“Copying my order is an improvement from the last time we ate together.”
“What are you talking about?” He shifts in his seat.
“You don’t remember stealing my food on our one and only date?”
“No, I don’t remember being a thief.”
“Oh, come on. You really don’t remember telling the waiter you didn’t want dessert and then proceeding to eat half of my crème brûlée.”
“Oh, you mean eating the dessert you ordered for us to share after I was a gentleman and let you order for the table?”
“What?” I gasp. “It wasn’t to share.”
“I’m a little offended,” he jests. “You’ve seriously thought for four and half years that I stole your dessert that night.”
“You did steal it.”
“The waiter brought twospoons.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Then where did the spoon come from?” He chuckles and lifts his brow.
“I can’t believe we’re arguing about this.” I run my hands through my hair. “We have such bigger problems.”
“You can admit I’m right.” He smirks.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself, but I think you’re going to start to realize I’m right about a lot of things. Like how I think you need to fall?—”
“Don’t.” I hold up a finger. “That’s not how we’re going to get home.”
His face falls slightly before he sips his latte and clears his throat. Playing with the handle of my coffee mug, I contemplate our morning. The house. The wedding rings on my finger. The meeting. His insistence on us falling in love.
“Any ideas on how we get out of here then?” he asks.
A long sigh falls past my lips, and my head hits the back of the bench seat. “No, I was hoping Stella would be more helpful than she was.”
“Maybe I am right.” Everett huffs out a laugh as he looks down into his mug.
“Nice try, but if that was the case, I think love would’ve been mentioned.”
“It was mentioned. Remember?”
“No.”
“She said it’s the Sugarplum Park way to love one another.”
“I don’t think that’s what she meant.” I bite my lip. “What did she say after the meeting? Something about the key to it all being something.”
“Oh, when she was talking about judging the competition on Christmas Eve? I think something to the effect of giving into the magic and leaning into the spirit of the town.”
“Any idea what ‘spirit of the town’ means?” I ask, moving my head from side to side.
My phone chimes, and I look down to see a text.
The Naughty List
