Page 43 of A Very Merry Enemy
Lucas
See you next week, Peaches.
Holiday
Call me that again and I’m poisoning you.
Lucas
Great. Can you do that soon? Put me out of my misery.
I love the smiley at the end. It’s a nice touch.
I start the truck, but before I flick on the lights, Holiday walks out of the bakery. She gets in her car and just sits there.
I watch as she leans forward, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel.
All this time, I’ve been so focused on my own anger; I never considered that maybe she’s actually struggling.
She starts her car, and the engine rumbles to life, but she doesn’t move. Holiday just sits there like she’s gathering the strength to drive home.
I should leave. Should get out of here before she sees me watching her.
But I can’t make myself move.
Finally, Holiday lifts her head and wipes her eyes. She puts the car in reverse and pulls away.
I wait until her taillights disappear down the drive before I follow.
The whole way home, all I can think about is her hand on mine. How natural it felt before we both remembered we hate each other.
I spent fifteen years trying to forget Holiday Patterson.
Five weeks of this, and I’m either going to break her or break myself trying.
And I can’t decide which one pisses me off more.
CHAPTER 9
HOLIDAY
I’ve barely slept all week.
Every time I’ve closed my eyes, I see the look on Lucas’s face when I told him he reminded me of my ex-fiancé.
The way you’re acting reminds me of him.
The words echo in my head on repeat.
I said them, hoping he’d understand what I went through, even if the words were cruel. As I lie in bed at four in the morning, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Lucas helped me put up when we were sixteen, I think about my words. He needed to hear them, even if they were the ugly truth.
My phone sits on the nightstand. There are no texts from Lucas. Not that I expected any. He may have unblocked my number so we could discuss our baking sessions, but he hasn’t gone out of his way to reach out to me. He won’t.
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water wake me up. By five, I’m dressed and driving to the bakery, the mid-November air biting at my skin. I can’t believe it’s already Saturday.
The week has passed by in a blur of sold-out cookie trays and curious customers trying to get details about the new romance in Merryville.
Monday, I saw Lucas’s truck in the parking lot when I arrived. My stomach did a stupid flip, but he was nowhere near the bakery. It was hard to focus on my work. Tuesday, he walked past the bakery windows twice. Both times, our eyes met through the windows. I didn’t look away first; he always did. Wednesday, Bella asked if everything was okay between us because she could feel the tension. Thursday, I caught him watching me from across the parking lot while I loaded cookies into a customer’s car. When I looked up and met his eyes, he didn’t turn away. We stared at each other for a long moment before I broke contact and walked back into the bakery. Friday, I didn’t see him at all. The bakery was slammed with pre-Thanksgiving orders, and I didn’t have time to think about anything.
