Page 63 of Blush Crush

The silence was deafening as my eyes darting between him and the contents of the box.

“You had a mold made of yourself?” I asked slowly. “How do you even…you know what? I don’t want to know.”

“It’s like a nice introduction before you get the real thing. You two can get acquainted.”

I opened my mouth to say something—I had several things to say, a whole list of things, beginning with what possessed him to do it in the first place—when the bell above the door jingled.

I reacted on pure instinct and snapped the lid shut, looking guilty as hell. I shoved the box under the counter. My elbow knocked into the register. I straightened up so fast my vision swam, folded my hands on the counter like a person who wasn’t trying to hide anything. Definitely not trying to hide anything huge or hot pink or veiny—and did I mention HUGE?

Marie, the owner of Sagebrush Diner from across the street, stood in the doorway, unwinding her scarf, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Oh good, you’re still open,” she said, already heading for the counter. “I just need a little something to get me through the rest of the night. Half my kitchen staff called out and I’m running on fumes and Christmas spirit—and the Christmas spirit is running low.”

“Of course,” I said in the voice of a completely normal person. “What can I get you?”

Behind Marie, Cole had not left. He was leaning against the wall near the door with his arms crossed and his shoulders shaking, trying very hard not to laugh out loud and failing miserably.

I shot him a look that I hoped communicatedyou need to get it together.

He responded by widening his smile.

“Large quad-shot vanilla latte, extra sweet,” Marie said, settling onto a stool. “And maybe a cookie if you have any left.”

“You’re in luck. I’ve got one left.” I turned to the pastry case. “Coming right up.”

I could feel Cole still standing there. I didn’t look. I refused to look. If I did, I would break into laughter.

“Merry Christmas, Marie,” he said pleasantly, finally moving toward the door.

Marie turned. “Oh, Cole! Merry Christmas, honey. Give my love to your mother. I know this time of year is tough on her.”

“Will do.” He pushed the door open, letting in a gust of cold December air, and looked back at me one last time. His eyes were dancing with glee.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” he said.

“Goodbye, Cole,” I said in a flat tone.

He grinned, gave me a small wave, and disappeared into the night.

Christmas came and went.

The way it always does in the Ledger house—loud and warm and overwhelming, everyone talking over everyone else.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s have always existed in their own strange pocket of time. The whole world seems to collectively agree to do absolutely nothing. I leaned into it fully, letting Lina manage the shop full-time until afterthe new year. She asked for more hours to catch up on holiday expenses, and with Sadie on Christmas break and wanting the same, I was more than happy to use it as an excuse to take some well-earned time off.

I watched an embarrassing amount of television. I reread two of my favorite books. I ordered takeout twice in one day and felt no remorse. I slept in until seven, which for someone who’s usually up at two or three in the morning felt amazing. Duchess, for her part, approved of the new schedule and spent most of it draped across my legs, but only if I didn’t pet her too much. She’s persnickety like that.

It was exactly the kind of reset I needed.

Now it’s the evening before Cole and I are going to the lake house to celebrate New Year’s Eve, and I’m restless.

Even though it’s after midnight, I’m on my couch in my favorite oversized sweatshirt with Duchess nestled in the crook of my knee and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the cushion beside me. I’m trying to read but cannot concentrate on a single word of the book in my hand.

I’ve read the same paragraph four times.

Duchess, sensing my frustration, opens one eye, looks at me, and closes it again.

“I’m fine,” I tell her, even though she doesn’t care.