Page 31 of Back to December
I’ve somehow circled right back to nostalgia. And it always circles right back to me.
“No,” I admit. “I come here for Holden mainly. Last year, we actually went to Colorado.” Before they can freak out again, I hold up a hand. “I promise to disclose all of this later, but we’re running out of time if we want to make our dinner reservation.”
“What worries you the most?” Bridget asks.
Because, of course, she’s the one facing this with a business attitude.
“The most?” I think about my answer. “It’s a toss-up between worrying I’ll get bored and restless, and never wanting to leave. I don’t understand how that even works.”
“I think both can be true. But let’s face it, La. This place has a festival when someone sneezes and your boyfriend bakes.” Bridget laughs. “I don’t think boredom could exist here if it tried.”
I turn to Ella, eager to shift the attention away from myself. “Your turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did Mom insist that you oversee Holly’s wedding? Why are you here? Why arewe here?”
Bridget raises her hand in agreement. “Seconded. All that.”
Ella glances between both of us, then echoes my earlier words back to me.
“You won’t like it.”
“I could give you a dissertation on why I already don’t like it, Ella,” I say. “I think I’ve received at least one hundred variations of the same ‘remind her what’s at stake’ text. It’s ominous, and I’m exhausted, and I just want to know what’s going on.”
Holy moly, that feels better.
I didn’t realize how heavy that one subject was.
Ella looks like she wants to hide. Or fight someone. It’s a battle I know well—trying to be brave when you’re terrified.
“This wedding has to go off without a hitch,” she says quietly, “or I lose my parents’ farm.”
Her words hit like a punch, and the room tilts.
“What do you mean?”
“She has to sign it over to me,” Ella says. “I don’t have the money to dig into this. Luke and I poked around a little, but honestly—I can’t fight her. Even if I tried at this point without proof, she’d just tie it up in court. Just to be mean.”
Bridget mutters a word we don’t use around fairy godmothers. “Of course she would.”
It’s hard to breathe, like something is pressing on my chest.
“She stole so much from all of us,” I say. “She stole my life from me, too”.
“Was HoldenyourPacey?” Ella asks.
Bridget tilts her head, confused. But I’m following the conversation just fine. I teased her about Luke last week, overly referencing our favorite teen drama, Dawson’s Creek. And how Luke’s determination to fight for Ella remindsme a lot of Pacey Whitter. That fictional character set a high bar, what can I say?
I drop my head back and laugh. “That man doesn’t have a deviant bone in his entire body. He’s literally a golden retriever. His kindness and generosity know no bounds.”
“Like Peeta?” She raises her eyebrows.
Oh. That point feels like another gut punch.
Holden is absolutely like Peeta.
It’s probably a coincidence that I noticed him—like,reallynoticed him—after an intense fictional love affair with Peeta Mellark:the boy with the bread. He was my first true love, even if it wasn’t real.
