Page 161 of A Very Merry Enemy
But we’re good. We’re solid. We’re in our element.
“How’s it looking?” Holiday asks, peeking over my shoulder at the shortbread.
“The best batch we’ve made. How’s the chocolate?”
“Almost there.” She stirs carefully. “Another minute.”
I slide the shortbread onto the table next to her so she can easily pour the fudge on top.
Holiday hums while she works. It’s soft, almost unconscious, but I hear it. A grin touches my lips and she smiles wide.
“What?” she whispers.
Suddenly, we’re no longer in this tent, but we’re teenagers baking in Mawmaw’s kitchen.
“You’re humming,” I say.
She looks over at me, surprised. “Am I?”
A smile breaks across her face. “I didn’t even realize.”
“That’s how I know you’re happy.” I lean in close enough so only she can hear me over the music. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
She blushes. “You better stop.”
“Never.” I steal a quick kiss, right there under the mistletoe hanging above our station. The crowd goes wild, cheering and chanting our team name.
“Jolly Holiday! Jolly Holiday! Jolly Holiday!”
“Lucas!” Holiday laughs, swatting at me. “We’re being watched!”
“Good. Let ’em see.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smirking as she goes back to stirring the chocolate. When it’s done, she adds the nuts. The joy radiating from her is contagious.
This is exactly what I wanted for her, for us. I wanted to do this together and have fun. I wanted her to reclaim the joy that Dominic stole from her in Paris.
“Fudge is done!” Holiday announces, doing a little victory dance as she pours it on top of the shortbread. I can’t help but laugh as we slide our pans into the fridge to let the pecan fudge with the sea salt topping cool.
Around us, everyone seems frantic, but we’re having the time of our lives.
This is what Christmas should feel like. Joy. Love. Partnership. Magic.
And experiencing this Holiday is everything.
CHAPTER 33
LUCAS
The first hour passes in a blur of precision and laughter.
Once our pans of cookies are in the fridge setting, I relax. Everything is going exactly according to plan. Around us, other teams are starting to stress. Someone’s oven isn’t heating properly. Another team realizes they forgot a key ingredient. Henry and his sister are bickering about timing. But Holiday and I are in perfect sync.
“Ninety minutes left!” the mayor calls out.
“Time to make the ice cream,” Holiday says, checking her watch.
“Almost.” I grab her hand and pull her away from the prep table. “First, we celebrate.”
