Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
AVERY
“Where is he?” I mutter under my breath, watching the doors like a hawk.
He left to get the final box from my car twenty minutes ago, and there hasn’t been a sign from him.
There was a shift in him before he left. Finding the tracking devices in our pockets set something off in him that made him turn back into the man I met the night at the airport. The one that would rather shut down than work through what’s going on.
He wouldn’t drive off in my car without me, right?
Rather than worrying about it, because he wouldn’t do that—or I’m mostly sure he wouldn’t—I fidget with the gingerbread pieces I’ve pulled out of the box and arranged on the table.
Rules of the event state that pieces can be pre-designed and cut out, but they can’t be assembled until the day of the competition and only when the couple is together.
Which means I’m left poking at the pieces and candy decoration until Matthew gets back.
“Stood up at the candy shack?” McKenzie asks, that fake smile plastered on her face.
“Nope. Matthew just ran to the car to get the rest of our supplies.”
“It’s been a while. Are you sure he didn’t flee? Leave you to deal with the town and pick up the pieces of your failed attempt at the games?”
What is she reading my mind? There’s no way I can let her know that, though.
“He’ll be back.”
“You seem so sure.”
“You seem so sure to see the worst in him.”
She tilts her head to the side, her smile becoming less fake and more unkind. “You don’t know him like I do.”
“I don’t think you know him at all. Not anymore.”
Movement behind McKenzie draws my attention, but I fight to break my eyes away from hers. I want to breathe a sigh of relief when Matthew walks in, my large box in his hands, followed by Eric with the bags I had with it in the trunk.
“Looks like your worries were unfounded. Here he is,” I say with a smile just as fake as hers.
“Hmm, for now.” She leans in and drops her voice. The painfully overpowering scent of her perfume makes my stomach turn, but I don’t let her see it. “Just remember that it’s not just me that’s watching you, it’s the whole town.”
“Are you threatening me, McKenzie?”
“Me? Of course not!” Her hand flies to her chest, bright pink nails nearly blending in with her pink sweater. “Just a reminder.”
With a final sneer, she walks away, nearly bumping into Matthew.
“Matty,” she says sweetly.
“McKenzie,” he grunts.
At least he’s not falling for her sickly sweet persona. Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t the only one that noticed she completely ignored Eric.
“What did she want?” Matthew asks, placing the box on the chair beside me.
“Nothing important,” I huff, watching her as she air kisses an older woman, fake smile back on her face.
Bringing my gaze to the two men in front of me, I find they are both looking at me quizzically.
“What? Do I have icing on my face?” I bring my hand up to the corner of my mouth, wiping, hoping to take off whatever traces are left behind.
“No, or at least, I don’t think so,” Matthew says. “What, uh, what do we need all of this for?”
“Is this all for one gingerbread house?” Eric asks, handing me the bags he carried in.
“Not a house. A store,” I answer, placing the bags on the floor next to me.
“Which store?” Matthew asks.
“Nutmeg & Nails. Your store.” I watch his face, waiting for his reaction.
I honestly don’t know which one I’ll get.
I was praying he wouldn’t be mad. I’m doing it because, while it might not be where he wants to be working right now, it is the reason that we met, and the reason we started fake dating.
If we hadn’t, we would have just gone our separate ways that night, and I don’t want to think about that being the end to our story.
While there is still a very strong possibility that our story will end, I’m glad it wasn’t on that night.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and made the sign up beforehand.
Don’t worry, I checked it’s just the placing together of the pieces and the finishing touches that have to be here today.
I made sure to read the rules. Twice.” I hesitate before pulling out a rectangular piece from the box on the chair behind me, holding it flat in my hands.
The name ‘Nutmeg & Nails’ is spelled out in cursive, written in white icing, but beneath it reads ‘Roberts & Sons Hardware.’
“That’s…wow,” he says, not looking up from the cookie sign in my hand.
“Yeah?” I lean forward, placing my hand on his arm. “Is that okay? You’re not upset, are you?”
“No, not at all. I just…I don’t know what to say.”
“What’s the name under it?” Eric asks, peering over Matthew’s shoulder.
“The original name. Before…” Matthew answers.
“Everything went crazy?” Eric finishes.
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “That’s one way to put it.”
“So, it’s okay?” I ask tentatively.
“More than okay,” Matthew adds.
I let out a sigh of relief and my hands clutch my chest. “I’m so happy. I wanted to do something special for you and your family. I was really hoping that I didn’t cross any boundaries, but once you said our entry had to be a place in the town, I knew that’s what we had to do.”
We. Because I feel like Matthew is just as much a part of this as I am.
I may have planned and prepped, but he’s in this with me.
We’re doing this for him. To prove to him and the town that he’s not what they think, and the more that I’m here and find out that people like McKenzie and InsiderCookie57 think they can shove out whoever they deem unfit, it makes me more determined to prove them wrong.
“What do you say we get started, then?” Matthew asks, finally looking up at me.
There’s a quiet, reserved feeling to him, making me think that maybe I did the right thing in picking the store.
I’ve been nothing but a nervous ball of tinsel all week getting it ready.
But the way he’s looking at me, with his mouth ticked up in a coy smile and a shimmer of hope in his eyes, I think I made the right choice.
Not just with choosing to do the hardware store for our entry, but also taking the chance on hitching a ride with him from the airport that night and for being with him now.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Eric says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walks off, reminding me that we aren’t here alone.
“Right. The competition,” Matthew says, looking at the table. “I hope you, uh, have a plan.”
“I do!” I begin pulling my iPad out of my bag and tapping it awake.
