Twenty. Yule Be Sorry
Twenty
YULE BE SORRY
When I wake up the next morning, it’s to the memory of Grant staring up at me like he finally recovered a treasure he had lost long ago, and I have to use all my mental strength to think about what’s on my Sweetville agenda for the day.
The cookie contest finals are only a few days away, and I wonder if I need to text Corey to talk about what we should do.
Weird. But okay. At the very least, an official event means I don’t have to awkwardly check in with Corey about whether we should meet up.
I assume he’ll be at the Shopping Sweet.
But my winning mood from yesterday is gone.
I am utterly blowing my Sweetville Christmas experience.
If I was right and getting Corey to fall for me was my way out of here, I failed on that front.
Then I cherry-on-topped it by literally climbing on top of my ex.
I’m surprised I haven’t been banished to a whole different reality—Jill Can’t Have Nice Things World. Oh, wait—that’s just the real world.
While feeling sorry for myself—interspersed with daydreaming about how I wish I’d let things with Grant follow through to their natural conclusion last night—I get showered and dressed and out the door.
Despite carrying around my heavy load of self-pity, I’m still one of the first to arrive at the Shopping Sweet.
There’s a check-in table set up beneath a small tent along the brick front of the store.
I slip underneath and spot a table with some pastries and coffee laid out for us.
Taking a glazed donut, I lean against the wall and nibble on my breakfast while watching the remaining competition pour in.
The twins arrive together, looking as chipper as ever in matching fleece vests.
The other team who made it through, the prince and his assistant, show up hand in hand, and I imagine that last night’s celebration finally got them together.
She’s beaming at him, and I can tell they really don’t care about the competition at all anymore. They have each other.
Fiona checks in next, wearing head-to-toe ivory.
She’s so poised and chic it’s as if someone imbued her with the spirit of a Siamese cat.
She sticks to the edge of the tent. Is it snobbery, or does she feel out of place without Grant by her side?
I don’t realize I’m staring at her until she glances my way, and I turn my focus to the half-eaten donut on my plate.
Corey comes in a moment later, with a bit of flour splashed on the pocket of his flannel shirt that does, even though we didn’t plan it, match mine. His eyes land on me right away, and he starts to come toward me. My heart fly-balls in an arc across my chest when he smiles at me.
And then it plummets into my stomach as Grant ducks beneath the tent, his expression tense and his eyes downcast. Avoiding any contact with mine, I imagine.
Corey stops near me, and I wonder if he’s going to act like nothing happened—probably, because to him, nothing did happen—but then Melinda slips into the tent with a businesslike demeanor. She claps her hands to get our attention.
“Cookie makers! Congratulations on emerging victorious… so far,” Melinda says mischievously as she stands before us.
Her Santa sweater lights up, making Santa appear slightly malevolent.
“Today, we have a special challenge for all of you. Because this is a baking competition, we have to mix things up. And that means you’ll all be paired off with someone new! ”
A murmur of concern ripples through the tent. One of the twins, who’s squeezed closer to me to make room for Grant, emits a choked gasping sound through a mouthful of donut. I clap her on the back. She swallows her bite with a grateful smile.
“Now, don’t worry; this will be a lot of fun,” Melinda reassures us. “You’re going to use all the know-how you funneled into round one and share it with a new partner. The assignments are Peppa and Lilith!”
Peppa, the redheaded twin who I didn’t just slap, grimaces at her sister but smiles brightly at the prince’s assistant, who primly offers a hand to shake.
“Lionel and Polly.” The prince and the other redhead pair off, and my stomach begins to sink. I’m going to be paired with Fiona or Grant.
I’ll take Fiona.
“Fiona and…” The judge pauses. “Corey!”
Fuck me with a KitchenAid mixer attachment.
“Grant and Jill!”
I hear Grant cough in a pained manner. Everyone else links up with their partner, but Grant and I stand completely still as Melinda tells us all that we’ll be shopping for our second-round ingredients so we can devise an all-new recipe together.
Fiona whispers something to Corey, who nods and smiles.
They’re still chatting happily as Melinda tells us that we’ll be making an all-new cookie, and we can select anything we need from the Shopping Sweet that will help us invent it.
“Fun, right?” she says as she dismisses us so we can begin our shopping.
I wait for the last of the teams to leave before taking a few reluctant steps closer to Grant. I’m about to make a joke, my usual defense mechanism, but he turns his back on me to start toward the store’s entrance. We may be in a town where no one ever has a bad day, but we are not in a good place.
“Let’s just make the best of this,” Grant says as I come up by his side. “I think I deserve to win, even if you think it’s a mistake.”
I wince at his choice of words.
“You’re the baker,” I say in a tone so perky you’d think I’d piped royal icing into my veins.
“I’m a chef, not a baker,” he corrects me. “Let’s get this over with.”
He yanks a cart from the line of them at the front of the store and I follow him inside. Without looking at me, he steers our cart toward the dairy section. I trail behind him, noting that his posture is so rigid and tense it gives new meaning to putting walls up.
