Chapter 23 #2
Josh made his way down the steps, turning into the kitchen. None of us answered.
“Okay then. I’m headed out to meet up with some friends if anyone needs me.”
“Brielle was just telling us about how you took her to that fundraiser of yours at school recently.”
His eyebrows arched an inch high. “Oh, yeah. It was, uh, a really good time there, wrapping.” He glanced at me.
“Speed-wrapping.”
He chuckled. “Right. Surprised you want to admit to that when I beat you.”
“You said it wasn’t a competition.”
He rolled his eyes with a smile.
Gina cleared her throat. “Sounds like the most fun thing I’ve ever heard,” she said sarcastically.
I shrugged. “It was fun.”
“Yeah, it was good, until her date bailed on her for the night, and we went to my friend Matt’s house for holiday movies.”
“You went to his friend’s house with him?” Gina asked.
Had I not told her that before?
“I was already dressed to go out,” I said softly.
Slowly, she nodded, studying me, as if this made some kind of sense.
I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt.
His mom smiled. “Mmhmm. Well, have fun out. Let me know if you’ll be back for dinner.”
“Will do.”
“Have fun,” I added.
Josh paused, looking at me for another moment before giving a single nod. He half lifted his hand as he turned around. “See ya later.”
Mrs. Hutton’s eyes were on me.
I looked back to my gingerbread, transferring them over to the tray to go into the oven.
“Well, don’t give up just yet, Brielle.”
“What?” I asked, confused what we were talking about now. “Did I miss something?”
“Your dates,” she said, reminding me of the conversation we had been having prior to Josh walking in. “Don’t worry. The right one is out there.”
“I’m just happy she isn’t locking herself up in the apartment.”
“Seems like she has been getting out quite a bit.” Mrs. Hutton shot me a sly look. “Maybe the right one is closer than you think.”
My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure if Mrs. Hutton was hinting at something or if it was just my imagination running wild. I’d only just gotten here, and Josh had walked into the room for what, all of a minute, maybe two? No way.
“I’m just … focusing on finding a job right now,” I said, my voice a little too high-pitched.
I rolled out another section of dough, willing myself not to think about Josh’s warm smile or the way he had been looking at me lately. No one else had noticed, but I knew.
I let out a breath, heart still racing. My stress levels had been through the roof recently.
I needed to get my head on straight. Focus on baking.
Focus on work and writing. Focus on anything other than the fact that Josh was living in the same house, which felt even more intimate than the apartment for some reason, and the way he looked at me, like he was trying to tell me something without saying a word.
At least … until the holidays were over and I was out of this pressure cooker of it all.
Future me could deal with that.
I could curse now me later.
“I actually have one Christmas present for you early,” said Gina, coming up next to me. “You good here, Mom?”
“Go,” she said with a little less of a smile, though her voice remained upbeat. “Enjoy yourself.”
I took the hand towel from her, wiping my hands.
“What are you talking about?” I asked Gina.
She’d better not have gotten me anything extra. I had already been stressed over what to get her this year, maxing out my present budget to make sure it was something worthwhile with how great she had been to me since we’d moved in together.
“You didn’t need to get me anything, let alone something extra.”
“Psh.” Gina waved me off.
Mrs. Hutton smiled without saying anything. Her eyes flickered when they landed on me again, as if studying.
Gina took my hand tightly. “You just have to follow me.”
“Could you slow down? I’m going to face-plant in your front yard again.”
Gina glanced back at me with that mischievous grin that always meant trouble. “But this time, you’re sober. So, maybe your pretty face will stand a chance.”
I groaned, yanking my coat around my shoulders at the front door along with her before she half dragged me across the porch and down the icy front steps. “That was senior year, Gina. Are you ever going to let the incident go?”
“Not a chance. It’s a classic.”
The cold hit my cheeks in a sharp burst. It was the kind of winter air that turned breath into clouds and made my fingers ache, even through gloves.
Gina was practically bouncing beside me, bundled in a puffy coat and a knit scarf that looked like it had been woven by a very enthusiastic grandmother.
“My personal blind date pick is here. At last!” she chirped, like this was the grand finale to a months-long game show.
I arched a brow. “I thought Alex from the gallery was your pick.”
“Nope. He was a convenient wild card. Don’t be mistaken.” She twirled on her booted heels, gesturing out toward the driveway. “This my real pick.”
I chuckled under my breath. “We’re at home. Who could you possibly have—”
But I stopped.
Because I saw him.
And everything inside me stilled.
He was standing by the mailbox, hands shoved into the pockets of a sleek wool coat, hair styled just like it had always been—neatly tousled, like he never had to try. A familiar smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth the moment our eyes met, like no time had passed at all.
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Gina … is that …”
She grinned. “You’re welcome.”
My ex-boyfriend.
From high school.