Page 112 of A Very Merry Enemy
She’s wearing a burgundy dress that should be illegal. It hugs every curve, with a neckline that shows off her collarbones and the graceful line of her neck. Her hair falls in waves past her shoulders, styled in a way that’s both elegant and effortless. She’s wearing just enough makeup to make her blue eyes look impossibly bright, and her lips are painted the same deep red she wore Monday night.
She looks like every fantasy I’ve had come to life.
Her parents step out of the carriage behind her, her mom adjusting her shawl, and her dad offering his arm. But I barely register them. All I can see is Holiday as she looks around at the transformed farm, her eyes wide, a small smile playing on her lips.
Then she looks up and our eyes meet across the distance.
Everything else disappears.
Guests walk past me as music floats from the tent. The photographer calls out instructions somewhere to my left. Then I think I hear Emma say something to Hudson behind me.
It’s just me and Holiday, and five days of separation that suddenly feels like an eternity.
She stops walking. I watch her breath catch, watch her hand come up to touch her chest, watch color rise in her cheeks even from here.
And I know. In that instant, I know that whatever happens between us, we’ll be okay. She’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world.
Around us, I’m vaguely aware that people have noticed us. That guests are turning to look, and I hear the whispers getting louder. This moment is being watched and will likely end up on the internet by tomorrow.
But I don’t care.
She starts walking toward me, her heels clicking softly on the wooden pathway. Her parents follow behind, but her eyes never leave mine.
I can see the pulse jumping in her throat now. I can see she’s wearing the necklace I gave to her for her birthday when we were seventeen. It’s a simple silver star that I saved up for weeks to buy. She kept it.
Suddenly, she’s ten feet away, then five.
When she’s standing right in front of me, I can see the darker flecks of blue in her eyes and count every freckle on her face that I’ve memorized a thousand times.
“Hi,” she says, and her voice is soft.
“Hi.” It comes out rougher than I intended. “You look…”
I can’t finish the sentence because no words can describe her.
“You too.” Her eyes slide over me, taking in the way the suitfits, and I watch her swallow hard. “Really good. Like, unfairly good.”
“Unfairly?”
“You’ll be the death of me.” She takes a breath, and I can see her trying to compose herself, trying to remember that we’re supposed to be keeping a distance. “How am I supposed to act casual when you look like that?”
I make a face. “Are you kidding me? I should ask you the same thing.”
We stand there, staring at each other, while people move around us. At least a dozen people have stopped what they’re doing to watch us. Phones are definitely out.
Someone clears their throat nearby, but neither of us looks away from the other.
“I missed you,” she says, and my chest feels like it’s cracking open.
“Missed you, too, Peaches.” I want to touch her and pull her against me. I don’t know if I’ll ever let go. I’m tempted to cup her face and kiss her until neither of us can think straight.
“Holiday—”
“Lucas!” Jake’s voice cuts through the moment. “We need to start lining up. Ceremony’s in ten minutes.”
Reality crashes back in, and I know I need to go.
But I don’t want to.
