CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I now understand the saying ‘Running around like a chicken with its head cut off’.
It’s Sunday the twenty-third of December—Hugh’s last night in Canada. Yesterday was the Village’s final day of operation for the year. I don’t normally work Saturdays, but they needed as many people as possible on hand. Knowing it was my last day, plus a short one with operation shutting down early, I didn’t mind.
After work, I’d intended to hit the shops to get some last-minute errands done, but Meredith had found me as I was leaving and told me a bunch of people were going out for dinner and drinks. Even though there’s a big party for everyone at the Village tonight, I couldn’t say no to extra time with the people who had come to mean so much to me over the last few weeks.
Unfortunately, that meant I had to brave the shops today. I say ‘brave’ because apparently half the city had also left things until the last minute. I was pushed, prodded, and almost trampled in every store I went to, including the grocery store.
All of that took twice as long as expected, which means I’m now dashing around my apartment getting ready for the party. This past week has been a blur of working all day at Quest, followed by my usual nightly elf duty, and mostly-sleepless nights with Hugh. After our first night together, Celia informed us in an oh-so-casual voice that she had bought a pair of heavy-duty earplugs and would be wearing them to bed from now on. I could have kissed her. Instead, I kissed every inch of Hugh that night and the next and the next…
Celia is lounging on the couch watching me with barely contained amusement as I scurry around the apartment. I’m currently half dressed; I’ve been waiting to put my top on because I’m going to wear the wool sweater Celia gave me, and I don’t want to put it on a moment sooner than necessary. I found a lightweight shirt to go under it, which I’m hoping will be enough separation from my skin to prevent another allergy attack.
I’m in the bathroom attempting to corral my hair into some sort of updo when there’s a knock on the front door. Letting my hair drop, I sprint into the hallway, waving to Celia to sit back down as she starts to get up.
“Umm, Ivy?” She gives me an over-exaggerated wave back and points to my chest. I’m still only wearing a bra.
“It’s just Hugh,” I tell her. She slides back onto the couch and I open the door to a grinning Hugh. His smile grows and his eyebrows arch up near his hairline when he sees my half-undressed state.
“Well hello,” he says in a low voice. He swoops forward and gathers me in his arms, showering me with kisses. I let out a squeal as he nips at me, then pulls back to plant a kiss on my lips.
Celia gives a loud “Ahem” from across the room. “Roommate present. Roommate who spent an hour getting ready and refuses to be late for this party.”
Hugh kisses me again before releasing me and smiling over my shoulder at Celia. “Duly noted. And you look lovely.”
I follow his gaze to Celia. In the dozen or so times I’ve passed her in the last hour, I never took in her appearance. She’s wearing a pair of slim-fit black pants and a pretty red sweater that compliments her black hair. I’m not used to seeing Celia wear anything other than dark colors, except for her Grooge costume the last few weeks, which doesn’t count. Even more surprising is the fact she’s wearing eye makeup and a shade of lipstick that matches her sweater. She looks beautiful.
Her cheeks redden, and I realize Hugh and I are both staring at her.
“Jeeze, was I that bad before?” She crosses her arms over her chest and averts her eyes. She’s been better lately at reining in the snark, but it still comes out when she’s annoyed or defensive.
“Of course not.” I cross the room and lean over the back of the couch, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I think part of me still thinks of you as a kid and now I see you’re actually a woman. A beautiful woman.”
The tense muscles under my hand loosen slightly. She clears her throat and peers at me over her shoulder. “It’s about time you noticed,” she says, her voice soft and snark-free. She offers me a small smile. She’s trying, and I love her for that.
“I like your lipstick,” I tell her.
She presses her lips together. “It’s not too much? I feel kind of weird wearing it.”
“No, it suits you.”
Her cheeks flush again, this time in pleasure. “Bridget was wearing this shade the other day and I asked her about it. She said it was called Mistletoe Kiss and she thought it would look great on me. I wasn’t planning on actually trying it, but I saw it in the store and figured why not?”
I suppress a smile. Last year, Bridget had complimented a stranger wearing that exact shade of lipstick. When Bridget said she could never pull off such a bold color herself, the woman had given Bridget her new tube of lipstick, assuring her she could rock it if she had the confidence. It’s been her favorite shade ever since. I can’t believe that was a whole year ago. So much has happened since then.
“You look all dreamy and far away,” Celia says, breaking into my thoughts. I focus on her just as her eyes dart to Hugh and then back to me. She likely assumes I’m thinking about the fact he’s leaving tomorrow. I’ve been tryingnotto think about it. “Go finish getting ready,” she says. “Your nips are going to pop out of that bra any second and that’s an image I’ll never be able to unsee.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”
I’m halfway to my room when I hear Celia quietly say, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Skidding to a halt, I stay where I am, straining my ears to hear Hugh’s reply.
“Not necessary. I’ve believed in you from the moment you came barreling into my office last month. I know you’ll do great things.”
“Still. You have no idea what this means to me. Ivy is the only person who’s been willing to take a chance on me. To have you in my corner now too…” Her voice trails off. It almost sounds like she’s fighting tears. “I won’t let you down.”
My curiosity gets the best of me. I whirl around and go back down the hall. Hugh is standing at the end of the couch and Celia is where she was when I left a minute ago. Hugh sees me first; his eyes flick to Celia, who glances over her shoulder.
