “No. I was there when Gabby brought you into the house. You were pretty far gone and she wasn’t much better. She told me I needed to get your makeup off.”
She remembers waking up with a clean face but just assumed it all rubbed off during her drunken stupor.
“Oh my god. You wiped off my makeup?”
He shrugs. “Against my will, yes.”
That is so damn humiliating.
“Point is, I’ve seen it,” he says. “And you really don’t look any different so you shouldn’t be embarrassed. Just take it off.”
He’s given her a lot to process but he’s partially right. She does need to take it off.
She uses the wipe to remove all the makeup. “I hate you.”
“And, if I’ve seen your childhood braces and glasses…you without makeup should be the least of your concerns.”
She throws the wipe in the trash. “I told you not to look at any of those!”
He grins.
Severide is right. He’s annoying as hell some days.
She grabs her own toothbrush, squeezing a glob onto the bristles. “Get out of my bathroom, Casey before I assault you with this tube of toothpaste.”
He raises his hands in the air in fake surrender before going into the bedroom.
She rolls her eyes in the mirror as she brushed her teeth.