Page 20 of Back to December
She’s wearing my old Frost Giants sweatshirt—the one I left spread across the bottom of the bed. It hangs off one shoulder, sleeves swallowed halfway past her hands, and it hits me harder than it should. I don’t know when shestarted borrowing my clothes again, but I’m not about to ask for them back.
It doesn’t take long for the kitchen to smell like cinnamon and sugar. She absently traces circles in the flour at the edge of the dough, like she’s doodling in the margins of a notebook.
“You look exhausted, honey,” I murmur.
She looks up, eyes soft. “I guess it’s a good thing you have connections: a best friend that deals in caffeine and a whole family that deals in sugar.”
“Technically, Quinn is Kenna’s best friend,” I say.
She shrugs. “Details. Once Upon a Brew is sort of home away from home.”
It was always where everyone hung out in high school, not that I had time to partake in the activities most high school kids did. But I made time when Laila asked, and I suppose it stuck.
“McKenna asked about you. Downstairs.”
“She’s probably worried about you,” she says. “I’m not usually here in the fall. I promise I won’t keep you from work.”
I stop rolling and plant both hands on the counter. “Kenna knows I’m an adult who can make my own decisions. She’s worried aboutyou.”
Laila blinks in surprise. “Me?”
“You’re not as covert as you think you are. Plus, rumors are already running rampant about your sister and Luke. Everyone is on guard, La. They know something is up.”
She’s quiet for a minute, likely processing everything I just said. I promised myself I’d give her more time to settle in before I prodded her for information, but between the extra work Vera dumped on me for Homecoming, Laila’ssurprise appearance, and the general stress that surrounds this time of year—well, it’s a lot.
“Mom pushed me to come here and help Ella.” She brackets the wordhelpwith finger quotes and sighs. “Ella doesn’t need help. I’ve seen the plans—it all looks perfect.”
“Come roll dough,” I say, offering her the rolling pin.
“You trust me with dough?”
“You’d be surprised what I trust you with. Besides, it’s a good way to work all this out while you talk to me.”
She pushes away from the counter and comes around to my side, and I hand her an apron—a holiday one with gingerbread all over it—and she laughs as I tie it around her waist. With renewed energy, she attacks the dough, rolling it with far more aggression than necessary. But I don’t say anything. I just watch. And listen.
“Technically, she didn’t tell me to come. She just made a lot of snide remarks, and my spidey sense told me I needed to intervene. I can’t figure out what Mom’s endgame is, but I don’t like the way she’s fixated onthiswedding. It’s not normal.”
“What’s not normal about it?” I ask.
There’s a soft furrow between her brows as she rolls and talks. Flour has somehow smudged her cheek, and she’s got more color than she’s had all evening.
“I don’t know,” she huffs out. “I’m used to the way she micro-manages everything, but this feels different. This is going to sound crazy, but it’s like shewantsElla to mess it up somehow.”
“Why would she want that, La?”
She smacks the dough with the rolling pin. “I don’t know.But I have a plan.”
I grin, despite the growing unease in my belly. “Of course you do.”
“I already told Ella, but I’m going to feed her a fake wedding.”
“A what now?”
She tucks stray hair behind her ear, and I see a flash of the girl I knew in high school. “Mom complained that the wedding is too small, and that since Gilded Vows is attached to Holly Everheart, it needs to be more grand. So, I’ll give her what she’s asking for.”
“That seems like a lot of extra work.”
She shrugs again—like it’s her go-to answer for everything at the moment.
