Page 8 of My Rival for Christmas

“Hmm.” I take another sip to get a better idea. “Definitely in the top twenty, maybe top fifteen.”

She lets out an impressed whistle. “High praise.”

“Completely unbiased.” Then add, “Feel free to use it in one of your videos for this place.”

While I’m here to hide away and lick my battered wounds, Kylie is here to work. I know in the past when she’s gone on tripslike this, she’s been paid for at least a handful of deliverables. As a thanks for letting me tag along over Kevin, I told her she can put me to work, so I might as well start earning my keep.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Actually, that reminds me. I should get a video of the lobby.” She takes out her phone and starts to record. “Oh, I also booked us a reservation at their spa in one hour. I figure it would be a great way to get the travel grime off us and kick-start our relaxation vacation.”

God, I don’t even know if a thousand deep tissue massages would be enough to release the tension I’m carrying like oversized luggage on my body.

As Kylie films, I take in my new home for the next couple of days.

Hotels, at this point, feel more like home than my apartment. Being a professional figure skater has me constantly going from one competition to the next. Some local, some regional, and some international. So, I feel like I’ve been in my fair share of places to say this is one of the coziest, luxe resorts I’ve ever stayed in.

Everything about it makes me want to curl up on a couch near one of the fireplaces with this hot chocolate and watch internet videos on my phone.

I don’t even mind their Christmas decorations, and normally, I’m not a fan of how in your face people can be with them.

Kylie has told me it’s because me and my brother Austin are baby scrooges when it comes to the holidays, since they never meant anything to us growing up. But I like to think it’s because red and green are just very in your face colors.

But here, it’s like a winter wonderland explosion of creams and golds and silvers, playing with the rustic architecture of the building, and done up in a tasteful, mindful way that just looks part of the everyday decor of the setting.

Everything except for the large, expansive Christmas tree that sits dead center in the lobby, stretching all the way to the high vaulted ceilings, practically kissing the roof with its adornment on top.

That feels a little excessive, if you ask me.

But Kylieooohs andaaahs, under its bejeweled spell. I don’t even think she realizes she starts walking towards it.

I follow after, gently patting the pocket Snowball is burrowed into as I do. He rustles, silently demanding I go away.

Message received.

“This place is so pretty,” Kylie coos, and I nod along. It is. Even the ride up the mountain was beautiful, driving us through the town the resort resides in.

Sugar Peak Resort and Spa, located in Sugar Peak, British Columbia.

There’s something familiar about the town’s name, but it’s like an answer that sits on the tip of your tongue, only to be swept back into the shadows of your mind, escaping you.

“I mean, look at that view!” she continues.

A massive window encompasses the back wall of the room, giving everyone a breathtaking picture of the resort grounds—cabins that fork off on both sides, the ski lift already hard at work bringing guests up to the slopes, but it’s the snow-dusted mountains that the windows frame perfectly that really steal the show.

It’s like looking through a snow globe.

I’m hypnotized until Kylie gasps beside me, grabbing the arm not holding my hot chocolate, thankfully, or else it would’ve spilled everywhere this time.

“Oh my god, Paige. You’re never going to believe who’s here.” Kylie’s usually friendly tone takes on an edge I don’t often hear from her.

No. Something heavy and painful drops to the pit of my stomach, my mind only surfacing with one person.

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be Cole.

I just came all this way to escape the mess he didn’t have the decency to clean up.

“Who?” I’m not even sure I ask the question or if it just leaves in an exhale of anxiety.

But it’s not the name I think she’s going to say.

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