CHAPTER 5

JULIA

20 Days 'til Christmas Eve

My nails rap against the café's tabletop as I glance toward the door. Kyle's fifteen minutes late, and by the looks of the other patrons who take a wide berth around me, I'm not hiding my frustration very well. He's probably doing this on purpose just to get a rise out of me. Well, congrats, Kyle. Mission accomplished.

Finally, I hear his voice as he flirts with the barista, strolling over to me with his coffee like he has all the time in the world.

"Glad you could make it," I mutter, glancing pointedly at my watch. He slides into the seat opposite me, completely unfazed.

"You're welcome," he says with that insufferable smirk, flipping open a menu. "Have you ordered?"

I grit my teeth. "Obviously not," I reply icily. "Didn't know when-or if-you'd actually show up."

Kyle shrugs, barely glancing up from his menu. "Oh, come on, Julia. A little patience wouldn't hurt." The corner of his mouth twitches, and I can tell he's thoroughly enjoying this.

Patience? I'm about to explode. "How thoughtful of you," I snap. "Next time, I'll schedule in twenty minutes of waiting around in case you feel like gracing us with your presence."

Kyle just chuckles as if we're having a delightful time. "Sure, works for me."

Fighting the urge to hurl my coffee at him, I lean back and let out a slow breath. "Let's just get through the day without bloodshed, shall we?"

"No promises," he quips, picking up his cup. The smug look on his face is enough to make my nails curl into my palms, but I remind myself I'm doing this for Penny.

"Alright," I say, sitting up straighter in my chair. "We've got a few caterers lined up for today." He nods and takes another sip, leaning back in his chair. "We're going to sample a variety of dishes and select the best menu for Penny and Chase."

"Not a problem," he replies, swinging on his chair. I resist the urge to kick the leg of it, knocking him on his ass. Tipping his head forward, he continues. "How many of these caterers are friends of yours?"

"None, actually," I retort. The server places my coffee in front of me and I mouth a thank you before she leaves again. "Unlike you, I'm taking this seriously." Kyle raises a single eyebrow and keeps sipping. Scowling, I continue. "What? Do you think I just went ahead and prearranged everything, then brought you along just to 'approve' what I already picked out?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. Just making sure you weren't choosing a caterer based on whose food pairs best with your double-shot chai lattes," he says, flashing that smart ass grin again.

"Whatever, Kyle. And what is it you bring to the table exactly? Other than scepticism and apparent lack of taste?" I'm happy with that, and I can't stop the grin that follows.

"Oh, I have taste," he says, narrowing his eyes. "Just not for overpriced, frou-frou nonsense. But if you're here to convince me why we need champagne fountains and truffle-infused everything, then go right ahead."

Scoffing, I roll my eyes. "If Penny wants truffle anything, then she's getting it. Not all of us want to cut corners like you, Scrooge."

"I'm here to make sure this doesn't turn into some ridiculously overpriced circus. Just because Penny wants a winter wonderland doesn't mean she needs a blizzard of hundred-dollar bills."

"Oh, right, because 'budget' is so important to you," I say, leaning forward and glaring at him. "You sure know how to spend money when it's on yourself, don't you?"

For a moment, something in Kyle's expression changes. What I said seems to have struck a nerve. But I stand by it. The budget for his never-wedding with Penny was far greater than this one. They literally had the best of everything. But just because this one is on a budget, doesn't mean we can't do high quality, or her wonderland theme.

"Let's just get this show on the road. OK?" he says, but he still seems a little pained.

"Fine," I say, downing the last of my coffee and standing from the seat. "Come on, then."

"Lead the way, princess."

By the time we reach the first caterer, the tension between us is so thick it could almost be bottled and sold as a new type of cologne - Antagonism by Kyle and Julia.

After introducing myself to the woman at the door, she ducks out the back to fetch the head chef. He bursts through the kitchen doors and greets us with arms wide open, before ushering us to a table for two at the back.

