Bree doesn’t seek me out often, so I drop the snowflakes back to the table. “Sure, let’s go to my office.”
I lead Bree through the back rooms. As I take a seat behind my desk, I wave my hand toward the opposite chair. Bree sits, tentatively perched on the edge.
“What’s up? Everything okay?” I ask, leaning my elbows on my desk. I can’t even fathom what’s brought her here. We haven’t really socialized one on one in quite some time.
Bree fiddles with her gloves. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” She lifts her chin to meet my curious gaze. “This is going to feel kind of awkward to say, and it probably feels like it’s coming out of left field, but I owe you an apology, Ro.”
“Whatever for?” I’m baffled.
“For…dating Mellie.” Her gloves fall onto her lap and she leans forward. “Last night, Mellie had a bit of a breakdown after she missed your meeting at the gazebo. She had one of those word vomit sessions that she does where things were just spilling out of her, and she mentioned the real reason why she left Blue Fields. Or rather, why she left in such a hurry.” She eyes me. “She told me about what you said to her. About you wanting to marry her.”
Ah, there it is.
“Bree, you don’t have to do this, it’s really fine.” I focus on the desk, swallowing the lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat. This conversation wasn’t one I expected to have, but it’s been years in the making. I don’t relish reliving the betrayal I felt, but it’s probably a good idea for us to clear the air at the very least.
“No, it’s not fine,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Ronin, I hadnoidea you felt that way for Mellie. I always wondered if you two would get together, orif either of you harbored feelings, but I never imagined it was anything that serious. If I had known, or even had an inkling of how you felt, I swear to you I would never have hooked up with her.” She reaches forward and grabs one of my hands to clasp between both of her small ones. “You’re my friend, too. One of my best friends, and I would never have hurt you intentionally. I’m really sorry.”
I cover our clasped hands with my free one and give her a small smile. “It’s okay, Bree. In truth, I wasn’t really upset with you, not specifically. I…found out about you guys dating in a way that I wish I hadn’t.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “A couple years ago, I went to LA. Mel doesn’t know. Nobody knew except Evan.”
Bree squeezes my hands. Her face is wary, like she knows where this is going.
“I saw you two. It was…hard to see you guys together.” I swallow. “But Mel and I—we weren’t even on speaking terms, and I know that you wouldn’t have hurt me intentionally, but I won’t lie and say it didn’t gut me.” I meet her watery gaze, my own eyes prickling with unshed tears. “It just didn’t feel like there was ever a good time to bring it up with you, and what was I going to say?‘Hey, by the way, I saw you kissing the woman I’m in love with?’”
A tear slips down Bree’s cheek. “Ronin…” She pulls her hands away to wipe her face. “I had no idea?—”
“How could you have? It was between me and Mel. I didn’t know if she’d told you or not. It didn’t matter in the moment because all I could think was that Mellie didn’t feel I was worth taking a risk on, butyouwere. That wasn’t ever your fault.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance that I don’t feel. The remnants of how I felt seeing them together echoes in my heart, and I tamp the feeling down. “I appreciate your apology, though. That means a lot, even now.”
“I don’t know what else to say except that I’m so sorry you were hurting. I love you, and I can’t imagine having to sit alone with this for all that time.” Bree wipes her face before shooting me an exasperated expression. “And okay, I’m sorry I’m about toinsult you after just apologizing, but you really are so thick sometimes. All men are, I swear. It’s half the reason I only date women.”
I blink. “Uh. Care to fill me in?”
“You can’t possibly believe that Mellie didn’t think you were worth the risk, or thatIwas and you weren’t? It’s the complete opposite, Ronin.” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “Mellie felt safe with me because we both knew it was a surface level relationship. There was never any chance that we would be anything serious. We were only ever meant to be friends, and I think deep down, we both knew that. But you?” Bree shakes her head. “Shit, Ronin. I don’t condone her running away, but I do understand why she was so fucking scared. You’ve never been just a best friend for her.”
Her words sink in, and my heartrate picks up.
“You two are endgame, Ronin. Like the kind of endgame that actually sticks. I think Mellie knew that and it terrified her. I’m not saying that it couldn’t have worked back then, but maybe, I don’t know, it’s a good thing that you both had this time to grow up. Maybethis time,if you let yourselves, you can get that chance to try.”
“Even if I were to believe all of that is true, it doesn’t matter now. Mellie’s only here for the holidays. She’ll be going back to California after New Year’s, and I’m—” I’m still struggling with that fact. “I’m just trying to deal with that.”
I just got her back. I can’t bear the thought of watching her leave again.
Bree shoots me a mischievous grin, and just like that, I feel like we’re okay again. “So, give her a reason to stay.”
Chapter Thirteen
MELLIE
The diner has been completely transformed since Mom and I were here yesterday morning for our coffee run. The tables have been moved to the sides of the restaurant, making more room in the center for guests to mingle. There’s a collection of long tables set up against one wall where we can place our cookies, so Mom and I head over as soon as we walk in.
Tinsel is draped over every surface, glittering gold and silver across tables and hanging off of chairs. Beautiful, glittery snowflakes attached to fishing wire hang from the ceiling beams, glimmering in the dim lighting. White tablecloths adorn each table, and my attention snags on the tiny, sparkling pieces of snowflake confetti sprinkled all over the surface.
I place my cranberry pistachio cookies next to Mom’s chocolate and peanut butter chip, arrange my recipe cards just how I want them in front of the tin, and take a step back to admire my work. Satisfied, I spin around to continue taking in the diner.
Over at the bar, someone has placed a large blackboard on the corner countertop, displaying the specials for the evening.Mistletoe Mojito, Dasher Daiquiri,andHoliday Hot Toddyare scrawled across the board in chalk paint, all in an array of holiday colors. Little drawings of holly and small trees border the sign. Whotook the time to write and draw this all with such care and detail?
Next to the sign, two large crock pots sit on the counter, plugged in somewhere behind the bar. I lean in to take a peek at one and catch a whiff of chocolate.
“Milk chocolate hot cocoa,” a voice says behind my ear, and I jump, startled.
