Page 4 of True North

The glittering disco balls twirl overhead. Lou holds onto me as we sway on the dance floor. It takes everything I have to not kiss her in the middle of her entire class. Teachers watching. Friends milling about.

“Thank you for coming,” Lou whispers in my ear as she leans into me.

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

She leans back with a look I can’t read and spins out of my hold. Snatching up my hand, she drags me through the crowd and out the gymnasium doors. The cool night air is an instant relief after the stuffy prom space. Lou comes to a stop on the sidewalk outside and spins back.

“There is something I want,” she says, tilting her head. She swings our hands together between us. She’s cute when she’s coy. I pull her into my chest, and she giggles, looking up at me.

“What is it?”

She cups my face in both her hands, pulling my mouth to hers. Every cell in my body responds to her touch, her kiss. I want her, and she opens for me. Blood rushes south. I grip her face, sliding my hands into her hair behind her neck.

A soft sound slips between us, and she pulls back.

Heart racing, my gaze homes in on hers. It’s hungry. Full of adoration and love. The way she always looks at me.

I close my eyes, swallowing hard. I wrap my fingers around hers, still on my face, and lower them. I sink to one knee, rubbing my thumbs over the back of her hands. Her brows drop, mouth agape.

“Ha—”

“Louisa May Masters, will you marry me?”

ChapterOne

LOUISA

TEN YEARS LATER...

“Cut! Cut! Urgh, jeez, Brittany, pull yourself together.” Annoyance curdles to shallow anger on our producer’s face as our midday culinary anchor drops yet another bowl of batter, covering the floor. “Louisa!”

I pull the headset from my head and hug the clipboard to my chest as I rush to his side. “Yes, Marty?”

“Either that woman possesses the tactile skills of a toddler, or you ordered the wrong bowls.”

I cringe.

It’s not the bowls.

“Maybe she needs a break?” I ask in soft words, preparing to be in the firing line next. We’ve been at this Christmas baking segment for four hours. Britt was distraught when she got here; something about her boyfriend shipping out. Poor girl, that’s got to hurt.

“Nope, I’m done waiting for this. We don’t have the timeline to start again. Improvise.” He flings a hand toward set.

“Improvise?” I barely let the word past my lips.

“Yeah, where you make shit up. Like half the people watching this crappy show are going to know the fucking difference. Give her a clean bowl. Go again!”

Shit.

I replace the headset and scurry onto set. Britt is on her hands and knees, tears scoring lines down her TV makeup. I drop to my knees to help. After four years of college and culinary school, my dreams of being in her position aren’t looking as appealing as they once did.Get a double major, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.Goddamn liars, the lot of them. I’ll never land the chance to anchor a flea circus, let alone be the next Julia Child.

“Thanks, Lou. You don’t have to... On a scale of one toyou’re fired, how angry is Marty?”

“He’ll cool off. Are you okay?” I rest on my heels, and she does the same.

“I’ll never get used to Toby leaving for tour.” She swipes at her now-bleeding mascara, not doing herself any favors.

“Hey, hey. He’ll be okay. I’m sure.”

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