Page 163 of A Very Merry Enemy
“It’s too late now,” Holiday says. “I don’t care what you think anymore.”
Something flickers in his expression. Regret? Anger? I can’t tell.
“Are you sure?” He leans against the edge of our station, too casual. Too familiar. “Or is he just making you believe that?”
“Don’t,” Holiday warns.
“I made you who you are,” Dominic continues, his voice dropping lower. “Everything you know, everything you do is because I gave you that opportunity.”
Holiday bursts into laughter, but she’s laughingathim. In front of everyone. And I just stand back and let her give him exactly what he deserves. “That’s hilarious. I was baking and winning competitions when I was a literal child. Try to steal someone else’s credit, not mine.”
His jaw clenches. “We had something special.”
“We had nothing.” Holiday’s voice is steady, strong. “You had control. You had someone to manipulate and use. That’s not love, Dominic. That’sabuse.”
The word hangs in the air between them. Around us, I can feel people watching, listening. I glance up at the TV and see that the cameras are focused on us. Did they catchevery word?
“How dare you—” Dominic starts.
“Chef Laurent.” Patty Morrison is suddenly there, her voice firm but professional. “You need to return to the judging table. This isinappropriate.”
“I’m observing their technique,” Dominic says, but his mask is cracking. “As a judge.”
“You’re harassing a contestant. You’re wearing a microphone,” Patty tells him, pointing to the label on his chef coat. “Return to the table.Now.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to argue. His hands are clenched at his sides, his face as red as a tomato. He looks at Holiday like she’s something he lost and desperately wants back.
“This isn’t over,” he warns.
“Yes, it is,” Holiday says.
He walks back to the judging table, but I can see him seething. Marcus and Thomas are talking to him in low voices, clearly addressing what just happened. Mary is watching with concern.
“You okay?” I ask Holiday.
“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath and grins. “All is well in the world.”
“Yes, it is.”
The timer goes off, which means our ice cream is ready.
We work together to assemble everything. I pull the cookie bars from the fridge and they’re perfectly set. Holiday cuts them into perfect fat squares. I arrange them on the plates, then she scoops the ice cream, making sure each portion is identical.
We drizzle a bit of extra fudge sauce for presentation. She adds a sprinkle of sea salt on top.
We’re done with forty-five minutes to spare.
“Ready to turn it in?” Holiday asks.
“Let’s do this.”
We carry our plates carefully to the judging table. All five members of the panel stop what they’re doing to watch us approach.
“Team Jolly Holiday,” Mayor Thompson announces into the microphone. “First team to complete their dessert!”
The crowd applauds.
We set our five plates down in front of the panel. Patty, Marcus, Mary, and Thomas all look pleased and interested. Dominic’s expression is unreadable.
