He wondered if she knew about Avery.
Was that why she was telling him this?
He wanted to ask, but something held him back.
Fear, probably. Fear of reliving his pain, of having to face it.
He looked at her, really looked.
She’d lost everything that mattered during the holidays. And yet, somehow… she’d found a way to love this time of year anyway.
He just wasn’t sure he could do the same.
“Anyway,” Cassidy said, forcing a lightness back into her voice, “that’s my sad backstory. But it was when I was in the hospital that my grand-maman introduced me to our family’s spiced cocoa. And the rest, like they say, is history.”
Liam didn’t say anything. He was too busy thinking how alike they were, both using lightness to soften the pain. He did it all the time.
They both knew what it was to lose someone suddenly and too soon, and to have Christmas forever marked by their absence. For every December 25th to feel bittersweet.
She was watching him, waiting for him to say something.
“Did your grand-maman teach you French? Or did you learn it in Paris? You’re fluent, right?” he asked finally, remembering what he’d heard from the locals.
Cassidy nodded. “J’ai adoré vivre à Paris… jusqu’au jour où je suis rentrée chez moi et j’ai trouvé mon petit ami au lit avec une autre femme.”
“Should I be concerned that sounded both beautiful and terrifying?”
“Paris was great… until I came home one afternoon and found my boyfriend in bed with another woman.” She gave a tight smile, then muttered under her breath, “Le salaud.”
“Loo saloo?”
She looked up at him, eyes glittering. “The bastard.”
Liam’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles cracking in his gloves. “Sounds fitting.”
Cassidy nodded. “Don’t worry, I got back at him.”
“How?”
“I took the espresso machine.”
“I highly doubt?—”
“Oh no, he loved that thing more than me.”
He let out a short laugh, but it faded quickly. She was joking, but he could see it in her eyes—the asshole had hurt her. Deeply.
Cassidy looked down, toying with the zipper of her coat, her breath catching before she forced herself to continue. “It shouldn’t still bother me, but it does. It wasn’t just that he cheated. He made me feel small, you know? Like every dream I had was silly. Like I was lucky just to be with him, and I should be grateful for the scraps of attention he threw my way. Every time I got excited about something—about a recipe or trying out a new flavor combination—he’d laugh, call it childish, tell me I didn’t have what it took.”
Her fingers tightened on the zipper, knuckles whitening. “And the worst part is, I believed him. For a long time.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. He hated knowing some smug, pretentious prick had made her doubt her worth.
She’d had her heart shattered by a man who didn’t deserve her, but she still believed in love and the goodness in people anyway. She loved fiercely, lived boldly, and didn’t let grief or betrayal make her bitter.
She was the kind of woman who would open her shop early if she saw someone waiting in the cold, who would deliver cocoa to the local snowplow crew before sunrise, who would remember your favorite chocolate even if you’d only mentioned it once. She faced the world with hope, even when it had let her down.
She deserved someone who saw that, whocherishedthat, who would protect her bright, unbreakable spirit instead of dimming it.