Whatever we end up baking together, it won’t be with love.
Grant and I exchange maybe three words during our shopping trip, which eventually involves me pushing the cart as he throws things inside it. Nonsensical, nonbaking things, like canned green beans and pork rinds. While the other teams we pass look engaged in icebreakers, we engage in plain old ice.
When we finish, he breezes out the doors of the store, muttering a highly uncharacteristic “Peace out” as he clips past me to his truck. His fast walk makes the air colder.
I was scared to be in Powell Park, bumping into Grant even for a minute, and now I have to see him every day.
Plus, time must be passing back there. I think of the Heartfelt meeting Lacey said she set up for me.
I could text her, but that would mean she might want to talk about how I should prepare, not realizing that I’m not even sure I can get back to my regular life, let alone LA.
Now more than ever, I want to escape from this place so I can go.
I don’t have any ideas for them, it’s true, but I have to fix my flailing career.
I want one thing in my life to go right.
But if I’m paired with Grant now, how do I get back on track with Corey?
Fling myself in front of his car? He still hasn’t emerged from the store.
For all I know, he’s falling for Fiona right now.
I need advice. I know Santa knows something, and maybe if I beg, he’ll tell me what I need to do.
But no dice. There’s a Santa ringing a bell outside the store but not the Santa I’ve come to know.
I stop to leave a dollar in the Santa’s collection bucket, contemplating what Sweetville is like when it’s not the holidays.
I’m in a daze as I head back to my dad’s SUV, fretting that I might be stuck in Sweetville for good.
After last night, I’m way further from writing my ending with Corey.
But I’ll think of something, Santa guide or not.
I unlock the door to the SUV and start to climb in, when I hear Corey call my name. “Jill! Jill!”
I pause and step down from the SUV, shutting the door and leaning against it as I wait for him to catch up to me.
He’s jogging across the parking lot, smiling at everyone he passes.
He used to do the same thing when he ran out onto the football field.
While other guys took to the turf with ground-in angry faces to show how tough they were, Corey never felt the need, which only made him more intimidating to opponents.
“Do you have a second?” he says. “I just wanted to say something.”
I blush, wondering if he saw me and Grant together and now he’s coming over to say he’s happy for us and isn’t in any turmoil whatsoever, because he never wanted me even a little bit, seeing as I could never come close to being the woman Christina was.
His open expression suggests that he didn’t see anything, though, and this is about something else.
“Sure. What do you need?” I ask, trying to sound upbeat and detached.
“I need to say I’m sorry.”
“Why would you apologize?” I say. I hope I sound kind because, just like I told the Corey nutcracker, it’s not his fault.
Corey cocks his head back and looks at the sky for a second like he’s trying to gather his thoughts or hoping for heavenly inspiration.
Then he looks back at me. He reaches out and takes both my hands in his.
“I meant what I said about Christina. It’s really hard to do all of this without her,” he says.
His eyes mist over, and a small tear appears at the corner of his left eyelid.
It makes me want to pull him in for a long hug.
“I really miss her. And I’d rather be honest about that.
But I’m also not being honest with you about something else. ”
I raise an eyebrow. He’s still holding my hands, and his palms are warm and strong wrapped around mine. He squeezes. “The thing is, I like you, Jill. A lot,” he says.
My cheeks warm at his words. My first reaction, though, is to scan the parking lot for Grant.
For reasons I can’t explain, I don’t want him to see this.
But the only people close by are the twins.
Peppa—or maybe it’s Polly?—spots Corey and me and flashes a double thumbs-up.
And she’s right. This is a very thumbs-up development.
Corey watches me for my reaction, so I finally muster my voice and say, “You do?”
He nods and takes a step closer, and my heart thuds, thinking he’s going to kiss me. Would that send me back to reality? That would leave Grant without a teammate. But Corey stops short and says, “I hope what I said last night didn’t give you the wrong idea.”
As he says it, I tell myself to stop worrying about Grant and letting him down.
First of all, it’s only Sweetville Grant.
Second, I need to focus on my story. Grant, the real or Heartfelt version, is no longer in the picture.
I force myself to really look at Corey. Who I do like a lot.
Who’s the kind of guy who will help me get Grant out from under my skin once and for all.
Even if it’s only Sweetville Corey. His breath fogs the air, and I remind myself it’s his warm mouth that I want to feel on mine, that I want to trail down my neck, that I want to explore with my tongue.
“What idea?” I finally say.
“That there’s not something here. I think there is.” He nods to himself, like he’s very sure of this. “I mean, I don’t know if you do.”
“I do,” I stammer.
Corey stands up a little straighter, like my assent has inflated him. “I thought… Well, if I wasn’t a total dolt last night, I really want to try again. May I?”
I lean forward, testing out a light kiss on Corey’s cheek.
His stubble tickles my lips, and he smells even better up close.
When I pull back, he touches his cheek like he’s trying to press my kiss deeper into his skin.
A little thrill runs through me at his delight and surprise. “You definitely may.”