Chapter 29 #2
I want to scream. I want to flip the table over.
I want to tell my mother that Dominic Laurent doesn’t deserve her recipes, doesn’t deserve her kindness, doesn’t deserve to be sitting in our home, pretending to be a decent human being.
But I sit there, fork clenched in my fist, and suffer through dessert while Dominic charms my parents with stories from Paris.
He’s funny and gracious—everything he was when we first met.
Everything he stopped being once he had me under his control.
My father laughs at his jokes. My mother asks about his bakery. They’re completely enchanted by him and it makes me sick.
Finally, my father glances up at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late. We should probably let you get back to the inn, Dominic.”
“Of course.” Dominic stands. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. It’s been a true pleasure.”
“Pleasure was ours,” my dad says. “You’re welcome anytime.”
Over my dead body.
Dominic looks at me. “Holiday, would you walk me out? I’d love a moment to speak with you privately.”
“Oh, I would love to,” I say, the wine streaming through my system.
We step out onto the front porch, and I immediately put distance between us. The night has turned frigid, and I wrap my arms around myself.
“Now I see why you always wanted to visit home,” Dominic says, looking out at the land. “Lovely place. Merryville is wonderful. Very…quaint.”
“Cut the shit, Dominic. What do you want?”
“Such ugly language for a pretty girl.” His face glows in the Christmas lights. “I wanted to see you. Talk to you. Alone. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“With your lumberjack.” It’s not a question. “I’ve seen the pictures. The articles. You and Lucas Jolly, small-town sweethearts.” His voice drips with condescension. “Is this really what you want? To throw away everything we built for some provincial nobody?”
“Don’t talk about him like that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.” He steps closer, and I take a step back.
“Holiday, please. I came here to apologize. To make things right between us. I’ve made mistakes, I know that.
But we can fix this. We can start over. Come back to Paris with me.
I’ll help you open your own bakery. I’ll give you everything you and your talent deserve. ”
“No.”
“No?”
“Fuck no, Dominic. What you did to me can’t be fixed. There is no us anymore. There never really was, though, was there? It was always just you using me and calling it love.”
His expression hardens. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair? I don’t think you have the right to speak about fairness.” I laugh bitterly. “You took credit for my work. You made me feel worthless unless I was serving your ambitions. That’s not love. That’s exploitation.”
“I gave you a stage to test your recipes,” he says, his voice rising. “Everything you have is because of me. I gave you Paris. I gave you a career. I gave you opportunities you never would have had otherwise.”
“You took everything!” The words explode out of me.
“You took my confidence, my sense of self, my connection to my family. You isolated me and controlled me and made me doubt my own talent. And now you have the audacity to come to my parents’ house and play the charming ex-boyfriend? What is wrong with you?”
“I love you,” he says, and for a moment, he almost sounds sincere. “I’ve always loved you. I know I didn’t show it all the time, but—”
“Love?” I shake my head. “You don’t know what love is.”
He reaches for me then, grabbing my arms and trying to pull me against him. “Holiday, please. Just give me another chance. Let me prove—”
Instinct takes over.
I shove him away from me, and he stumbles backward, losing his balance. His expensive shoes slip on the porch steps, and he tumbles down, landing on his ass on the front lawn.
For a second, I just stare at him, not realizing how much strength I have.
The front door opens and my mother appears. “Holiday? Is everything okay out here?”
I don’t take my eyes off Dominic. “Everything’s fine, Mom. Just telling Dominic goodbye.”
“Oh. Well…don’t stay out too long, sweetheart. It’s getting cold.”
The door closes, and I move to the edge of the porch.
Dominic stands slowly, brushing grass and dirt off his expensive slacks. “You’ve changed.”
“No, I haven’t. I just remembered who I am.”
“This isn’t you, Holiday. This violence, this anger—”
“Leave me alone, Dominic.” My voice is cold. “Go back to Paris and forget about me.”
“Forgetting you is impossible.” His voice cracks. “And if you don’t stop this charade with that tree farmer, I’ll make sure everyone knows about everything.”
