Chapter 31
HOLIDAY
Iwake up at three forty-five in the morning, and for a moment, I don’t know where I am.
My childhood bedroom comes into focus slowly. I see the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that Lucas put up when we were sixteen. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, and the light from the screen hurts my eyes.
Spooky.
Tomorrow is the contest, the day I’ve been counting down to for weeks.
My stomach turns itself inside out, and I have to breathe through my nose to keep from getting sick.
Tomorrow, I’ll stand in front of hundreds of people and bake while Dominic Laurent watches my every move.
The entire town will see if I’m as good as everyone believes me to be.
Tomorrow, everything I’ve worked for over the past decade will come down to those three hours.
Because, while this contest is in Merryville, the entire world is watching my relationship with Lucas unfold.
They even discussed live streaming it. It’s something I didn’t learn about until yesterday. I’m not ready for this level of exposure, and the thought makes me sick.
I force myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water run over me until it turns lukewarm. When I catch my reflection in the foggy mirror, I barely recognize myself. I look like I haven’t slept; probably because I haven’t. The only time I can rest is when Lucas is holding me.
When I’m alone and I close my eyes, I see Dominic’s face.
I can hear his threats and remember how he controlled me.
I imagine those videos being released, my parents seeing them, and the whole town knowing every intimate detail of my past. This is a game of cat and mouse, except I don’t know which one I am.
Right now, I feel like I’m being hunted.
I get dressed in the dark, and by four fifteen, I’m in my car, driving down the empty country road that leads to the Christmas tree farm. When I turn onto the property, Christmas lights twinkle in the predawn darkness. Usually, it makes me smile, but today I just feel lonely.
The lights are already on at the bakery when I pull up. Bella’s car is in the parking lot, and when I walk inside, she’s already wearing her apron and pulling ingredients from the walk-in fridge.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“Wanted to get started and give you a break,” she says. “You’re mentally exhausted, Holiday.”
“I am,” I say. “Will be happy when this contest is over and everything can go back to normal.”
Normal. I don’t even know what that is.
“Yes, tomorrow is going to be a big day!” She’s way too cheerful for four thirty in the morning. “Are you excited? Nervous? Both?”
“Both,” I manage, tying on my apron, barely awake.
I move to the coffee maker and brew some coffee, hoping it jolts me awake. Right before I take my first sip, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting a good morning text from Lucas. But it’s not.
Dominic
Look what I just came across on my phone. Missing you terribly.
Below the text is a thumbnail file of a video. My stomach drops because I recognize the setting immediately. It’s our condo in Paris. More specifically, the bedroom with the exposed brick wall, and in the thumbnail, I can see myself on the bed.
My hands start shaking so badly that I almost drop the phone.
This is his warning shot. His reminder that he has power over me. That tomorrow, when I’m standing in front of everyone, he’ll be watching me while lording this over my head.
I don’t watch the video because I can’t. I know what’s in it and seeing it will destroy me. With trembling fingers, I text Lucas.
Holiday
He sent me one of the videos.
The response comes within seconds.
Lucas
Fuck him. He’s just trying to get into your head and play mental games. Don’t let him, HoHo. You hold all the cards.
Lucas
Also, good morning. Can’t wait to see you.
I force myself to focus on work as I make the icing.
Today, I’m making Double Doozie gingerbread men, peanut butter blossoms, and red velvet cookies.
I know they’ll all be bestsellers, and we’ll sell out in hours, but there is nothing I can do until the bakery is expanded.
My hands know the measurements to the icing by heart, even when my brain is somewhere else.
Bella pulls the first batches out of the oven, and they come out perfectly.
“I have to run home real quick,” Bella tells me. “I forgot my headphones, and I want to listen to my audiobook.”
“Okay, no problem,” I tell her.
“Ten minutes, max,” she says, rushing to the door.
I add the dough to the trays and place it inside the oven as I work on the rest of the prep.
When I smell the cookies, I realize I forgot to set a timer.
When I pull them out, they’re burned with black edges.
The gingerbread men look more like corpses.
I stare at the ruined cookies and something inside me cracks.
I’ve been baking since I was eleven years old.
I’ve worked at Michelin-star restaurants.
I don’t ever burn cookies like this. But I just did.
