“Bums,” I mumbled, half asleep.
Saint chuckled, his breath warm against my hair.“They like me.”
“They like everyone,” I corrected weakly.
Saint’s hand moved over my back, slow and steady.“You should sleep,” he murmured.
“I can’t,” I admitted.
He kissed my temple.“Why?”
Because my brain never stopped.Because I’d spent weeks calculating debts and orders and time and money like it was life or death.
Because even now, with Saint holding me, I couldn’t forget what waited on the other side of Christmas.
I didn’t say any of that.
I just turned my face into his chest and let myself breathe him in.
Saint’s voice was quiet when he spoke again.“You’re coming to Christmas.”
The certainty in his tone made my chest ache.
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.“Yeah.”
He kissed the top of my head.“Good.”
I closed my eyes and let the warmth of him, the weight of my dogs, and the quiet hum of safety wrap around me.
For tonight, I could pretend the world wasn’t waiting to crush me.
For tonight, I could just be Belle.
And Saint’s arms around me felt like a promise I wasn’t sure I deserved but wanted anyway.
Chapter Eleven
Belle
Tuesday morning came too fast.
I woke up before my alarm went off, eyes wide in the dark, like my body knew it was the last push and decided to panic early.Pepper was sprawled across my pillow like he paid rent, and Salt was tucked against my calves, heavy and warm.Saint was next to me, snoring softly.For one quiet second, I let myself stay there, listening to their breathing and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Then the weight of everything hit.
Orders.Money.The calendar.The fact that by tonight, Cookie Haven would finally close its doors until after Christmas.
And the fact that I still did not know if I had enough.
I climbed out of bed slowly, careful not to wake Saint or the dogs, and padded across my apartment in thick socks.My reflection in the bathroom mirror looked like a woman who baked for a living and slept when she could.Messy bun.Puffy eyes.A faint smear of food coloring still somehow on my forearm.
I brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and tried to talk myself down.
Just one more day.
That was all.
One more day, and then I’d breathe.
