He reached for a nearby newspaper. The headline read something about the end of The Christmas Company. That page ended up discarded on the floor; the comics section always interested him more than any part of a newspaper, anyway. Determined to ignore Kate and whatever stunt she pulled, Clark only glanced up in time to see Kate walk over to the couch and coquettishly solicit an imaginary suitor for a dance.

“Me? You want to dance with me?”

“Really?” Clark deadpanned.

“I’d be delighted,” she told the imaginary man as she took his invisible hand and led him to the newly made dance floor. Without a triumphant smirk in his direction, her lips wrapped around the whistling notes of a Christmas tune Clark heard a million times before but couldn’t quite place off the top of his head.

“You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I think you’re making a fool out of yourself. You’re letting a beautiful woman dance alone.”

Beautiful woman. She was that and so much more. Clever. Decisive. Loving. Damaged and beyond hopeful. Over the top of his newspaper, he watched her, this woman who invaded his house, his life and perhaps his heart. Watching her directly would make her think she’d won. Discretion was key here.

Clark lived firmly in the real world. Two feet on the ground. Head firmly out of the clouds. Business. Practicality. Frugality. These ideals guided his simple, prosperous and quiet life. He didn’t like superhero franchises or any books about unrealistically clever detectives. Movies rarely made an appearance on his weekly leisure schedule. Television, even less frequently. He saw the world and everyone in it as they were, not as how they wanted to be seen or as he wanted to see them.

…Then Kate curtseyed to an imaginary partner, and Clark’s firm grip on reality dissolved in a haze of magic, magic he didn’t believe in or trust, but that took hold of him all the same.

Before his eyes, the world changed, as easily as turning a page in a book. Kate no longer stood in socked feet on an ancient rug. Her partner wasn’t invisible. Her pajamas were replaced with a ball gown. Her hair swept up into an elaborate updo. The living room was a ballroom, decorated even more grandly for Christmas than before. An orchestra replaced her whistling. A handsome man lifted her and swanned her around the room, making her fall more and more in love with him every step they took together.

And Clark was jealous. Jealous of an apparition. His throat dried. His chest tightened. Leaving her to dance with this imagined rival was no longer possible.

He stepped into this new reality, this historical fairy tale he conjured around them. He crossed the ballroom. His heart pounded louder than the orchestra. And he tapped the stranger on his black suit-clad shoulder.

“May I cut in?”