Page 37 of A Very Merry Enemy
“So predictable. Something gets hard, you run. How long did that engagement last, anyway? Three years? Right on time. That’s when you start getting bored and need something more exciting in your relationships.” I shake my head. “That’s what we call a cycle.”
“You don’t want to talk about this.”
“After all this time, you’re still a red flag.”
She grabs a bag of flour and slams it on the counter so hard, a cloud of white explodes everywhere. It coats her sweatshirt, dusts her hair, and settles on both of us like snow.
“Red is still your favorite color,” she says, unamused.
I cough, waving flour out of my face. “Real mature, HoHo.”
“Stop bringing up my personal life like you have any right to know about it.”
“It’s hard when we’re forced together and?—”
“We were forced together by your manipulative grandmother. That doesn’t give you the right to throw my failed engagement in my face. There, I said it. You’re right. Is that what you want?”
I brush flour off my flannel. “Did you call it off, or did he? That’s the answer I couldn’t ever get out of anyone.”
Her hands curl into fists. “None of your damn business.”
“I’ll eventually find out.” I move closer. “Bet it was you.”
“Don’t you even,” she snaps with venom in her voice. “Why haven’t you dated anyone in a few years? What’s your excuse?”
I freeze. “That’s different.”
“Heard you started cycling through women when you learned I got engaged.”
“I absolutely did no?—”
“No?” She steps forward, closing the distance between us. “Small town, remember? You may know details about me, but trust me, I’ve heard so much about you, too. Grow up, Lucas.”
The silence stretches.
“You know what,” I finally say, my voice rough. “You don’t get to act like I’m the bad guy for protecting myself.”
“Protecting yourself? You ghosted me, Lucas. You owed me an explanation.”
“I told you if you started dating someone else, I’d know you were done.”
The air between us crackles with years of unresolved hurt.
I take a step closer. “Then you used me as your fuck toy when you came home for the holidays.”
“And? You enjoyed fucking me, knowing I was with someone else. You knew I was weak for you, and you never once told me no. Actually, I recall us promising to secretly spend every Christmas together.” She blinks at me, not giving a damn. “Maybe I should tell everyone the truth.”
“You’re so damn dense. Even now.”
She backs away from that conversation. It’s clear she’s not ready to discuss it yet.
“I think we should make a sea salt caramel chocolate chip cookie. Elevated but familiar,” I say, needing to change the topic so we can be done and leave.
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. “I’m in charge of presentation and technique.”
“And I’m in charge of?—”
“This isn’t your area of expertise. Remember, you’re here because you want to be,” she says.
