Page 48 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“It’s really not like that,” I object. Although, in all honesty, I’m not entirely sure what it’s like anymore. Lucy and I haven’t had a single civil conversation, yet she’s all I can think about.
“She always gives me a hard time,” I add.
“You ever consider you’re into herbecauseshe gives you a hard time?” Giovanni says.
“Rachelle gave me a hard time too.”
Giovanni nearly spits out his beer because he started laughing mid-sip. Choking, he says, “She gave everyone a hard time.”
“Did you hear what she did at The Haven?” Nico adds.
I sigh. “Yes, Giovanni and I discussed that the other night.”
“Wren Wilde’s hot,” Nico declares, waggling his eyebrows. “Did you discussthat?”
“You think everyone’s hot, dumbass,” Giovanni says, cuffing him playfully.
“Well, she is. Anyone would think she’s hot. It’s factual—and a compliment.”
“Not everyone seems to think that’s a compliment,” I interject without intending to, and my brothers exchange another of thosesignificant looks.
“I think Enzo’s obsessed with Lucy because she’s the only woman who hasn’t fallen all over herself to impress him,” Giovanni says, looking pretty proud of himself.
“So we’re back to me, huh? Can’t we give Nico some more shit about his crush on the lady who runs The Haven?”
Nico waves this off. “Oh, she’s got her hands full. I’ve heard she’s dating all three Hawthorne brothers.”
I laugh. “Sounds like a load of Lady Lovehearts bullshit.”
“You mean Lovewatch,” Giovanni says. “And yes, that it does. Welcome back to Hideaway Harbor, brother. Where you’ll freeze your tits off and drown in gossip.”
“Yeah, it’s good to be home,” I deadpan.
But the thing is, in this moment, sitting with my brothers, itisgood to be home. The only thing missing is Aria—and the confidence, now lost, that our grandmother, despite being old, is going to live forever.
My brothers leave after half an hour of shooting the shit, but I stay by the window, nursing my one and only beer, watching until all of the guests leave Love at First Sip. Still no sign of Lucy. It’s almost eight and dark other than the glowing Christmas lights strung up around town square, the glowing tree at its center, and the little stalls for the Christmas market.
The café looks empty, but I still haven’t seen Lucy leave, so I remain stationed at the window, lost in thought.
“You must really enjoy this view of the tree,” a woman says from behind me, her voice sultry. I turn to look at her. She’s pretty, with long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I’d have known she was a tourist even if she weren’t wearing a Larry the Lobstah hoodie sweatshirt that says,Want to play hide the lobster?
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“There’s an even better view from my bedroom.” She laughs, pressing a hand to her chest. “I can’t believe I said that.But my friends and I are betting on who can come up with the worst pickup line, and I like to win.”
“So do I,” I say with a smile, my gaze traveling across the square again. It’s overcast and snowing a little, enough to obstruct my view of the shop fronts across the street. But I’ll know when Lucy leaves because the coat she usually wears is a bright lobster red. No way I’ll miss that.
“So what do you say?”
It takes me a moment to remember I’m midconversation with someone. I turn back to the blonde woman, raising my eyebrows. “I haven’t heard their pickup lines, so I’m afraid I can’t judge.”
“That’s not the contest.” She leans closer in a clear invitation. “The aim of the contest is to find a bad line that works.”
It would be easy to go back to her room with her, and maybe it would lessen this horrible desire that’s been eating away at me since that night on the bridge—a need that’s only intensified with every trick Lucy pulls. Every time we catch a glimpse of each other. But I’m not even tempted.
And when I see a flash of red at the door of Love at First Sip, I practically lunge out of my chair.
“Sorry,” I say over my shoulder. “But I have somewhere to be. Good luck with everything.”
