Page 52 of The Holiday Makeover

“So, is she getting her way?”

I let out a long breath. “That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I’m being tortured by my charming ex.”

Eden leaned back in her chair. “Oh, the charming ones are the worst.”

I tilted my head. Was she talking about her ex-husband? How could he be charming? He’d cheated on her with her best friend. I was admittedly very curious. “You sound like you speak from experience,” I said as casually as possible, hoping she’d spill something.

Her eyes darted all over the café as if she were checking for spies before she leaned in and whispered, “My daughter, Sophie, has become best friends with my first love’s daughter, Poppy.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “That is interesting.”

“To say the least. I mean, I’m not in love with Shane Wells anymore. We dated in high school and college,” she rushed to say. “It’s just . . . he’s still lovely.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, leaning away. “Anyway, you don’t need to hear about my issues. Let’s talk food.”

Honestly, I did want to hear about them, but I didn’t want to be too nosy. I barely knew her. But . . . a vague memory of her and Shane tickled my brain. I think when I was in junior high school, they won some big dance competitions together. Yes, he was her dance partner once upon a time. Cute.

But poor Eden. I knew all about the power of a first love. It’s like the superglue of loves—hard to remove. And even if you manage to, it leaves a mark. Tate was my first love. Not my only love. I had a couple of others along the way, but none of them held a candle to how I felt about Tate.

“So, what kind of food did Coco usually serve at her parties?” Eden asked, pulling me out of my deep thoughts.

“Uh, well . . . let’s just say it was eclectic. Full seventies retro. Spiked eggnog, log rolls, meatballs on a stick, and Watergate salad—Coco’s pride and joy. Grandpa staged a full intervention to get her to stop making it. She claimed pistachio Jell-O was a ‘national treasure.’”

Eden giggled uncontrollably. And I joined in. Coco really was something.

When she finally got her laughter under control, she said, “What if we do like seventies chic? I’ll put a modern spin on the classics.”

“I love that. Coco would love that too.” My voice warbled.

“Perfect.” Eden smiled. “How about I put together a menu this weekend and then send it to you for approval?”

“That sounds great. I can’t thank you enough.”

She reached out and took my hand. “It’s my pleasure. Good luck with your charming ex.”

Oh, I was going to need more than luck. It was a Christmas miracle I was after. I was praying that Santa and those herald angels came through. No doubt Coco was already harassing them.

Chapter Eighteen

Rory

“There you are.” Tate grinned mischievously as he took my free hand the second I stepped into the mudroom from the garage.

My other hand was clutching a takeout bag from the café. Considering the kitchen was mostly demolished, bringing home prepared food felt like the responsible, adult thing to do. And you better believe there was a cinnamon pie in there. Also, takeout meant Tate and I didn’t have to venture out together just yet.

I needed more time with just us to sort out my feelings. To see if we could actually make this work.

Judging by what Eden said, I knew the rumors were already flying. People were probably wondering if we were back together. What drove us apart in the first place. Whether I was a doormat for taking back a cheater. Fun questions like that.

“What are you up to?” I asked, suspicious. Very suspicious.

I’d seen that grin before, and while most times I enjoyed what came after, there had been . . . incidents.

Like once in college, I’d somehow ended up at a heavy metal concert with him and gotten swept into a mosh pit. Tate had to physically extract me like I was a damsel in distress. Admittedly, I was distressed. Some woman—who had to be a competitive bodybuilder—had lifted me above her head by the time he reached me. I still shuddered thinking about it. Tate, on the other hand, probably still chuckled about it in the shower.

Tate didn’t respond to my inquiry. He just kept giving me that sneaky grin as he pulled me through the demolition zone otherwise known as the kitchen.