Chapter 12 Liam
TWELVE
LIAM
The Jensens’ festively decorated living room feels like a portal back to last Christmas Eve when the realization that I had feelings for my best friend’s sister hit me like a lightning strike.
The memory of Juniper’s lips soft and sweet against mine, and how I was too much of a coward to claim what I wanted.
She shifts beside me now, our elbows brushing as she steadies the chimney I’m propping up with a candy cane. She’s pretending to be annoyed about building this thing with me, but her focus is all in and I can’t help but be charmed by how serious she takes a frosting battle.
“You’re weirdly good at this,” she says, brow furrowed as she presses a gumdrop into place.
“At one point, I wanted to be an architect.”
She pauses, surprise flickering across her face. “Really?”
I nod, adding another swirl of icing along the roofline. “My parents are both architects. It was the plan. Until it wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Firefly.”
She breaks eye contact to reach for the tray of candy, her sleeve brushing my arm, the faint scent of sweet plums and something warm drifting my way.
When I finish the roof seam, she gently presses the two pieces together. She does it delicately, mindful of the bandage on her hand. I want to tell her to stop, to let me do the tricky parts, but I know better than to tell Juniper Jensen she needs help she doesn’t want.
“We have to beat Stella and Jasper.” Her voice drops conspiratorially. “They can’t have everything. They’re disgustingly in love, they’re engaged, they’re probably going to win the ‘Architectural Ambition’ award just for existing.”
I grin at her little rant. “So, sabotage?”
“Not sabotage. Just ruthless, festive competition.” She points her piping bag at me like a wand. “Don’t mess this up, Hargrove.”
“Noted.” I lean closer, careful not to bump her burnt hand. “Whimsical theme, right? Lots of pink?”
She gives me a suspicious look, glancing down at her blush turtleneck and the matching bow in her hair. “You notice way too much.”
“I’m observant. It’s a gift.”
She rolls her eyes but her mouth twitches, betraying the smile she’s fighting.
I cut tiny windows into the gingerbread walls, then shape miniature book spines out of modeling chocolate. When I press them into the “windowsill,” she laughs. It’s a soft, bright sound that punches straight through my ribs.
“Of course you made it a bookstore.” She shakes her head. “You’re insufferably charming when you want to be.”
I lean in to murmur, “You like it, though.”
She glares but doesn’t deny it.
Her mom pops by to check our progress. “How’s it coming, you two?”
“Masterpiece in progress,” I say, earning a conspiratorial nod from Juniper’s mom.
“It’s going to be the best one yet,” Juniper adds. Her smile for her mom is warm, but I see the truth in the tight line of her shoulders. She’s fighting not to melt around me.
When her mom drifts away, I glance at the candy tray. There, one lone cherry swirl candy sits in the corner. I know exactly why she’s eyeing it.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warns.
“It’s the perfect wreath for the front door.”
“It’s my favorite.” She reaches for it at the same time I do.
Our hands collide. Her bandaged one ends up resting lightly on top of mine and I catch the quick hiss she tries to hide.
“Easy.” I brush my thumb gently along the uninjured edge of her knuckles. “You should rest that hand, Firefly.”
She huffs. “You’re impossible.”
“I think you like it.”
Before either of us can claim the candy, one of her cousin’s kids zooms by and snatches it, giggling with triumph as they run off.
Juniper’s jaw drops. “Did you see that?!”
I deadpan, “They clearly hate you.”
“You did this. You jinxed my candy.”
“Guess we’ll have to make do with the peppermint.”
“I wasn’t going to decorate with it. I was going to eat it.”
When her mom calls for the final judging, Juniper looks at our crooked, candy-raided gingerbread bookstore, then back at me. And for just a second, under the twinkle lights and layers of frosting, it feels like she’s not mad at all.
“This year’s winner of the Sweetest Love Shack goes to…” Julie holds the slip of paper aloft like she’s about to announce an Oscar. “Juniper and Liam!”
Juniper lets out a little squeal that makes my chest tighten. She jumps, literally jumps, then throws her arms around my neck. For a heartbeat, she’s pressed up against me, all warm sweetness and soft hair and bright, victorious laughter.
Then she realizes what she’s doing. Her big, startled eyes meet mine and she quickly drops her arms, giving my chest an awkward pat like she’s congratulating a coworker, not a man she once asked to take her virginity.
“Good job,” she says stiffly, avoiding my grin as she slips away into the kitchen.
I’m still standing there when Jasper and Stella find me.
“Nice work, man,” Jasper says, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Thanks, but that was all Juniper.” I watch her weaving through her family, hugging her mom, laughing with her cousin’s kids like I’m not standing here wanting more.
Stella gives me a knowing look. “So…how’s our girl handling your extended stay?”
Jasper eyes my sweater which is mostly icing-free except for a smear near my wrist.
“You’re not covered in frosting, so I assume you’re not dead yet.”
I huff a dry laugh. “I’m surviving. But I’m starting to understand why you looked so damn miserable all those years.”
Jasper lifts a brow. “Miserable?”
“You know what I mean. You were in love with Stella while pretending you weren’t.” I rake a hand through my hair, eyes tracking Juniper as she tries to duck behind the snack table. “I feel like that guy in that movie Stella made us watch.”
Stella smirks. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve made you guys watch a lot of movies.”
“The one where the guy can’t just be friends with the girl. Where he realizes he wants her and wants the rest of his life with her to start now.”
Stella’s smile softens. “When Harry Met Sally.”
“Yeah. That one. I’m Harry.” I drag a palm over my jaw. “Except instead of a New Year’s Eve confession, I’ve got gingerbread houses and forced proximity to work with.”
Jasper chuckles. “You’re going to need to do better than icing and mulled wine, man.”
“I know.” I glance toward Juniper one more time—pink bow slightly askew, cheeks flushed from laughing—and my gut twists with the need to close the space she keeps wedging between us.
“I need something,” I murmur, more to myself than to them. “Something to tip the scales.”
Stella squeezes my arm. “You’ll figure it out, Liam. She’s stubborn, but you’re impossible.”
“Good thing that’s always worked for me.”