I looked at Ivy. “I just feel like I’m holding my breath. Every year. Like if I move too fast, the grief will catch me and swallow me whole.”
Her expression softened. “You miss them both, I understand.”
“I miss having someone who knew me before everything changed,” I whispered. “Before Mum got sick. Before the bakery became the only thing keeping me here. Before every December felt like… a reminder.”
Ivy slid her arm through mine. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
“I’m not alone,” I said, though the words felt fragile. “I have you.”
“And you have the entire town behind you,” she said firmly. “And… maybe someone else too.”
My chest tightened. “Don’t start.”
She raised her brows. “I’m not saying anything. But someone did show up at the meeting today.”
I looked away, heart stumbling. “We’re barely even friends.”
“That didn’t stop him from looking like he wanted to wrap you in a blanket and carry you out of that hall,” she muttered.
“Ivy.”
“Oh, come on,” she sighed. “You saw him. And he saw you, even if you couldn’t look at him.”
I pulled my hand away, rubbing my fingers together nervously. “Last night was… I don’t know what it was. And today–he caught me on a bad day, that’s all.”
“You’re allowed to have them.”
“Not when everything is riding on him,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Ivy stilled. “Bri?—”
“If he decides to sell the bakery…” My throat tightened painfully. “I will lose everything. My home. My livelihood. The place my family-built memories in with me. I can’t let myself get… distracted.”
“You're not,” Ivy said quietly. “You’re just enjoying yourself.”
“I can’t afford to,” I murmured.
Silence stretched between us, heavy as snowfall.
After a long moment, she squeezed my arm again. “Let’s get you home.”
We walked the rest of the way through the softly falling snow, the town glowing with fairy lights and warm windows. Pine Hollow looked beautiful, magical even, but grief has a way of softening even the brightest edges.
When we reached the door leading up to my flat. The bakery sign hung dark for the day, a reminder of all the reasons I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Memories to protect, bills to pay, a business to fight for.
A future to somehow salvage.
Ivy squeezed my arm as we reached the door. “You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I’m not pretending.” She gave me a look that unravelled that lie immediately. “Okay, maybe a bit,” I admitted.
We stepped inside my dim little entryway, the smell of cinnamon and sugar from yesterday’s baking still clinging to the walls. Ivy closed the door behind us, shutting out the chill. It felt safe here, now that my heart was swinging between panic and something softer, I didn’t want to name.
I shrugged off my coat and hung it on the hook. Ivy watched me closely.
“You know…” she said thoughtfully, leaning against the wall, “you could invite him.”
I froze mid–scarf removal. “Invite who?”
