Page 123 of Go Back to December

“There’s always something with work.” She covers her wistfulness with a smile herfore her attention diverts to the buffet, where Luiza is gesturing wildly.

“Ooh, miha. Luiza found the cinnamon rolls. Go help her.”

When I cross the room, Luiza tugs me away from the food. “I heard from the chef they’ve got two trays of rolls left,” she says quietly, glancing around to make sure that no one else has heard. “I’m thinking we can take half a dozen before everyone else finds out.”

“Please let me be in your pod when the Rapture happens.”

“Deal.” She grunts. “You can be in charge of Baz during the Apocalypse.”

The kitchen door bursts open, and a server bearing a tray of golden, sweet-scented pleasure strides to the buffet. Luiza tackles the guy and coerces him into putting four rolls on her plate. When she tries to convince him to give her more, he holds the tray out of reach.

“There’s more coming out,” he sniffs.

“Go sit down. I’ll wait for it,” I offer.

“I’ll come right back.” She throws the retreating server a stink eye. “You don’t know these weasels like I do. You’re going to need a heavy.”

She prances across to the table, where Annabel and Mark are digging into breakfast, and Sofia sips contentedly at her coffee. Their faces light as the enormous plate of buns descends on the table.

“Melody.”

Alicia pops up from out of nowhere. After last night, I shouldn’t be surprised that she’d be keeping an eye out for us. It does nothing to ease my nerves.

“Oh, hey there. Happy New Year.” I greet her in an overly bright voice.

She forces a smile. “Do you have a minute?”

I’m trapped. Cornered. This is worse than the tweaker at the train station. Because I don’t have Baz here to save me. “Until the next arrival of cinnamon rolls. After that, Luiza will have my head,” I attempt to joke. “Did you have more questions about the film?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk about Baz. Well, you and Baz.”

It’s unfortunate I can’t join the toddler who’s thrown herself on the floor in protest of an intolerable policy about keeping her tights and knickers on.

Alicia taps her empty plate nervously. “How together are you two?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

“When we met at the party, Baz only told me your first name, but the other night at Q, Dooley said you were a Johnson.”

I titter a weird laugh. “Oh, we’re not married. My name is also Johnson.”

“Oh my God, that’s hilarious.” She smiles and tosses a look at the Johnsons’ table. “Baz can be opaque about labeling relationships.”

Because Baz values his privacy. So do I.

Alicia glances at the table again. Sofia’s stares back at us. Annabel catches the path of her gaze. Then Luiza.

“Does his family know about you two?”

“Excuse me?” I sputter.

“Baz came by this morning. I thought he was disclosing your relationship to my father, but when I asked, Dad said Baz hadn’t.”

The fear that spurred my post-concert freak-out last night spikes, but it dissipates just as quickly. Baz assured me he would take care of things, and I trust him more than Blackhart & Steele.

The gall of this Money Honey. Of all of them.

Keeping score of relationships like they’re figures in a ledger. It’s beyond inappropriate. Baz would be furious. He’s so careful about boundaries, it nearly cost him his relationship with his family.