"I'll be right back with a few samples for you both to try. It's designed with rich, warm flavours of local seasonal food," he says with a wide grin. Heading back to the kitchen, he returns moments later with four plates precariously balancing on his arms. He places them in front of us and puts his hands on his hips, clearly proud of his food. "I'll leave you to try this out and I'll be back in a bit."

Gazing over the plates, my mouth waters. I look over at Kyle, who I'm sure would rather be anywhere else but here with me.

"Do you want to try the mushroom risotto first?" I ask. He scrunches up his face, and I resist the urge to kick him under the table. "What's wrong with this?" I say, taking a bite. The flavours are divine, and the mushroom is silky smooth.

"Nothing, if you're a fan of pretentious fungus."

"Pretentious? They're mushrooms, not diamonds. It's elevated," I say, smiling sweetly while savouring the mouthful before swallowing. "Penny would love this. Don't you think?"

He sighs. ""It's fine, I guess. Not my taste, and I'm not sure this is what Chase had in mind, either."

I let out an exasperated breath. "It's supposed to feel special, Kyle. It's a wedding, not a backyard barbecue."

"Special, yes. Not excessive. This - truffle, I assume," he says, picking up a mouthful with his fork and inspecting it like it has legs. "It's too much."

Frustrated, I suggest we try the remaining dishes - tomato soup, delicate canapes, and chicken breast roasted in a garlic butter with lemon. Every time Kyle finds something to complain about. Yet I counter its perfection, but still, he focuses only on the flaws he perceives. There's nothing wrong with this menu and I'm starting to think he just wants to hate it because I don't.

When we finally reach dessert, a white chocolate mousse with cranberry compote, I can't resist spooning a large bite, savouring the delicate sweetness. "Oh, Penny needs this at her wedding."

Kyle raises an eyebrow. "Does it taste like Christmas too?"

"Just try it," I say through gritted teeth, shoving a spoonful his way.

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It's...fluffy," he says, as if it's a bad thing.

I blink. "It's mousse, Kyle. Fluffy is the point."

"Fine," he mutters, and I try not to laugh at his clear discomfort.

I roll my eyes and turn to the chef, who's waiting expectantly. "Thank you so much! The food was fantastic."

"Glad to hear it. We'll need to know by the end of the week if you would like to do business - for ordering and such," he says.

I nod. "Thank you. I'll let you know as soon as we've decided."

Kyle says nothing, and as we leave, I can feel my frustration rising with every step. How can he take something as joyful as wedding planning and make it feel like a tax audit?

Maybe he'll like the next place better.

At the next caterer, a homier Italian place, the chef offers us samples of pasta dishes, savoury tarts, and hearty soups. I can tell Kyle prefers this place-he practically melts over a ravioli in brown butter sauce. But the food, while delicious, doesn't quite have that elevated, wintry vibe Penny wants.

Kyle smirks, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. "Finally, something that's not trying so hard."

I roll my eyes. "Just because it's simple doesn't mean it's right for the wedding."

He shrugs. "Not everything needs to be 'elevated,' princess. Sometimes classic works best."

I narrow my eyes. "You know, I get that you're the 'budget police', but Penny and Chase deserve something magical."

I'm about to argue when I catch a look in his eye-a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of something softer, less guarded. But it's gone before I can even make sense of it, replaced by his usual smirk.

"I'm sure a wedding can be magical without all the glitter and truffle nonsense."

I laugh dryly. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Nope," he grins. "And I plan to keep it that way."

As we walk back to our respective cars, conveniently parked beside each other, I feel a headache coming on. Two tastings, two fights, and we're no closer to an agreement. I glance at the remaining items on the planner, dreading more arguments with each one. If this keeps up, I'll need more than coffee to get through this.

Once we reach the cars, Kyle stands tall, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. "So, what's next on this list of yours?"

I bite back a groan. "Flowers. Tomorrow," pausing, I try to read his expression but come up empty. "Can you just try to keep an open mind, though? Please?"

He grins. "Not making any promises."

Opening my car door, I turn back to him. "I'll text you the address."

"Looking forward to it," he replies, dripping with sarcasm.

Sliding into my car, I'm already dreading the next round. I just hope the flowers aren't as thorny as he is.