by Alina Jacobs
“I don’t consider what you’re doing mooching.”
“I’m also not going to be my mother and just bounce from guy to guy, draining them dry.”
“You can hardly suck me dry,” I said, trying and failing to land a joke.
“Let's just have a nice brunch,” she said, smiling at me.
I tried to remain relaxed and pleasant, but inside, I was a wreck. Was that the deal? Here I was thinking we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, and this was what, an experiment to her? A bucket list item for Holly?
You’re acting paranoid and crazy. You just randomly put her on the spot, I told myself. She's stressed about the bake-off. Just drop it.
Walker was still asleep on the couch when Holly and I arrived back at my condo. Rudolph jumped up, tail wagging, and ran to me when he saw us.
“I took him out like three times last night,” Walker said, yawning. There was an entire half of a cake beside him.
“Did you eat all of that?”
“Hell no! Little elves came in and ate all of that! It was a full cake an hour ago.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let’s not point fingers about who ate what cake. Instead, we should be thanking Holly for all her help,” Walker said. “It definitely paid off. Greg has all the kids making Christmas ornaments showing the exact moment when Owen crashed into the water.”
67
Holly
I was sick with nervous energy the next morning. It was the final day of the bake-off. I needed to win—like really needed to win. Owen wasn’t going to want to be with someone who couldn’t manage a piddly little subscription baking business.
Worse, what if he thought I was only with him for the payday? I definitely had the means and motive. Shoot, if I was looking at the situation objectively, I clearly looked like a gold digger.
I paced around in front of the tower in the late-afternoon sun, hoping the cold would clear my head. But I couldn't stop thinking about Owen. I hadn't even decided what I was going to even bake.
“Ready to lose?” Amber said, jerking me out of my thoughts. She was dressed in a huge trench coat complete with sunglasses and a fedora.
“Ready to finally admit that you’re a creepy stalker and Owen is never going to be interested in you?” I retorted.
“He’s never going to be interested in you either,” she said slyly. I narrowed my eyes. Amber pulled her tablet out of her bag, swiping the screen on.
“Take a look at that!”
There on the screen was Sloane and Owen kissing at the TechBiz holiday party.
“I’ve seen her do that before,” I said, though it did sting a little. “She’s after him. Just like you. I don’t hold him accountable for your actions.”
Amber pouted. “But he won the contest. The only reason he won was because Sloane pulled strings for him. And the only reason she would do that is because he’s sleeping with her!”
“That’s very convoluted,” I said, rolling my eyes. Inside I was thinking, Could it be true?
No.
“I helped him win.”
“Did you though?” Amber said. “You what, organized a half-cracked winter festival, and you think that was enough to win him the contest? Honestly, Holly, you are so naïve. You always were. Living in your Christmas fantasyland, watching your Hallmark movies, reading your holiday romance novels in the middle of August. Men like him don’t want girls like you.”
“They don’t want girls like you either!” I shot back, hurt.
“I know,” Amber said nastily. “And if I can’t have him, I’m going to make sure no one can.”
“Welcome to the final episode of The Great Christmas Bake-Off!” Anastasia announced. “For those of you watching on Christmas Eve when this airs, Merry Christmas from everyone here at the Great Christmas Bake-Off. We hope you're inspired by these amazing Christmas desserts.”
Owen sat, back straight, at the judges’ table. I still felt bad for getting snippy over brunch yesterday. But seeing Owen had given me the flash of inspiration I needed. I was going to make a dessert inspired by the Christmas lights Owen had taken me to see after the gala.
I didn’t want to do something hokey like make cupcakes festooned with icing lights, though I was definitely going to do that whenever I got a chance to host another holiday party—which, since I was going to have to move out of the penthouse today, might be Nevuary.
No, I was going to bake something very delicate and light, with little bits of spun sugar. It was going to float in a sugar crystal lattice. The lattice was going to be a three-dimensional snowflake, and when someone looked at it from a certain angle, it would look like a house. Otherwise it was a beautiful form to hold morsels of little tarts and custards and tastes of sauces or a chocolate truffle. Inside, I was going to put tasty bites.
I made the lattices first, since I knew they needed time, and I didn’t want to rush and break anything. Because the sugar needed to be clear and icy, I didn’t heat it up too much. It took some time to carefully cut out all the little pieces and glue them together with melted sugar. The pieces of sugar were faceted like a diamond so that they caught the light. The dish should sparkle like fresh snow.
When I was done, I had four perfect snowflakes. I carefully cemented them to the plate with bits of white chocolate to hold them down. Then I made the decorations. There would be a mix of flavors and textures along with bright pops of color for visual interest. I made a bright-red hibiscus reduction, a glossy caramel, and a rich chocolate sauce and set them in the fridge. I could not have anything hot on the snowflakes.
Next I made several chocolate truffles and rolled some in purple lavender sugar and others in cinnamon and vanilla sugar. They glittered like gemstones. Next were salted caramels, the French sea salt providing the sparkle.
