Page 98 of The Holiday Makeover

I had called Lily and asked her to come over for emotional support.

And food.

Mostly food.

I was starving, and Tate was currently occupying the same floor as the microwave, mini-fridge, and snacks. I didn’t trust myself to have a conversation with him yet. Or look at him. Or smell him. Or watch him be all remorseful and beautiful while building things with his hands.

The one time I had attempted to sneak downstairs—thinking he’d left to get supplies or something—I’d caught him watching old clips of us and crying.

Which made me cry.

Okay . . . and giggle.

Especially because Taylor Swift was playing in the background. I’d had no idea that Tate was a closet Swiftie.

I leaned back against my childhood headboard and shoved a large forkful of pad thai into my mouth.

“Tell me about the ring,” Lily said, taking a delicate bite of a fried spring roll as she sat cross-legged on the bed facing me.

I finished chewing and swallowed inelegantly. I was so hungry, I couldn’t get the food in fast enough.

“Why does it matter what the ring looks like?”

“Uh, because.”

She held up her hand, showcasing the gorgeous heirloom diamond ring that had once belonged to Shay’s grandmother. It wasn’t the biggest diamond I’d ever seen, but it was one of the prettiest. Elegant. Timeless. The kind of ring that looked like it came with a love story and at least three family secrets.

“Did he go cheap? Was it beautiful? Was it worthy of you?” she rapidly fired off her questions.

“Tate doesn’t know the meaning of the word cheap.” Not to say he wasn’t careful with his money. He was. Honestly, the man could give tips about investing in the stock market. His portfolio was incredible. But if he was going to buy something, it was going to be the best. “And yes, it was beautiful.” So beautiful, if I was being honest. “It had to be at least four carats.”

Lily’s brows lifted. “Nice.”

“Not nice.” I stabbed at my pad thai. “That ring was made to impress. It wasn’t made for me.”

“I am so not defending him here,” Lily said, waving her spring roll. “But to be honest, a lot of men stupidly think the size of the ring is a reflection on them. That said, I still hate him on your behalf.” She paused, her mouth twisting. “But . . . it is kind of romantic that he kept the ring all this time. And that he looked at it every day.”

I sank farther into my pillows. “That’s not helping me, Lily.”

“Listen, I read you the why-we-hate-Tate list several times, but you chose to proceed.” She smirked.

“I know,” I whined. “The problem is, I’ve never really hated him.”

“I suspected as much.” She took another bite of spring roll.

“What do I do?” I asked, fully prepared to beg her to tell me.

Yes, I realized I had said I was done with Tate Ryder forever after the renovations. But I hadn’t exactly expected him to march over to his parents’ house and basically quit his job.

Or fight for us.

Did that mean this time I was supposed to fight for us too?

Was that what Coco wanted?

Did she think we’d given up too easily last time?

Was that why she wanted a makeover for this house? A house she had never once complained about. In fact, she’d been proud of all the ridiculous wallpaper and patterns that had no business existing in the same zip code.