Page 41 of Just for the Holidays

“What can I help with?” Nichol sets his coffee next to the register and rises off the stool.

“You know, I can probably manage the rest of today. You can take off if you want?”

“Oh.” Nichol almost sounds wounded by the suggestion.

“It’s totally up to you.” Teddy pivots, surprised Nichol didn't jump at the idea of leaving.

“I’d rather not go home, honestly… But I can get out of your hair, if you’d like?” Nichol shrugs.

“Can you prepare more berries?” Teddy slides a bin of fruit across the bench.

Nichol pinches his lips together and starts on the task, carrying the bin around Teddy, to the sink for washing the produce.

The pair work for some time, quietly, until Teddy flips the music on and the shop fills with classic holiday tunes that don’t lift the mood as they should, but at least push away the silence.Crooners from decades before either of them were born, sing about the magic of the holidays and the beauty of snowflakes falling from the sky that silent night when Mary birthed the baby Jesus.

Teddy manages to prep all of the basics to fulfill the order slips. Pastry doughs to chill in the fridge, breads and rolls set aside to rise and cookie batters awaiting their turn to be scooped into trays and baked.

Nichol washes and slices fruits, readying them in mixing bowls to be sweetened for filling the pies, just as he’d observed Teddy do before.

“Teddy… Are you okay?” Nichol returns to his chilled cup of black coffee, wincing at a sip, before dumping it into the sink and carrying the cup to the machine for a refill.

“Yep.” Teddy smiles, forcibly.

“I have to confess something to you… before you come to my sister’s house.”

“What’s that?” Teddy slips two sheets of peanut butter cookies into the oven.

“I may have done something really stupid and embarrassing.’’

Teddy wrinkles his nose, triple-checking the order slips he knows he’s correctly prepared, avoiding eye contact and bracing for impact.

“My mother is overly invested in my love life . . .” Nichol starts. “At dinner last night, she was going on about setting me up with my nephew’s teacher. Hunkly, something,” he adds, tentatively.

“You and BrettHinklywould make a sweet couple.” Teddy’s guts twist as he busies himself rearranging the spice shelf. Two princes with their pretty faces, perfect bodies, a pair of golden retrievers, and a picket fence. He can see it all unfolding in his mind.

Nichol chuffs. “I’m not getting myself involved, I’ll be heading back to the city soon.”

Teddy hides a wince from that jab to his chest.

“But… I may have told them that . . .” He pauses, taking a deep breath, then pushes on. “Well; I told my big-mouthed sister—just to try and get them all off my back… That you and I are kind of—athing.”

Teddy pinches his brows together, blinking, and stretching his forehead, surprised. He turns to Nichol—pleasantly baffled.

Nichol’s face reddens and he grits his teeth behind an awkward smile. “Sorry,” he hisses.

Teddy only has a blank stare, in response. His mind is racing and frozen all at once. The confusion is bubbling behind his eyes.

Nichol hides his face in his palm before raking fingers through his hair.

Teddy cracks, leaning on the workbench to steady his shaking knees and wipes his leaking eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, before bursting harder into a second fit of laughter.

Teddy finally opens his eyes up and the watery blur dries away. Nichol is grimacing at him with knotted arms and tight shoulders.

“Oh my god… sorry!” He attempts to straighten his face, biting the edge of his smirk, unsuccessfully.

Nichol’s brows arch impatiently as he settles onto one leg, jutting his hip forward.

“Me?”I wish.“They believed that?” Teddy looks away from Nichol’s narrowed glare.

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