Page 91 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“You too.”
I watch her walk off with a spring in her step that makes me fear for her ankles on the icy ground.
When I open the door to my flat, I freeze stop right in the frame.
“Holy hell,” I sputter, eyes darting around the room. Gingerbread covers every surface in my apartment. It’s lying on my couch; it has conquered all of my tables, even the windowsills, even my bed is covered in baking sheets and cookies. The ending notes of a Pentatonix Christmas song are blasting through the room.
“There you are!” Lauren darts around the kitchen counter.
“It looks like a gingerbread bomb exploded in here,” I tell her. She’s got icing smeared all over her sweatshirt, with some specks even in her hair. A flake falls off as she softly shakes her head.
“Listen, it might seem as if I got a lot done already, but for some reason, the mountain of yet-to-be-iced gingerbread is not shrinking.”
Before I can even think more about gingerbread, I cup her face and lean down for a quick kiss. She melts against me, pulling off my beanie to thread her fingers through my hair.
“You taste sweet,” I mumble after breaking the kiss.
“And you taste like coffee and emotional turmoil.” She arches an eyebrow, then runs her fingertip over my forehead to smooth out the crease between my brows. “Is everything alright?”
“I ran into Dawn.”
She reaches for my hand and pulls me over to the table.
“Do you want to pipe the borders while you tell me about it?”
“There's not really much to tell,” I say, sitting down, reaching for the piping bag and a yet-to-be-iced gingerbread heart. “She apologized for the ambush. I told her it would take some time to get accustomed to the realization that I have a little sister, gave her my phone number, and I guess I’ll take it one step at a time.”
“That’s great.” Her whole face lights up. I press down on the icing bag and start piping.
“I still don’t know about Emilia, though.” I shake my head and turn the heart in my hands. “It’s one hell of a lot easier to give someone a chance who isn’t directly responsible for this clusterfuck of a situation. My mother had all those years to reach out to me and just never did beyond that one time my dad sent her off. And now I’m supposed to let her into my life with the snap of a finger.” I look up from the cookie, finding her staring at me with a soft expression.
“I understand the feeling. Kind of,” she whispers with a small laugh. “But the snap-of-a-finger thing makes you want to do the opposite on principle, doesn’t it?”
“Absolutely.” I resume piping. “I believe her in that she’s sorry, but what is stopping her from disappearing again? It would take ages to regain even a sliver of trust, and I wonder if that would even be worth it.”
“That’s for your mother to decide though, isn’t it? If she wants to put in that work?”
I set down the heart with a freshly piped border, and Lauren’s eyes widen, her jaw dropping.
“What the hell? I’ve been at it all day, perfecting my technique, and my borders aren’t anywhere near this clean. How did you do that?”
“In case you forgot, I kind of own a café,” I chuckle and reach for a bag holding white and red marbled icing. “I’ve iced many cupcakes and regular cakes.”
“Okay, then now you do the borders, I’ll do the writing,” she says with a pout.
“Fine with me.” I reach for a star-shaped gingerbread. “Let’s do this until the pizza arrives. We’ll need some space to eat that at.”
“Then you better get piping.”
Chapter 35
Lauren
“Thank God you’re here,” I say relieved and through chattering teeth, stamping my feet to warm them up. The cold didn’t seem too bad when we set up our booth this morning, but now, five hours later, it’s crept into my bones. Half an hour ago, Harry came to our booth, frantically whispered with Caleb and whisked him away.
“Why the fuck aren’t you wearing your scarf?”
I pat my naked neck. Right. “It kept tangling when I was handing out gingerbread, so I took it off and…” I realize he’s holding a thermos mug in his hands. “Is that hot coffee?”