I also baked miniature chocolate, pear, and custard pastries. They were small, with thin, flaky crusts, and could be eaten in one bite. Finally, I candied flower petals and little pieces of fruit to provide even more sparkle and interest.
As I took my sauces out of the fridge, I looked at the clock. I had just enough time left to plate. I carefully composed each dish, sinking into the zone, making sure each snowflake was unique but still had a balance of flavors. I wanted them each to be different but not too different.
But not too different. Was that what was wrong with Owen and me? We were too different? He had the fancy cars and a huge company and lots of money. Maybe Amber and Sloane were right: maybe a man like Owen would never see a future with someone like me.
68
Owen
After the camera guys took the footage they needed of the judges watching the opening of the contest, I took one last look at Holly then stood up from the judges’ table.
Anu and Nick remained to watch, but I felt compelled to leave. Holly had seemed angry and annoyed that morning. Was it something I did? I’d thought I had a nice evening planned the night before, but maybe she would have rather gone to a play or a nice restaurant. Had I come across as cheap?
Maybe she was just nervous.
I went up to my office. The Christmas decorations Holly had hung up greeted me. I wished Holly was there too. That morning, she had said she wanted to go to Paris. Surely she didn’t mean it. But what if she did?
“Someone’s mopey,” Walker said, strolling in. He had a huge piece of cake in his hand.
“I’m surprised you can even fit through the door.”
“I went for a six-mile run today with a weight vest.”
“Right.”
“So I hear you’re hosting a holiday party.”
“Lies and rumors.”
“That’s not what my brother Liam says. Jack told everyone to be at your condo on the twenty-fourth. And let me just say that I am expecting a cookie with my face on it.”
Holly had seemed nervous before the contest, which she normally never was. But when I returned to the studio later in the day, she seemed to be in her element. She was carefully plating her dish, bala
ncing each element.
“I see you brought the Christmas bling!” Anu said when the plates with the snowflakes were set in front of us.
“Did you 3-D print this?” I asked.
“Nope. Handmade it. Took forever!”
“It looks so good,” Nick said, turning the plate this way and that to catch the light.
“I was inspired by the Christmas lights,” Holly explained. My heart melted a little bit as she smiled softly at me.
Fiona was next. “Since it’s Christmas, I made a dessert inspired by The Nutcracker,” she explained.
I inspected the dish.
“Astonishing,” Anu said.
Fiona had made a white chocolate egg and decorated it like a Fabergé egg. She had carefully removed a piece of the shell. Inside was a scene made out of formed sugar, cakes, little mousses, and chocolate that was very reminiscent of a scene from The Nutcracker ballet. It had the Eastern European elements.
“The Sugar Plum Fairy scene, if I’m not mistaken,” Anu said. She took a dainty bite. “And you can taste the plum.”
“This chocolate pot de crème is just so smooth and perfect,” Nick gushed. “This is a Michelin-star-level dessert!”
“Thank you so much for this!” Anu said, giving a little bow to Fiona.
“Wow, what a way to end the season, huh,” Nick said. He and Anu looked at each other.
“What?” I snapped. “Both of them had great desserts.”
Anu took a deep breath. “Fiona’s was probably better.”
Dana came over, making a cutting motion to Zane.
“Look,” she said to me, “Fiona needs to win.”
“Why?”
“Everyone knows you’re sleeping with Holly.”
“I’m in a relationship with her,” I insisted.
“Whatever. We can’t have bad press about this. People really dug the romance, but there will be a Christmas bloodbath if they think the contest was rigged because Holly slept with a judge. She can have the fan-favorite award, and Fiona wins. Everyone is happy. No one is lambasted on social media.”
I glowered.
“You and Jack,” Dana said, shaking her head. “If you all weren’t so handsome, I’d never have another Frost brother on this show.”
I dreaded having to tell Holly the news. She handled it very professionally when Anu told Fiona that she’d won. Somehow that made me feel even more like a piece of shit.
Holly hugged Fiona, clearly struggling to hold back tears and smile for her friend.
“You deserved it,” she whispered.
“Thank you, everyone, for another Great Christmas Bake-Off,” Anastasia said, “and everyone have a Merry Christmas!”
I was not having a merry anything if Holly was mad at me. I turned in the microphone then hung around for the postcontest interviews, hoping I didn't miss Holly. I saw her hurrying away after filming was over.
“Wait!” I called out to her.
“I have some stuff to do. I’ll talk to you later,” she said, trying to move around me.
I felt like shit. I should have insisted she win. That was what a good boyfriend would have done.
“Stop looking so guilty,” she snapped. “I don’t need you to just hand me stuff because you feel sorry for me. I’m a big girl. I can handle some disappointment. Fiona's dessert was better than mine. I'm a chef. I know what quality is. Hers was better. Someone wins, someone loses. I would have made the same choice. That’s the way the cookie crumbles.”
69
Holly
I couldn’t freaking believe it. I’d lost. Not just the contest but everything. When the judges announced that Fiona was the winner, I realized the weight of my loss would ripple into an implosion of epic proportions. I tried to keep it together in front of the cameras as my world crumbled around me.
