Page 30 of Go Back to December

When the Johnsons traipsed back into the room and Baz coldly said I’d be staying with him so as not to trouble anyone else, they’d nodded politely and forced a few smiles. It should have been easy to leave. I’d spent the night sleeping on a hospital chair after being assaulted, so no one was going to protest my departure, not after saving Baz’s life.

But Baz’s mom, Sofia, stopped me in the hall and insisted I join them for Christmas Eve, and I didn’t have the mental acuity to make up an excuse.

I panicked and agreed, and his dad will arrive any minute to take me to the Johnson ancestral home to celebrate a major holiday, Money Honey style. But without Baz.

Lacy Shore

So what's our next move?

I sigh. My breath blows frosty rings that glow white against the cold of the night and the small, dry flakes of snow that are falling. I can’t handle a Hard-Core Shore inquisition. But I need to get through tonight. I won’t survive without a battle plan and Lacy lives for these moments. I decide it will be marginally less painful to call her.

“Finally! I was beginning to feel guilty.”

“I have something to ease your conscience,” I reply. “Baz must have hit his head harder than anyone thought. He wants to work with us to keep the café open.”

“Baz said that? What exactly happened at the train station?”

Her tone is too spicy for my liking. “There’s a catch.”

“Always.”

“Apparently, he’s estranged from his family, which made things super weird when they all booked it to the hospital this morning.”

“Ugh, awkward.”

“Understatement. He freaked out about staying with them while he recovers.” More softly, in case the KGB are listening in, I add, “He lied and told them we, that we’re—”

My stuttering sends Lacy into maniacal sobs of laughter. At least I don’t have to articulate the actual words. I can barely think them.

We’re dating.

“He wants me to stay at his place!” I lament.

“That is so fucked up.”

“Right?”

She cackles, then sobers. “Unless you want to?”

“Have we met?” I’m shouting.

“Well, you saved his life. And dislocated his knee. And gave him a concussion.” She’s wheezing now. “This is going to be a disastrophe. You are the worst faker.” Lacy sighs. “His parents are the sweetest. I had no idea there was a rift there.”

“What is wrong with him? Why can’t he spend the holidays with his sweet family?”

“How do you solve a problem like Sebastian?” she sings, impressively on-key. “You’re missing the point. We have Baz onside, so you’ve got to keep him there. Seriously, Mel. Don’t piss him off. We need him to feed us information about the merger.”

Lacy’s voice pitches high enough to summon whales, but I can’t blame her for being anxious. She has skin in this game. Everyone’s jobs—including Baz’s—are technically on the line with the merger.

“Tell me what I should do tonight,” I beg.

“What did Baz say?”

Baz said nothing because Baz doesn’t know I’m headed into enemy territory.

“Do whatever he asks you,” Lacy insists. “You owe him.”

“Laaaaccyyyy—”