Page 38 of A Very Merry Enemy
“Maybe,” I say, moving closer, backing her against the counter, “you could quit. Make this easier for everyone.”
Her chin lifts as her back touches the surface. “Won’t be me who quits.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise. You won’t be able to handle me for five weeks.”
Something flashes in her eyes—pure anger. “You’ll have to do more than showing up late and trying to use my past against me.”
She steps forward, closing the distance. We’re toe to toe now, and I can smell vanilla and sugar on her skin. The same scent she wore when we were teenagers.
“I plan on making this a living hell for you, too.”
The words hang between us. “It already is,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Love to hear it.”
The music shifts to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” At one point in our lives, it was our song. The one we used to dance to outside my truck on a back lot away from everything, her head on my shoulder, both of us pretending we had forever.
When she hears it, her eyes soften, but she turns the music off.
“Jerk,” she mutters, turning away.
I let it slide. Mostly because she’s right.
Holiday starts measuring flour and aggressively slams it into a mixing bowl. Another cloud explodes over the counter, coating us both again.
“You’re making a mess.”
“Not like you’re going to clean it up.”
“You’re right about that.”
She spins around, wooden spoon in hand like a weapon. “Do you want to do this? Because I can walk out right now.”
“Please do. Save us both the trouble,” I say, lifting my hand toward the door. “I’ll lock up.”
“No.” She jabs the spoon toward me. “I need this money, and I’m going to earn it. With or without your cooperation. You can stand there and look pretty for all I care.”
“What do you need five thousand dollars for? Plane ticket back to Paris?”
Her nostrils flare. “Again, that’s none of your business.”
“What makes you desperate enough to put up with me for five weeks?”
Something flickers across her face, and she exhales. “New York.”
“What?”
“The money would cover moving expenses and first month’s rent.” She says it like she’s confessing something. “I need to win this. Then I can grant you your wish and disappear like you’ve wanted since I returned.”
“Yes!” I do a mock celebration. “Thank you!”
New York. I knew she was already planning her escape.
“Must be real nice,” I say, my voice without any emotion. “Always going somewhere else. Some new city where you don’t have to deal with your past.”
