Page 62 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
Chapter 24
Nic
“We wish you a merry autumn,” Lauren sings to the tune of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as we trudge through town, a swing in her step and a bright smile on her face.
It’s the first time I’ve been back in town since Jay and Marissa appeared. Amanda vowed to keep an eye on her website inquiries herself. Meanwhile Lauren and I had a grand time hanging out with my cats, baking more autumn treats, and rewatchingGilmore Girls. Although Lauren always bid her farewell when Henry came over to visit because, as she said, “You two are too sweet. I’ll get cavities.”
But Kieran assured me he hasn’t seen either of them in town for the past few days, and now here we are.
A part of me wonders if he only said that because he’s sick of bringing me coffee, instead of having all of us meet up at Caleb’s. But whenever he complained about it, either Lauren or I put a cat in his lap. That never failed to make him forget about his dissatisfaction at having to be our personal coffee-bringer.
Caleb’s coffee might have been too strong for Lauren and me when we first drank it, but now? We can’t imagine life without it.
And now we’re back in town, coffee in hand, because Kieran told us today is the autumn fair meet up, and he ordered us here to help.
“The decorations definitely need a female touch, so I signed you up,” he’d said, which didn’t really leave any option to say no. And despite the questionable work distribution, Lauren and I decided to put our all into it.
Over the past few days, we put our heads together, checked what kind of decorations were available and could be quickly delivered, then made a list of everything we wanted to buy.
Both of us were more than ready to buy them ourselves and declare the decoration a contribution to the community. But whichever committee organizes the autumn fair decided to wave them through as expenses.
Which didn’t stop us from making a trip to the nearest store to buy even more ourselves. Once we started, there was no limit—whatever we found cute went into the cart. And whatever we don’t use for the autumn fair will get put up at one of our houses.
I’m pretty sure by the time we’re done, Wayward Hollow will look like an autumn wonderland. Visitors will have no choice but to give in to the autumn vibes. It’s going to be awesome.
“Do you think they really got the scarecrows?” I ask Lauren, but she only answers with a giggle and points to the other side of the street where a whole army of scarecrows is awaiting us.
“They weren’t kidding,” she laughs and links her arm with mine to cross the street. “We could stage a famous battle with those.”
“Or Caesar’s assassination?” I think aloud, tapping my chin. “‘Et tu, Brute’ strangely fits my life.”
“God, I love that you can joke about it already,” Lauren says, relieved, and gives my arm squeeze. “I have no idea what I would do if you were one of those people who didn’t deal with trauma through humor.”
“Nic! Lauren!” Kieran waves at us from afar. He’s wearing a red and black lumberjack shirt and has a small hay bale flung over his shoulder. Romanticizing this fall was Lauren’s and my mission, but he’s definitely a step ahead of us, at least outfit wise.
“Am I tripping or is that kind of hot?” Lauren whispers while we wave back at him and I can’t help but laugh.
“I think you’re tripping, but then again, you also think that black-and-white fish fromFinding Nemois hot.”
“And many others share that opinion. Don’t discriminate,” she playfully scolds me, and we make our way to Kieran.
We barely take two steps when I suddenly hear the sharp click of heels on asphalt behind me, and my blood freezes in my veins.
Because I know who it is. I don’t even need to turn around. There is only one person who would wear fucking heels in a town like Wayward Hollow, and sadly, we share genetics. God damn it.
“Nicola! Oh my God, there you are!”
I freeze. That sugary sweet voice she uses when strangers are around drips down my spine, like scalding hot caramel. Fuck. I thought she was gone.
Lauren tightens her arm around mine, shooting me a worried glance, and I give her a reassuring smile. I take a deep breath, then square my shoulders and turn around slowly.
There she is.
Marissa. Dressed as if she jumped out of a damned autumn fashion magazine. Every single hair of her blonde bob lies perfectly, and there’s not one wrinkle in her designer outfit. She’s completely out of place here, where everyone is dressed for manual labor. She’s wearing that overly friendly, disingenuous smile that has gotten her everything in life—the one I’ve dreamed about wiping off her face for years.
“Wow,” she says, walking up to me as though nothing ever happened between us. The way she smiles, you’d think we were the best of friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while and just ran into each other by chance. “I mean, look at you. Small-town life becomes you. I almost didn’t recognize you at first. You”—she makes a broad gesture at me—“look so relaxed. You really stopped trying, and it totally works on you.”
Lauren builds herself up next to me, clearing her throat, but I beat her to an answer. It’s one of the more harmless backhanded compliments she’s given me, and over the years, I’ve learned that ignoring her jabs will rile her up more than any reply could.
