Page 69 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

“Ruby...” Ash starts.

“Don’t.” My voice cracks. “Just... don’t.”

I turn and walk into my office, closing the door behind me. Only then do I let myself slide to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees as the tears finally come.

Outside, I can hear Ash telling the remaining customers we’re closing early. Can hear the scrape of chairs, the murmur of voices, the sound of the door opening and closing multiple times.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Three messages, all at once.

Knox: I know you probably hate me right now, but please let me explain.

Garrett: It wasn’t supposed to be like this. What I feel for you is so real, it’s going to kill me if I lose you.

Dominic: Don’t let him win, angel. Don’t let Marcus take you from us.

I turn off my phone.

Through the door, I hear Ash’s voice.

“Ruby? Everyone’s gone. Do you want me to call Lily?”

I press my forehead to my knees and don’t answer. What would I even say?Hey, remember how you mentioned those blind dates? Turns out they were making plans behind my back on how to best take turns and lie to me. Surprise!

The worst part isn’t even the lies. It’s that even now, my heart still trips over itself, remembering Knox’s gentle hands, Garrett’s playful smile, Dominic’s intensity.

I’m such a fool.

A knock at my door makes me jump.

“Ruby?” Ash again. “I know you probably want to be alone, but... I made coffee. And I may have those chocolate chip cookies you like.”

Despite everything, a wet laugh escapes me. “You’ve been hiding cookies from me?”

“You don’t have to talk. But you don’t have to be alone, either.”

For a long moment, I don’t move. Then, slowly, I reach up and turn the handle.

In moments, Ash is sitting on the floor outside my door, a plate of burned shortbread cookies he made. He lays it beside him and two mugs of coffee that probably have way too much whiskey in them.

“You’re a disaster,” I tell him, voice rough from crying.

“Yeah, well.” He hands me a cookie. “Takes one to know one.”

I take a bite. It’s simultaneously overdone and underdone and possibly the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

“What am I going to do?”

“Right now?” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “You’re going to eat these terrible cookies and drink this terrible coffee and let yourself feel terrible. Tomorrow...” He shrugs. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure it out.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He hands me a coffee. “And hey, look on the bright side—at least none of them turned out to be professional clowns.”

The laugh that bursts out of me is half-sob, but it’s something.

It has to be enough for now.

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