What was I going to do? I had no money. I hadn't paid off my debt. My grandmother's decorations were going to be auctioned off in the next few days because I couldn't make the payment. I was a cold, hard failure. Again. I should really take down the webpage that had the sign-up for the subscription baking box, since I had nowhere to bake it. I didn't even have anywhere to live. I needed to find a job though, like right now. But all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and drink a gallon of hot chocolate and watch Christmas movies.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry you lost,” Fiona said, running to hop into the elevator with me after I blew off Owen.
I didn't want his pity. He'd just spent all that money on me. Any sob story I gave him would just make it seem like I was begging for more handouts.
“It’s fine. Your dessert was awesome; you deserved the win,” I assured her. We rode upstairs in silence. I felt bad that Fiona felt bad for winning.
“Are you going home for Christmas?” she asked.
“With Amber? No way. I don’t know where I’m going,” I admitted.
“Come stay in my apartment! You can use the obnoxiously tiny kitchen to bake the rest of your subscription boxes,” Fiona said, grabbing my hand.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on! It’s Christmas. It’s the season of giving,” she said as we stepped off the elevator. “I would love to have you.”
Owen called me. I sent it to voicemail.
“Or you could just move in with your boyfriend,” she said slyly.
“I don’t know, I’m not really the moocher type,” I replied as Fiona unlocked the door.
It opened before she could pull the handle. Morticia stood there.
“Dana said we have to be out in one hour. Apparently Owen wants his penthouse back.”
I looked around at all the Christmas decor. “We have to take all this down?” I asked, starting to panic.
Morticia snorted. “You can if you want to.”
I didn't.
I ignored the text messages and other calls from Owen while I hastily packed.
“You can come back to Harrogate with me,” Morticia offered.
“You're going back now?”
“In a few days.” Her face softened, and she hugged me, the buckles on her jacket poking me. “You'll be fine. It's like American Idol. Everyone likes the runners-up better.”
I groaned and lay down on the bed. Morticia pushed me aside and stripped off the sheets.
“Come on,” she said. “I had to order an extra-large Uber to fit all your stuff. They're going to be here soon.”
A half hour later, Fiona, Morticia, and I had hauled out all my possessions, which mostly consisted of my costumes, baking supplies, and the Christmas decorations from my grandmother I had managed to keep out of the soon-to-be auctioned storage unit, outside to the Uber.
I looked back up at the tower to where Owen's office was. His light was still on. I could tell it was his because of all the garland I’d hung on his balcony. I should go up and talk to him. That would have been the adult, mature thing to do. Instead, my friends and I rode across town to Fiona's tiny but very cute apartment.
“Wine,” Fiona ordered, setting a box on the coffee table after we set all my stuff by the door. “You need wine and sugar.”
“I think I'm all sugared out.”
“Nope,” Fiona said and stuffed a mini chocolate cupcake into my mouth.
“That so good,” I said through the mouthful of icing.
We drank boxed wine and sat on the couch, watching The Muppet Christmas Carol. That segued into Elf, another box of wine, Christmas-cookie-flavored Lay’s potato chips (which were a terrible idea), and then we rounded off the evening with The Polar Express. I fell asleep with the nightmarish, animated, uncanny-valley face of Tom Hanks as the conductor.
70
Owen
I didn’t know what to do about Holly. She wasn't answering my calls or returning any of my messages. In a fit of desperation, I dressed up Rudolph in a doggie snowman costume and sent her a picture, but not even that earned a reaction. She must be furious at me.
I was playing fetch with Rudolph when my sister, Belle
, let herself into my condo.
“Your penthouse upstairs is cleared out,” she said. “They left the decorations up, since apparently you're volunteering to host a large Christmas party.”
“I was voluntold to do it,” I grumbled. “I thought Holly was going to help.”
“Ah, I see. You're dating her so she'll throw parties and cook for you.” Belle gave me that look that older sisters give their younger brothers when they feel they've been complete idiots and they're stunned their brother can even function.
“You make it sound bad,” I complained. “I appreciate her for other stuff too.”
“So she cooks, throws parties, and sucks your dick wearing those ridiculous outfits. Does she clean as well?” Belle asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.
“It's not like that!” I protested. “I bought her a very nice dress.”
“And yet she's not here. I'm shocked.”
“She's busy.”
“The bake-off is over,” Belle reminded me.
I was deflated. “So I fucked up.”
“Who knows, but probably,” Belle told me. “You're kind of an asshole sometimes, Owen.”
I knew Belle was referencing when my parents had refused to pay her university tuition. She had gone to community college and worked nights. Then she had paid my Harvard tuition because our parents refused. She’d also paid for my younger brothers’ schooling by day trading and working contract coding jobs. She had lived at home until Oliver, my youngest brother, was out of the house.
I didn't realize that was what had happened until later. I should have done more to get Belle out of our parents’ house. She was my sister after all. But she was my big sister, and she always seemed to have her shit together. I’d assumed if she wanted to leave, she would have. But she had stayed to help take care of my younger brothers and be a buffer between them and our parents. As soon as Oliver was in college, she’d split.
