“The bread is at the Busy Bee, of course,” Bree says.
If only I had the dough to cover rent.
Ella chuckles. “That’s nothing. I was going to wake up with the sun for three hundred and sixty-five days straight and take a morning walk, rain or shine, and build up to being able to run the Popcorn 5K. I bought the cutest workout clothes. They’re still in my drawer with tags on.”
“I bet they look very accomplished in there,” Juniper teases.
“Getting up that early is not all it’s cracked up to be,” Heidi says, joining us on an air of perfume rather than her typical scent, which she lovingly refers to as “Eau de bébé.”
“I like waking up early.” I jiggle my jaw since my ears are still blocked from the flight.
Bree shakes her head. “Woman, four a.m. isn’t civilized, especially when you never take a day of rest.”
If only that were possible. If I don’t keep the ovens on, I’m afraid the electricity will be cut off. It’s quite theCatch Twenty-two.
“I resolved to organize our house, starting with the spice rack,” Jess adds, explaining her resolution from last year. “I bought matching containers and used exactly two. Now I have empty jars judging me from the kitchen cabinet.”
Laughter follows, and I offer some helpful organization suggestions. They all turn to me expectantly, waiting for my resolution. I fidget with the hem of the dress Bree practically forced me into, like a toddler—a sparkly gown in a shade of bluish-white she calls “ice.” She said the color brings out my eyes, but mostly just makes me feel like I’m playing dress-up.
“No resolutions.” I shrug because the debt looming over my head needs all my focus. Then, to my surprise and possibly theirs, since I only just thought of this now, I add, “Maybe just a word for the year.”
“What’s that?” Jess asks.
Heidi explains, “Instead of committing to a resolution, a word of the year acts like a compass, something to use to guide you through the days and months.”
“Ooh, fun. What word?” Margo asks.
Biting my lip, it’s as if it comes to me on the spot. “Rise. Like ... rising to challenges. Being better. You know?”
Like bread dough rising in the warmth.
Like my business rising above the lease renewal and debt strain.
Like maybe, possibly, rising above the safe little world I’ve built for myself. I should probably take some days off now and then. Get out more. That kind of thing. A sigh from deep inside sisses out of me.
“I love that. Simple but powerful.” Juniper nods approvingly.
“Okay, but the real question is who is our girl Nina going to be kissing at midnight?” Bree asks.
That’s when I realize with stark clarity this whole trip isrevenge. She’d claim that I pushed her into a mail-order marriage with her nemesis, Fletch, who, I might add, turned out to be the exact right man for her. But she’s getting back at me!
However, I can‘t be overly mad at her right now. She’s in love and that was a long time coming.
“No doubt there will be some very attractive men at the party tonight,” Leah coos.
My stomach tightens. “You know my rule about hockey players.”
“Right, the promise to your dad.” Bree rolls her eyes. “Which you still won’t explain properly.”
“Some promises have to be kept,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
The truth is more complicated than that. Papa’s warnings about hockey players—chorus like a refrain in my mind—about the lifestyle and about men who think their sport makes them special. About how Mom fell for all of that and couldn’t handle the reality. But my friends don’t need to hear about old family drama.
“Wait. Who is your dad?” Delaney asks.
Before I can reveal his identity—a rarity in our world for people not to know about the legendary Viggo Bruun, especially since we all live in Hockey Town—Leah supplies, “There will be plenty of non-hockey players there too, including that hypnotist Bree’s been obsessing over.”
She protests. “I am not obsessing. I’m just ... intrigued.”
