Page 158 of A Very Merry Enemy
Holiday shifts in her sleep and makes this small sound that I find so damn adorable. Last night was exactly what she needed. What we both needed. I made sure she forgot about everything except us. She fell asleep smiling, wrapped around me, and seemed like she was finally at peace.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, and her eyes flutter open.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning.” Her voice is soft. She tilts her head back to look at me. “What time is it?”
“Five thirty. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“It’s contest day,” she says.
“Sure is,” I confirm. “You ready?”
“I think so.” She pushes up on one elbow to look at me. “Are you ready?”
“Hell yeah. Ready to get this over with so I can worship you properly.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “But I’m also very excited.”
She studies my face for a long moment. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For last night. For reminding me why we’re doing this.” She leans down and kisses me softly. “Easy peasy.”
She smiles against my mouth and kisses me again, deeper this time. My hand slides into her hair, and I’m about two seconds from saying screw the contest when she pulls back.
“We should get ready,” she says, but she’s grinning.
“Probably. But you’re so damn tempting.”
“That’s what you keep saying,” she replies.
We get up and move through our morning routine together. We shower together to save water, then I make coffee while she gets dressed. By six thirty, we’re both ready and standing in my kitchen, trying to eat breakfast.
Holiday picks at the toast I made her, managing maybe three bites before pushing the plate away.
“I can’t,” she says, sipping her coffee. “My stomach is in knots.”
I eat and watch her tap her fingers against the counter as she scrolls through her phone. She’s wearing dark red jeans and a festive sweater with Christmas trees on the front. Her hair is pulled back into a braid, and she’s wearing her signature red lipstick. She looks beautiful and stressed but also determined.
“Hey,” I say, reaching across the counter to take her hand. “We’ve got this.”
“I know. I just—” She stops and takes a breath. “What if I freeze up?”
“You won’t.” I squeeze her hand. “Remember why you’re doing this. Not for him. Not for the panel. For you. For us.”
“For us,” she repeats. Something in her expression shifts. The fear doesn’t disappear but it’s joined by determination now. “You’re right. This is our moment.”
“Damn right it is.”
We finish our coffee and load the supplies into my truck. The ingredients are already measured and packed in coolers. Everything is organized and ready to go. By seven fifteen, we’re on the road.
The drive to the venue takes thirty minutes with the traffic. The event is being held outside the Merryville Community Center, the same place where the meeting was held weeks ago. Except now, the parking lot is packed with cars, news vans, and people setting up camera equipment.
“Holy shit.” Holiday breathes as I park. “This is bigger than I thought.”
“I can’t believe they’re live streaming it,” I say.
“The whole world is watching,” she whispers.
