Chapter 3
Toby
Ten years ago (after that night)…
It was eggnog cream puff day. A day I looked forward to every single year because it just wasn’t Christmas without a French puff pastry piped full of an airy, rich eggnog filling, topped off with powdered sugar and a drizzle of dark chocolate, and sprinkled with nutmeg.
Bab made them every year, and they’d become a town staple, with everyone lining up every morning for one of her pastries.
Even though she was born and raised here, Bab had gone to Paris after high school to study at some fancy pastry school.
Instead of staying there, she brought back her skills to open Bab’s Bistro on Main Street.
The eggnog cream puff—my favorite—was something she only made in November and December. Her last batch sold every year on December twenty-eighth.
Considering the last few weeks, I was glad to see this holiday season go, but I would miss the cream puff, which was why I was lining up to get one from the last batch.
Or maybe two. As I said, it’d been a rough season.
I almost didn’t come because this was something Archer and I always did together. The last thing I wanted or needed was a reminder of all the things we wouldn’t be doing again. A reminder of how badly I’d screwed up.
But the more I lay in bed, the angrier I got. Why should I skip on something I loved, something I wouldn’t get again for months, just because he was being a giant jerk? Hadn’t I already lost enough?
Besides, what better way to drown my sorrows than with a pastry filled with sugar?
When I arrived at the bistro, I worried I would be too late, that all the time I’d spent in bed contemplating my life choices this morning would rob me of my sweet treat. There was no line at the door, which could be a good thing or a bad thing.
A good thing because maybe everyone else was eggnog cream puffed out and there would be plenty left for me.
A bad thing because maybe the rush had already come through and there wouldn’t be any left.
Only one way to find out, I told myself and headed for the door. Just as I reached for the handle, a large body swooped in front of me, and I stumbled back. Surprised, I glanced up and let out a rude noise when I saw who it was.
Archer glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes devious and smirk scheming.
“What the hell, Archer?” I said, lunging for the door, but he beat me to it, sliding inside with more grace than I would ever have. Mad, I jerked the door open, making the bells tied to the handle bang instead of chime.
Everyone in the place stopped and looked up.
I flushed, completely embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s pretty windy out there.”
Everyone went back to what they were doing, but my cheeks still burned with embarrassment.
Archer’s low chuckle floated behind him, and my fingers curled into my palms.
I marched forward, but he was already ahead of me and got to the counter before I could. Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention to the glass case displaying all of Bab’s creations. There had clearly been a rush this morning, but thankfully, there were two cream puffs left.
The very last two of the year.
My mouth watered as I anticipated the rich but airy taste.
Archer took his sweet time glancing over everything as if he didn’t know exactly what was on the menu here, and I started to tap my foot against the tile impatiently.
“What can I get you, mon chéri?” Bab asked him.
“Hmm,” Archer mused as if he didn’t get the exact same thing every time.
One coffee with extra room for cream and sugar and one chocolate éclair.
He was taking forever on purpose.
“One large black coffee with extra room for cream and sugar,” he said. So freaking predictable. “And one—actually, no—make that two eggnog cream puffs.”
I stiffened, gaping at his back, wondering if I’d heard him right.
“You sure you don’t want a chocolate éclair?” Bab asked.
Because even she knew that was what he favored!
“I do love your éclairs, but I think I want to try something different today. Be adventurous.”
The second he said it, he glanced—just barely—over his shoulder at me.
My tongue slid over my teeth. Of all the dirty, no-good, un-Christmas-like things to do, he was stealing my cream puffs!
“You don’t even like them,” I hissed.
He turned. “What was that?”
“You heard me.”
“I didn’t. I was too busy anticipating the taste of my breakfast.”
“You don’t even like eggnog,” I ground out.
He feigned surprise even though his eyes danced with laughter. “What? Of course I do.”
Liar. I was shocked his pants weren’t on fire.
I stepped closer, angling my chin down. “What the hell, Archer? You do not. Those are my favorite.”
For a moment, he just stared at me, the mere inches between us suddenly feeling compressed. But then he pulled away, blinking as though he hadn’t felt it at all. “Well, today they’re my favorite.”