Ice floods my veins. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be. After everything you did. I’ll make sure everyone sees you for who you really are.
Every intimate moment. Everything we did together.
Your precious small-town reputation will be destroyed.
Your parents will never look at you the same way.
” He straightens his jacket. “You think you can just walk away from me? From everything we built? I made you, Holiday. I can destroy you just as easily.”
For a moment, fear grips me so tightly, I can’t breathe. I’d forgotten about the videos he’d recorded of us. He still has them all—the ones I knew about, the ones I didn’t consent to, but he promised they were just for us.
If those videos get out, if anyone in Merryville sees them, I’m done. My parents would be devastated. The town would never look at me the same way. My career would be over. And Lucas—
Lucas. How do I even begin to explain this to him?
Before I spiral, something shifts inside me. The fear burns away, replaced by anger.
“You’re right,” I say. “You could release our most private moments. You could try to humiliate me, embarrass my family, destroy whatever reputation I have left after you tried to ruin me, but—”
“Then you understand—”
“But here’s what you’re forgetting, Dominic.
You stole my recipes. And sure, we have an NDA.
” I take a step closer to him. “But if you release those recordings, I’ll tell everyone and show proof that your Michelin star was earned with my recipes.
How would the world like to know your entire empire was built on stolen work from southern trash? ”
His face goes pale.
“Oh, and there’s more,” I continue, my voice getting stronger. “Releasing those videos without my consent is illegal. Revenge porn laws exist in the US, Dominic. You will face criminal charges, and I will take you for everything you’re worth.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Try me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Go ahead. Just know, I will take you to the pits of hell with me. I will tell every food critic, every journalist, every chef who respects you that you’re a thief and a fraud.
I will make sure your legacy is as stained as mine.
And then I’ll press charges and take you to court. You do not want this fight with me.”
He’s shaking now, his mask of confidence shattered.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Your biggest mistake. I’m not that timid girl you controlled in Paris anymore. I won’t let you threaten me or manipulate me or use my past against me.” I turn toward the house. “So leave me alone. After Saturday’s contest, go back to Paris and forget I exist.”
“And if I don’t?”
I look back at him over my shoulder. “Then I’ll have the satisfaction of taking you down with me.”
“Holiday. I don’t want to do this. You’re the love of my life.”
“No, I’m not. No one would treat the love of their life the way you’ve treated me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s too late,” I tell him, walking up the porch steps and into the house without looking back. My whole body shakes with adrenaline and anger and something that feels almost like freedom.
Inside, I lean against the closed door, trying to catch my breath. My parents are in the living room with the TV on, pretending they didn’t just witness whatever that was through the window.
“Everything all right, honey?” my mother calls.
“Fine,” I manage. “Dominic’s leaving.”
“He seemed like such a nice young man.”
I don’t have the energy to explain. I mumble something about being tired and head upstairs to my childhood bedroom.
Once the door is closed, I sink onto the edge of my bed and let the reality of what just happened wash over me. Dominic has those videos and he could release them at any moment. He could destroy my image after destroying my career.
But I called his bluff.
I threatened him right back.
And for the first time in years, I didn’t let him win.
I’m no longer a pushover.
My hands are still shaking as I pull out my phone.
Holiday
Dominic was at my house and joined me and my parents for dinner. Afterward, we had words. I’m so pissed I can’t see straight.
His response comes within seconds.
Lucas
Are you okay?
Holiday
I’m fine. I pushed him off the porch.
Lucas
You what?
Holiday
Long story. Can you come over? We need to talk.
Lucas
On my way.
I stare at my phone, at Lucas’s name on the screen, and I feel tears prick at my eyes. He’s coming. He’ll be here soon. And I’m going to have to tell him about all of it.
The thought makes me nauseous, but I can’t keep hiding this. Not from him. Not anymore.
If we’re going to be together—really together—he deserves to know the truth about my past. Even the ugly parts. Even the parts that make me ashamed.
I just hope he doesn’t look at me any differently.