Page 22 of A Very Merry Enemy
My mind is racing. Why can’t Lucas commit to anyone?
Unless…
No. I’m not doing this. I’m not reading into it.
“Yeah. You know…” Bella leans against the counter. “It’s like he’s been waiting for something. Or someone.”
“He needs a miracle,” I snap, harsher than I mean to.
“I’m just saying, you’re both sing?—”
“Lucas and I will never be a thing. He literally hates me. Did you miss the part where he called me pathetic? Told me I was desperate? After everything I’ve been through. That’s not the behavior of a man who’s waiting for me. Putting us together was super cute when Lucas and I were teenagers. It’s not anymore.”
“Did you ever like him?” Wendy asks softly.
“No,” I lie, my throat tight. “Conversation over. No more talking about him. Seriously. It puts me in a bad mood.”
I grab tea lights from storage and place them around the bakery, hoping to brighten the mood. The morning is overcast, with gray clouds hanging low.
Bella looks like she’s going to say something, but Wendy touches her arm. I pretend not to see because this conversation needs to end before I lose my cool. If they all saw how he treated and spoke to me, they’d realize we’re dancing in hell together.
The bell above the door jingles.
“Positions, everyone,” I announce, forcing brightness into my voice. “Let’s sell some cookies.”
As the morning rush begins, Bella’s words circle in my head like vultures.
Lucas hasn’t dated anyone seriously since your engagement was announced.
It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.
He probably just hasn’t found someone who’s worth his time. He was always very picky when it came to women. Or maybe he really is married to the farm. Or maybe, and this is most likely, he’s been too busy being an asshole and scaring everyone away.
“You good?” Wendy asks when there’s a lull before the lunch rush.
“Yeah,” I say, rearranging cookies. “I’m perfect.”
But I’m not. Because now I’m angry at Bella for planting that seed about Lucas’s love life. I’m angry at Lucas for just existing. Not to mention, I’m upset at myself for even caring whether he’s dated or not.
None of it matters.
Not when he looks at me and calls me pathetic. He meant it with every part of his being. I saw it in his eyes.
Whatever we had is dead and buried and rotting.
And it has to stay that way.
Crossing the line with him ruined our friendship. I knew it would. If I could go back in time, I’d undo it all. I’d erase every memory of that summer to have him back. It’s almost funny how every life regret I have includes him.
By the time we’ve sold out, I have flour in places flour should never be. But the register is full and that’s all that matters.
“I’m never eating another cookie again,” Wendy groans, wiping down the fingerprints on the windows.
“You said that last time we worked at the shop,” Bella reminds her.
“Today, I mean it. My stomach hurts from eating so much sugar,” she says.
I grab the broom and start sweeping, pushing crumbs toward the door with aggressive strokes. Through the window, Christmas lights on the tree lot are twinkling to life.
