Page 2 of The Holiday Makeover

Well . . . sort of.

The thing about Tate was that the entire world could love him, but it was never enough.

I wasn’t enough.

“Sorry I’m late.” Tate’s gravelly voice drifted through the room.

Lily, being the best friend she was, sneered at him as if he’d tracked mud across the polished wood floor in her posh office. She was obligated to hate him. And, oh, did she ever. She could Tate bash like no other.

Regardless, I was a tad salty with her.

How had she not told me Tate was coming to this shindig? A heads‑up would’ve been nice. I might have done my hair instead of just throwing a beanie over my ash-blonde mop. I hadn’t even bothered with makeup.

Not that it would’ve mattered. I’d been crying buckets ever since the dreaded phone call informing me that Coco had a heart attack during her swing dancing class at the rec center last week. I thought she was going to make it, and so did her doctors, but she only lived long enough for me to fly in from Nashville and say goodbye to her.

Not that Tate hadn’t seen me at my grungiest. We’re talking dripping‑sweat, paint‑splattered, grease‑smudged grungy. Occupational hazards when you renovate houses together. But now I was his ex‑girlfriend, and there were rules. Rules like: At least pretend to be hot. I would’ve had to pretend a lot. I was more cute girl-next-door than smoldering temptress.

“Whatever,” Lily said unprofessionally. “Have a seat.”

She pointed to the chair next to me.

Would it be childish if I scooted my chair farther away? Probably.

Ugh.

You might have guessed—our breakup wasn’t the good kind. We didn’t even bother lying and saying we could still be friends. Oh, no. It was the How could you do this to me, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you variety. So this situation was a tad awkward. Like, hella awkward.

How could Coco do this to me? Actually, why had she done this? Was Tate in her will? That shouldn’t have surprised me—she and Grandpa had loved him like a son—but come on. He broke my heart. As in, shattered it. That should be an automatic will disqualifier.

Tate dropped into the seat beside me. His rich, cozy cologne—hints of cardamom and vanilla—wafted my way as if it had been personally weaponized. It was almost as if he’d done it on purpose. He knew how much I loved the way he smelled.

But I held strong and refused to look at him. Instead, I stared at a family photo on Lily’s desk—Lily and Shay, a popular dentist in town, with their adorable one‑year‑old twins, Jasper and Jamison.

I used to think Tate and I would have cute family photos like that one day.

Nope. Not going there.

“Hi, Rory,” Tate said, almost under his breath.

And a tiny part of me melted. Just a microscopic bit. There was something about my name on his lips. Lips that were . . . well . . . magical. We’ll leave it at that. Not that it mattered. He’d made his choice two years ago, and it hadn’t been me.

“Hi,” I mumbled back, because pretending he didn’t exist felt even more awkward.

Lily straightened in her chair. “Well, I’m sure you’re both wondering why you’re here. Together.”

Oh, I had questions. A whole buffet of them. But I only nodded, careful not to look to my right.

Lily gave me an uneasy smile. “First of all, Cosette wanted me to tell you she loves you both and hopes you’ll fulfill her last wish. She swears if you don’t, she’ll haunt you—and not in a Casper the Friendly Ghost kind of way.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Coco was a character. And the sweetest woman who ever lived. No way was she going to haunt anyone. Even Tate knew that and chuckled. I hated how much I missed that sound. But I couldn’t focus on that.

What was this last wish? I’d thought it was that she didn’t want a funeral. She’d made me swear before she passed that I wouldn’t have one for her. Coco hated funerals and said we’d had enough of them.

She wasn’t wrong.

First, my parents died when I was seven—a tragic plane crash, piloted by my mom. She’d been a private pilot for the rich and famous of Aspen Lake. Then Grandpa while I was in college. It was too much loss for one lifetime.

And now Coco.