But it was Christmas Eve, and she wouldn’t think about him anymore. He was gone, never coming back, and so she would put him behind her, too.
This time, there would be no magic to help her bake. She didn’t want it. Didn’t need its help. What had the magic of this house really helped her do besides show some memory-preserved recipes, a sad love story, and that love is cursed? She mixed the cake batter without a lick of magic, even hand-poured her own extracts, and opened the drawers on her own.
After about the third or fourth offer from the house, and Eliza’s refusal for help, it seemed to get the hint. She wanted to be left alone. Completely.
She just hoped the house wasn’t offended enough for the oven to not work.
She placed the first round of cake batter inside, and didn’t know she had been holding her breath. She was waiting, staring into the oven for several seconds.
Surely, something else is bound to go wrong tonight, she thought. But it never did.
She absentmindedly pulled the first cake out of the oven when it was done and set it aside to cool before pouring the batter into the pan and repeating the process. Add theingredients into a bowl, stir, and pour into a pan. Add the ingredients into a bowl, stir, and pour into a pan.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
She didn’t want to think. Only wanted to bake a cake ten stories high if she had to. If that’s what it took to forget.
Her hands and face were coated with flour and sugar, and for a moment, she could feel his hands brushing hers. The warmth of his laugh, the way they threw heaps of flour at each other, and the warmth in Eliza’s chest as he leaned in to kiss her.
And the way he looked at her … It was like she was the only person in the world.
How could that have only beenlast night?
Everything changed in a day. Not even a full twenty-four hours.
Now, nothing would be the same again.
Nope. She wouldn’t think of him. Wouldn’t allow him space to tear her heart apart again.
She decided to check her phone. When all else failed, some mindless scrolling always did the trick, right? Four texts from Piper, two from mum, and one from Gretel.
Christmas morning tomorrow at your place? We’d love a round two of the snowball fight if you’re down!
Eliza read the message, and read it again, her throat aching. She backed out of the text thread, not emotionally ready to respond to her friend just yet.
She’d failed. The cottage’s curse had won. Eliza just wasn’t ready to admit it, yet.
She checked the messages from Piper.
did you build a snowman today and watch it come to life?
what’s next, a reindeer with a glowing nose?
i just don’t understand how you’re so lucky.
HAVE YOU GUYS KISSED YET
So much for some mindless scrolling.
She needed to bake. Thinking would come later.
Eliza resumed building the cake layer by layer, laying the cake and then spreading the cream cheese on thick. The process was almost as mindless as the first portion had been, except she allowed her mind to wander back to her nan. Back to simpler times, when the only worries Eliza had was getting batter on the table because she wasn’t quite tall enough to see over the counter.
She embellished the finished cake with vanilla curls, letting them fall onto the top of the finished dessert like snow. Then, she stepped back to admire her work. It was almost too beautiful to eat.
But when Eliza went to take the first bite, she didn’t even worry about slicing off a piece. She dug her fork right in, ruining the wondrous work of art, and scooped up the biggest bite she could muster.
Upon taking that first bite, she remembered her nan’s giggle, crisp and jovial. Suddenly, it was so sharp in her mind that it brought tears to Eliza’s eyes. Not sad ones, as they usually were when she thought of her nan. These were happy ones. Ones that spoke of the years of happiness and wisdom her nan had lived. The legacy she left behind in both love and sugar.
