Page 172 of A Very Merry Enemy
But something’s off.
Holiday sits in my passenger seat, staring out the window. The trophy is in her lap, the oversized check folded carefully beside it. She hasn’t said much since we left the venue. Just quiet responses.
“You sure you’re alright?” I ask, glancing over at her.
“Yeah.” She looks at me and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just processing everything. It’s been a lot.”
“That’s an understatement.” I reach over and take her hand. “Dominic showed his ass, your brother punched him and got arrested, Mary Carter destroyed Dominic’s reputation on live stream, and we won five grand and a trophy. That’s a hell of a day.”
“One for the scrapbook,” she says with a small laugh. “Very eventful.”
I squeeze her hand and she squeezes back.Maybe she’s just exhausted. Maybe the adrenaline is wearing off. Maybe standing up to Dominic in front of hundreds of people took more out of her than she’s letting on.
By the time we pull up to Mawmaw’s house, there are already a dozen cars in the driveway and lining the street. Lights are on in every window. I can already smell food cooking. The truth is, Mawmaw’s been preparing for this celebration all week. She knew we’d win.
Holiday and I walk in together, and the house erupts in cheers. Everyone’s already here. My parents, Hudson and Emma, Jake and Claire, and Colby’s bouncing around like he’s had too much sugar. The twins are with Emma’s dad at their house. Holiday’s family is here, too—her parents, Tricia, and Bethany. And apparently, Sammy just got bailed out because he’s sitting at the kitchen table with an ice pack on his hand, grinning like he won the baking contest.
“The champions!” Mawmaw announces, pulling Holiday and me into a double hug. “I’m so proud of you both!”
“Thanks, Mawmaw,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“Come on, come on. I made all your favorites. We’re celebrating properly tonight.”
The next hour consists of us sitting around the table eating Mawmaw’s famous fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, mac and cheese, and three different pies. Our family is eating and laughing and retelling stories from the past. Sammy is showing off his bruised knuckles like they’re battle scars.
“Worth it,” he keeps saying. “Totally worth it.”
Holiday’s dad claps him on the shoulder. “You did good, son. That bastard had it coming.”
I watch Holiday from across the room as she chats with Emma, who’s recovering from giving birth two weeks ago.
Holiday is smiling, hugging people, and accepting congratulations, but I notice the way she’s being a little too careful. Her smile is just a fraction too forced.
After about an hour, she catches my eye and mouthsCan we talk?
I nod, and she gestures toward the back door. We slip out while everyone’s distracted by Colby trying to steal a third piece of pie.
The back porch is exactly how I remember it. String lights hanging from the eaves, the old porch swing Mawmaw refuses to replace, and hanging right above the steps—mistletoe. My grandma has hung that mistletoe there every Christmas for as long as I can remember.
It’s where Holiday and I first kissed when we were sixteen. I used the mistletoe as an excuse. She did, too. I kissed her before I could overthink it. That was the moment everything changed between us.
Now, we’re standing in the exact same spot, fifteen years later, and everything’s about to change again. I can feel it in my bones.
“Hey,” I say softly, pulling her close. “Talk to me.”
She looks up at me and I can see tears threatening. “I needed a minute with just you.”
“You’ve got me.” I cup her face in my hands. “Always.”
Then I kiss her. Right there under the mistletoe, where it all started. She kisses me back, and it’s sweet and desperate and feels like something I can’t quite name.
When we pull apart, she’s crying.
“What’s wrong?”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper that’s been folded. Her hands are shaking as she hands it to me.
“Please read it before you say anything.”