I’m too distracted.
“It’s okay,” Bella says quickly as she rushes inside. “We’ll make another batch. No big deal. No use crying over burnt cookies.”
How am I supposed to perform tomorrow in front of the judges, cameras, and Dominic if I’m making mistakes like this?
I force myself to focus. The next ones come out perfect. By the time Wendy arrives at seven, we’ve got a few thousand cookies cooling, and more in the oven.
By nine, the line is wrapped around the building. Everyone wants to wish me luck, take photos with me, and tell me they’re rooting for us. I force smile after smile until my face hurts. Every time my phone buzzes, I flinch, expecting another text from Dominic. But he stays silent.
We sell out by one o’clock, and Bella shoos me toward the door. “Go rest. You need it for tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “Wendy and I have this.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
I drive home and force myself into the shower, trying to wash away the memory of that video thumbnail.
It doesn’t work, but I try to scrub away the feeling of Dominic’s hands on me and his voice in my ear, along with all the things I did so he’d love me.
I slide into some buttery-soft black leggings and an oversized cream-colored sweater, grab my overnight bag, and head to Lucas’s house.
“Staying with a friend,” I tell my mom and dad.
“Tell Lucas we said hi,” Mom says with a smirk.
I grin, then leave. The drive over to his house takes longer than I want because there is still a line to get into the Christmas tree farm.
In December, they do sleigh rides, photos with Santa, and have live bands play.
It’s an experience that everyone wants. Leaving the farm is easy, but returning is hard, even with the shortcut that leads to the Jolly loop where his entire family lives.
When I arrive, I look at the house he built, the one we talked about when we were teenagers.
Christmas lights twinkle around the eaves.
Before I make it to the porch, he’s opening the front door, smirking at me.
He’s shirtless and wearing gray joggers.
My eyes slide up and down his body, and I can’t believe he’s looking at me like this. It takes my breath away.
“Hurry, my nipples are so hard they could cut ice,” he tells me with a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets.
My face cracks into a smile, and I pick up my pace. I rush up the steps, and he pulls me inside, closing the door behind me. The warmth of his house wraps around me immediately, and I can smell something cooking that makes my stomach rumble for the first time all week.
“There you are,” he says, taking my overnight bag and tossing it by the stairs. “Was starting to think you got lost.”
“Traffic was insane getting back onto the farm.”
“Yeah, December is nuts.” He pulls me against him, and I melt into his chest. “How are you holding up after this morning?”
“Better now that I’m here.”
He tilts my chin up to look at him. “That video he sent was bullshit. You know that, right?”
“I know. I just—”
“Nope.” He puts his finger over my lips. “We’re not talking about him tonight. Tonight is about us. About getting you relaxed and ready for tomorrow. About reminding you that you’re a badass who’s going to destroy everyone at that contest.”
Lucas always knows how to make me smile. “A badass?”
“The baddest.” He grins and that dimple appears. “Now come on. I made dinner, and if you don’t eat, I’m gonna have to kick your ass.”
“I haven’t been hungry lately.”
Lucas takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen. “When’s the last time you ate a full meal? Not that girl dinner bullshit.”
I think about it. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s what I thought.” He guides me to the kitchen island, and I slide onto a stool. “I made your favorite.”
When I get stressed, I lose my entire appetite. I’ve been so busy, the only reason I know the date is because the contest is tomorrow.
Lucas pulls a dish from the oven and my mouth actually waters. He made chicken parmesan with pasta and garlic bread. It was the first meal he ever cooked for me.
“I love this,” I say, my throat tight.
“You haven’t even tasted it yet. Could suck.” He plates the food and sets it in front of me. “Now eat. Lumberjack orders.”
I snicker. “There’s something else you have that I want to eat.”
“Oh, babe. There will be plenty of time for that. But I’m taking care of you first.” Lucas shoots me a wink.
I laugh, actually laugh, for the first time all day. He grins at me, clearly pleased with himself, and sits beside me with a plate piled high.
I take a bite, and it’s pure perfection. The chicken is crispy and the cheese is perfectly melted where it’s still gooey. The marinara is tangy, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.
“Well?” he asks.
“So damn good. Like, wow.”
“That YouTube video was a winner.” His eyes are warm on mine.