Page 29 of Back to December
I know where this is headed.
“Back to my bone to pick. Well, several bones, actually,” Ella says.
This would be a great time for the wardrobe in my room to pull a stunt like it did in Emma’s room before the Princess Pancake Breakfast at the farm last Saturday. While I’d happily accept a spontaneous ball gown, I’d also accept confetti. Or it could fling its doors wide and belt out some opera like in Beauty and the Beast.
I’d takeanythingto get attention of me.
Bridget’s reflection eyes us from the floor mirror she’s sitting in frontof.
“I get the feeling this is less about sisterly bonds and more about emotionally refereeing you two.”
I scoot away a bit from Ella, perched on the edge of the bed. “We’re fine.”
“You are not fine. Have you seen the bags under those eyes?” Bridget resumes applying her false lashes.
Ella thunks me in the shoulder, and I blink. “Did you just…thunkme?”
“That’s for not telling me about Sweet Treats.”
I blanch. “How do you know about that? It’s a secret,” I whisper.
“Annie told me. She was smitten with the photos you took for The Storybook Café and Second Star to the Right. I just asked the right questions—lots of them.”
Hearing it out loud feels strange, like someone’s just read my diary. Sweet Treats isn’t just an experiment; it’s my first genuine attempt at finding home in my own story.
“Wait.” Bridget sets down her eyelash glue and spins to face us. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t I know what you’re talking about?”
“It’s really nothing—” I start.
Ella hits me with a pillow. “You are such a liar! Since when do you keep so many secrets from us?”
“The social media thing is an experiment,” I say. “I honestly haven’t figured out what to do with it.”
“But when you told me at the bridal shop that you were thinking about leaving Gilded Vows, and that you needed to figure out the future of your social media, you didn’t mention you took a complete detour!” She huffs. “You’ve pumped me for every piece of information you can think of about Luke, and you’ve been holding out on me.”
Bridget’s mouth falls open. “That is allbrand new informationto me. I don’t know where to begin with that.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” I duck as Ella throws another pillow at me. “This is also the wrong way to go about a pillow fight.”
This earns me a frustrated shriek.
“Should I go call Luke and Holden? They might want popcorn and a front-row seat if that’s what you’re doing.” Bridget unfolds herself and winces when she stands. “I forgot how far away this place is.”
We both stop what we’re doing and turn to face her. My twin has a perfectly innocent look painted on her face, but Ella is suddenly catching on to what she said.
“Holden? What is she talking about?”
I calculate how fast I’ll need to run to make it to the door before my sisters. Considering how tired I am, I don’t think I can do it.
Bridget sighs. “Look, we need to finish getting ready, and Ella is going to beat around the bush. I don’t have the patience for it. Laila, tell the room how you feel about walking onto the porch at The Grotto tomorrow night for the rehearsal dinner. You’re going to be surrounded by floating candles, fairy lights, and unresolved tension with a very hunky baker tomorrow night. And…go.”
“You could really use more tact,” I tell her.
“Well, you need to finish getting ready, and we’re running low on time.” She shrugs. “Can I at least work on your hair while we discuss?”
“I don’t need to discuss anything,” I say. “It’s just dinner—not prom.”
Ella grabs another pillow, and I instinctively brace forimpact. “Don’t youdaretell me it’s complicated. I think I’ve got that covered in spades with enchanted letters and having a crush on the boy next door. And our famous bride, thinking I’mengagedto said boy—um, man—and then having to try ona wedding dressin front of him.”
