Page 38 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

I’m not sure why I chose to pretend I know what I’m doing on the ice, but I want to make sure the day goes well so that she will invite me out again.

And again.

It turns out that shopping for ice skates is rather complicated when you have no idea what you are doing. From the material to the thickness and curve of the blade, I’m completely lost. Shopping for skates turns into a two-hour deep dive into all the different aspects of ice skates and their history. That, in turn, leads to spending far too long watching ice skating tutorial videos that leave me feeling far more confident that I should.

All I need to do is balance, keep my toes slightly forward, and don’t fall. All the people in the videos make it look so easy that I’m sure Lily will be none the wiser as soon as we hit the ice.

When I wander my hotel room to get more wine, I practice balancing on my toes like one of the beginner videos advised, and I’m successful. The wine could be aiding my confidence, but by the time eleven p.m. rolls around, I’m certain I can whisk Lily off her feet on the ice and have her utterly in awe of my skills.

I will do anything, really, to get her to look at me. My heart goes out to her about the bakery break-in, and just a single thought of Mark is enough to raise my irritation, but I will put up with all of that for her.

Lily.

She consumes me. Her face floats in my mind as I drain my third wine glass and contemplate calling in sick tomorrow so I can help her with the bakery.

I can’t. Responsibility looms over me like a shadow, and Margret has my balls in a vise. I can’t rock the boat at work, but maybe I can visit Lily after my shift and see if she needs any more help.

Glass empty, I drag myself forward out of the comfortable nook of pillows I’d created, and I’m about to head to bed when a familiar ringtone fills the air.

My light heart suddenly plummets to my gut as I glance at the screen.

Bernice. My ex-fiancée.

She’s a lovely woman, but we never clicked. I never held much affection for her, never mindlove, but she’s the daughter of one of my mother’s friends and our engagement had been on the cards while I was still in college. It was a match made in rich-blood heaven and we were expected to go along with it because that’s just how things worked.

People as rich as us don’t marry for love. They marry for financial security and reputation.

I contemplate ignoring the call, but unlike my mother, Bernice hasn’t been calling as often.

Fuck it.

“Hello? Bernice?”

“Hi, James.” Her soft voice tickles my ear and my chest tightens.

I haven’t heard from her in six months, ignoring her calls much like my mother's, but she sounds exactly the same as when I left. The single call she made after she found the note calling off the engagement had been short and sweet. Somewhat understanding.

“Bernice.” I lean forward and rest my elbow on my knee. “You’re calling late.”

“I thought it might be easier to catch you at this time,” she says. “I hosted your mother for lunch today, and she had a few choice things to say.”

“Doesn’t she always?”

“She tells me you want to get back together.”

I lower my head and rub my eyes with my fingers. “She’s lying.”

“Is she?” Bernice chuckles softly. “She was pretty convincing. Told me you were acting out because of your father’s death, and that all of this was a cry for help. She said you weredaysaway from a breakdown, and all you wanted was for me to come to you and forgive you.”

“Do you believe her?”

Bernice sighs and remains silent for a long time. Nothing breaks that silence other than the oddly loud ticking of my watch.

“Did you find her?” Bernice asks instead.

“Who?”

“Oh, come on, James. You think a girl can’t tell when her man is in love with another woman? Are you with her right now?”

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