“How much time did you spend on this, exactly?” he asks, peering over my shoulder.
“Not as much as I wanted to.” I tap and swipe until I find the screen I’m looking for. “Ah ha! Here it is! I used Santa’s List to make up a rendering.”
“I’m sorry, a what?”
I look over my shoulder at him. His eyebrows raised, his hazel eyes wide behind his glasses.
“Right. Elf lingo,” I laugh. “It’s the organization program we use at work. We make lists for the families and have the option to check everything twice…”
“Do you have a naughty or nice list, too?” he chuckles.
“Yes, but we don’t call it that.”
“Wait, really?”
“It’s more for the employees. Technically, we have to call it ‘performance reviews,’ but everyone in management knows what it really is.”
“And how do gingerbread houses fit into this?”
“Well…” I start, turning the iPad to face him. “When we had the program built, we wanted a creative space. Here, we are able to work with actual dimensions of candies, cookies, and everything we might need to make the houses themselves not just beautiful, but also structurally sound.”
“That’s…incredible.” He takes the iPad from my hands and explores what I’ve created. “And you did all of this? The detail you have—are you sure we can recreate this?”
“I am! I used our gingerbread cutter to get the proportions right.”
“Gingerbread cutter? Just how many gingerbread houses do you all make?”
“Oh, loads!” I exclaim. “We do it as a team building exercise before the start of the season, and then we try to make kits for each of the families. We try our best to match it to their favourite candies or whatever theme they want.”
“You really try to make it special for the families, don’t you?”
“I mean, we try,” I shrug. “It means a lot to me—to all of us—that the families have the best Christmas they can. If there’s anything we can do to make it better for them, we want to do that.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I mean, I’m just doing what anyone would…”
“No, you really aren’t.” He grabs my hands and waits until my eyes meet his.
Everything about him in this moment tells me he means everything he’s saying.
“Most people wouldn’t do what you’re doing, Avery.
And if they wanted to do something, they wouldn’t go to the lengths you are. You are truly incredible.”
“Thank you, Matthew.” I can’t take my eyes off his grin as he looks at me like he means every word he just said.
Which, knowing Matthew even the fraction of the amount that I do, I know he means it.
I don’t know how to respond to it, really.
I love my job and I love helping people.
There’s not much more to it than that. I’ve been blessed to have found a place that I love being and I get to work with amazing people to help others. I couldn’t ask for a better job.
Which is why I’m thinking that it was meant to be that I found out about Maxwell and we broke up.
It physically hurt to think of me leaving C.O.C.O.A.
to move to the city, even when it meant that I was going to be with the man I thought I loved.
But now I see that God had another plan for me, and I’m where I’m supposed to be.
“So,” he starts, clearing his throat and looking at the table. “Why don’t you show me how we’re going to assemble this. I don’t think I’ve touched one since I was a kid.”
“Don’t worry, it’s simple.” I take the iPad back from him and point out the different pieces. “We’re just going to make it like a rectangular box. Since the store itself is on the main street and boxed in with other stores on each side, I’ve designed a sort of Christmas mural on the walls.”
“I hope you aren’t expecting me to draw that. I can code a program to do that, I can’t draw it myself. “
I laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ve got that covered. Years of decorating these babies and sugar cookies, I can do that. What I need you to do is assemble.” Reaching into a bag, I grab a baking sheet and a bag of sugar, handing it to him and I rifle through the rest of the bag.
“Isn’t the sugar usually made into icing? Did you bring a mixer?”
“No, silly. I have icing sugar for the decorations. You’re going to be melting sugar to hold the pieces together.”
“I’m going to…what?”
“Ah ha!” I exclaim, reaching into the bottom of the bag and pulling out what I was looking for. “You’re going to melt the sugar on the baking sheet using this.”
“You brought a torch?”
“Not just any torch. A kitchen torch. If you use the melted sugar to hold the pieces together, it’ll act like cement. Much sturdier than royal icing. You’ll be trying to hold the walls up all day.”
He stares at me blankly, still holding the baking sheet and sugar.
“Isn’t melted sugar supposed to be extremely hot? How do you do that without burning yourself?”
“Oh! I have something for that!” Picking up another bag, I reach in and grab a pair of gloves. “These will protect you. The sugar melts fast so you shouldn’t have to use it for too long.”
I show him how to use everything and after picking it up quickly, he’s off on his own piecing everything together. That leaves me to finish the decoration.
“What are those?” he asks, looking over as he’s holding two pieces of cookie together.
“Bricks.”
“Bricks…” he repeats flatly.
“Right, you just saw the structural drawing, not the finished product.” I grab the iPad once more, tapping away.
“How detailed is this app?”
“Oh, very! Here.” I turn the tablet to show him a completed rendering. Cookie bricks make up all the sides. A small awning hangs over top and above is the sign.
“What are the windows made out of?” he asks, not looking up from the screen.
“Melted sugar. I made them this morning.”
“How do you have time? Between this, your job, the snowball fight…do you not sleep?”
“I run on a coffee IV,” I say flatly. When I realize he doesn’t get the joke, or the reference to Lorelei Gilmore, I laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t use an IV. I drink it in copious amounts like normal people.”
“Not hot cocoa? I thought elves couldn’t have coffee.” The corner of his mouth fights to tick up in a smile, but he clamps it down.
“Common misconception. Elves love, and require, coffee just as much as everyone else. More so in December.”
“Well, my little elf, we’d better make sure you have enough caffeine.” He takes his gloves off and puts down the torch. “I saw a coffee station when I first came in. Let me get you some fuel.”
I watch in awe as he walks away.
Did he just call me his little elf?