“Order up,” Bab said, placing a coffee and a brown paper sack in front of him on the counter.
Archer handed over his money and grabbed the sack, shoving his hand inside to come out with one of the cream puffs. He turned but didn’t walk away, and I felt a spark of hope and maybe relief that he was going to give it to me.
That spark withered as he held my stare, raised the cream puff, and shoved half into his mouth.
I was pretty sure the corner of his eye twitched because, like I said, he did not like eggnog. But he covered it up by shoving the rest of the pastry into his giant lying piehole.
“Sooo good.” He groaned, chewing extra loud.
I scowled.
“You really should get one of these,” he told me.
I scowled harder.
“That’s it until next year.” Babs chimed in from behind.
Archer grinned. “Oh, right.” Pulling the remaining cream puff from the bag, he took a big bite. “Well. Maybe next year.”
I thought about shoving what was left of that delicacy right in his face. Smearing it all around.
It would be a crime against desserts everywhere.
Instead, I stood there watching him eat something he hated just so I couldn’t have it.
Sure, he’d been icy since the mistletoe raising a few weeks ago. And sure, I knew our relationship had changed. But I’d still held out hope we could recover.
But now I knew we wouldn’t.
He’d declared war and used an eggnog cream puff to do it.
“See ya later, Thomas,” he said, smacking his lips as he shouldered past me.
Thomas. Not Toby or Tobes.
“Oh. You’ll be seeing me,” I intoned, vowing to get my revenge.
Present day…
Winterbury Veterinary was a white clapboard colonial house with black shutters and a red front door that was located in the center of town and had been converted into the small-town clinic before I was born.
It hadn’t changed much during my lifetime, other than getting a new roof a few years back and a handful of fresh coats of paint over the years.
It was a two-story place, but the top floor wasn’t in use.
It just sat there full of dust and unlocked potential.
I’d suggested either expanding the practice or turning it into boarding or even grooming, but my father always just said he was content with the way it was.
As I walked up the brick path, I decorated the bare front door, steps, and awning in my mind.
Everything was neat and tidy and perfectly fine, but why let something be perfectly fine when you could sprinkle in some extra?
A large green wreath with a red bow would really pop against the black.
Lining the stairs with a few small potted evergreens with ornaments and twinkle lights would be a fab greeting, and green garland woven with ribbon around the columns would really bring everything together.
You’re only here for a visit. This is not your place to decorate, I reminded myself as I unlocked the front door.
Have you ever noticed how you can tell a place is empty by the scent and stillness in the air? How it isn’t just quiet but empty? That’s what it was like walking in this morning, as if the place had been untouched far longer than the previous day.
I flipped on the lights and turned, taking in the interior, which was familiar despite my not having visited for several years.
The reception desk sat at the back of the open lobby that was filled with benches and chairs, all of which were mismatched but still somehow went together.
The old wooden floor creaked when I walked and could have used some refinishing, as it had seen many paws over the years.
The large window looking out on the street screamed for a Christmas tree, and the ceiling would do well with some hanging snowflakes. My father would likely tell me he was not in the business of decorating but animal care, but personally, I didn’t see why a person couldn’t do both.
On my way past, I noted the mug filled with candy canes sitting by the bell on the counter and how organized the desk was.
At least someone had brought in a touch of Christmas.
Continuing on into the back, I flipped on the lights, reminding myself of the simple layout and looking over all the equipment.
It was all older than what I was used to in Boston, but it was in great condition. I could almost hear my father saying, If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.
He was clearly a very practical man. I often wondered how I could be so much like him but also so very different.
Out in the lobby, the front door opened and closed. “Hello? Dr. Thomas, are you here already?”
I recognized Brandy’s voice instantly, having heard it over the phone weekly for many years.
Dropping my bag on the counter, I hurried from the back. “Let’s just go with Toby. Dr. Thomas makes me feel old.”
Her brown eyes lit up instantly, and she let out a low squeal. “OMG, you’re here!” she exclaimed, turning light on her feet and rushing across the creaking floor to fling her arms around me and squeeze.
Warmth filled me, and I smiled into her wild brown curls. “Seeing you in person totally beats talking to you over the phone.”