Page 17 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

There it is. When her demands and orders don’t work, Mom never fails to pull out the guilt trip.

“You need to come home.”

“No, Mom. I’m not. And I know you’re not well, but I can’t help you with that.”

“You sullen boy, how can you say something so cruel to your own mother?”

“Mom, it’s not?—”

“No, no, you need to come home right now and apologize. To me. To everyone. How damn selfish can you be?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Bye, Mom. Stop calling me.”

I don’t hear her last words as I lower the phone and end the call, but I can guess what they are. My next breath is short as the tightness in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. Maybe Dad would be ashamed of me, but I hope he would see the value in my efforts to make myself happy.

To get back what I lost.

Lowering my head, it rests in my palm as I focus on my breathing. I don’t move until the tightness in my chest finally passes and my breathing is a touch easier.

“James?” Margret knocks on the door and pokes her head around. “You got some time?”

“Yes.” I nod quickly, eager for a distraction. “You got a patient for me?”

“One better. I need you to pop over to Sweet Noel and take some pictures of the cake she’s making for the party so we can start advertising.”

Sweet Noel. The bakery I’ve passed countless times but never had the guts to enter. Learning that Lily was making a cake for the charity event was a surprise since she never mentioned itwhen I invited her to be my fake date. Then again, we didn’t do much talking after her parents entered the kitchen eager to eat.

The bakery is tucked on the corner of the square with golden lights woven around the wooden sign. Fake snowflakes and frosting dot the windows around countless gorgeous cupcakes, muffins, and colorful sponges I couldn’t even name.

I take a deep breath and push open the door. Soft Christmas music dances through the air, weaving between the mouthwatering scents of bakery and sugar. Cinnamon tickles my nose, alongside peppermint and the cozy warmth of rising cakes.

I’m greeted with a glass counter, behind which sit some of the more intricate cakes and tarts, all with their own handwritten cards telling customers what they are. Tinsel clings to the top of the counters, and a few glittering Santas dangle down from the ceiling.

Christmas is a few weeks away, and this is the first time I’ve felt remotely festive.

Approaching the counter, I tap the silver bell. “Hello?”

“Two seconds!” comes Lily’s voice from the other side of a wooden door.

I’m happy to wait but just as I settle against the counter, Lily bustles through the door. Her dark hair is scooped up on top of her head. Flour dots her cheeks and covers her frilly teddy bear apron, and there are colorful streaks on her fingers that I presume to be icing.

Her smile wavers slightly when we lock eyes. “James?”

“Hi.” I awkwardly wave one hand.

“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

I laugh softly. “Would it be so strange of me to want to buy a cake?”

Lily smooths her hands down her apron, streaking the colors. “No, sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you.”

“Margret asked me to come.”

Lily’s eyes widen. “What? The cake isn’t ready!”

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