CHAPTER 7

JULIA

18 Days 'til Christmas Eve

Again, I sit at the café waiting on Kyle. This is becoming a bit of a habit now, and not in a good way. Sipping my chai latte and rapping my nails on the tabletop impatiently, I glance up at the clock on the wall-twenty minutes late. Waiting on Kyle is like my own living purgatory, punctuality at the opposite end of priorities from mine.

"Morning," Kyle says, pulling my attention from the wall.

"About time," I blurt.

"Geez, sorry," he says wincing, then slides into the seat opposite. Glancing at the untouched mug in front of me, he looks up at me. "Is this for me?" For a second he looks almost grateful, but then it's gone again as fast as it appeared.

I nod. "It was. It's probably cold now, though."

He picks it up, taking a sip. "It's not. But," he pauses, pulling his brows together. "Since when do you buy me coffee?" He narrows his gaze, leaning in closer. "And how do you know what I drink?"

"We used to be -," I try to find the right word. Friends isn't quite right, but saying 'Penny's fiancée' doesn't seem proper either. Finally, I settle on a word. "Closer."

His brows arch as he takes another sip. Placing the cup on the table, a flicker of something crosses his face-softer, nostalgia, perhaps? A faint hum follows from his throat, as if the truth of our shared past is too much to think about. And if I'm being honest, I can understand that. For a brief moment, the memories of us all hanging out together repeat in my mind, but I know focussing on that will only lead to heartache-for him, for Penny, for all of us. We can't go there. Not today.

"Anyway," I say, brushing the seriousness off, "We have a lot to do today, and I don't want to waste time waiting around for coffee."

And just like that, we're back to reality.

"Right," he says in a low voice, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "What's on the agenda today? Decorations?"

"About that," I say, pausing. "I thought it might be prudent to get the invitations done so we can get them out to guests. And I've set up an appointment at the bakery."

"The bakery?" he asks.

"Yeah, to sample different cakes-for the wedding."

"Oh, yeah. Right," he says, but it's clear he'd completely forgotten about one of the most crucial parts of a wedding. I shake my head, incredulously. "I do like cake," he says with that familiar smirk.

"Of course you do," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Finishing our drinks, we leave the café and head toward the bakery.

The door jingles, opening to a small shop with a large glass case running across the middle. To the back is an open kitchen filled with stainless steel benches and appliances. Kyle and I wait while the woman behind the counter serves an older lady purchasing a loaf of freshly baked bread and cream buns.

As the older woman leaves, she dusts her hands on her apron and glances our way with a broad smile.

"Hi there. What can I get for you?"

"Hi," I say, flashing a mirrored smile. "We're here for the cake testing." Just as I'm about to mention the appointment I'd already made, she interrupts.

"Ah, Julia, and Kyle? Yes, take a seat and I'll be right over with your samples," she says, gesturing us to a small table at the other side of the store.

The baker joins us along with a tray full of cake slices, each with a different filling and garnish. "Alright, I've got a few flavours of cake here that are pretty popular with winter weddings. Each one has a different filling, but you can swap that out if something's not quite to your taste. First, we have a vanilla bean cake with a whipped buttercream filling." She places one in front of me then Kyle, paired with a cake fork.

Picking up the fork, I dive right in, carving a mouthful off. It's nice, and I like the little specks of real vanilla bean in the cake but maybe it's a bit plain. "It's nice," I say.

Kyle nods. "Not bad."

Our underwhelming responses get the baker's attention. "Shall we try the second option, then?" Both Kyle and I nod, placing the remnants of vanilla cake back on the tray. She puts two new plates in front of us. "This one is an almond cake filled with a raspberry compote."

As before, I dig right in, watching Kyle jab at his while I chew. He glances up at me, and I frown, tipping my head for him to try it. He tries a small bite, screwing up his face. I suppose raspberry isn't really his thing. The baker looks between us, clearly hoping for a better response.

"I like it," I say. "The subtlety of the almond pairs well with the tart of the raspberry."

She grins. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And your thoughts?" she asks Kyle.

Kyle grimaces with a sigh. "I, uh, I'm not really a fan of sour flavours."

"I see. Well, perhaps the third option will be more to your taste." The baker swaps our plates for new ones, again. "This one is a spiced caramel with a cinnamon cream." She waves a hand, ushering us to try it.

An involuntary groan emits from my throat, savouring the flavours. "Oh, my goodness," I say, mouth still full.

"So ladylike," Kyle mutters under his breath, smirking.

"Huh?" I ask, not really paying him any attention.

"Nothing," he says, frowning.

When I swallow my mouthful, I notice Kyle is still chewing on the small bite he'd taken. "What the hell is your problem, Kyle? You can't possibly nay-say every single option here."

He pulls his brows together, frowning. "I don't know about this one. It tastes, well, like one of your chai lattes."

From the corner of my eye, I can see the baker biting her lip, trying to hold in her laughter. But I don't. A chuckle escapes me. "Duh, that's because cinnamon is one of the main ingredients. Come on Kyle, you know this. Don't play games with me."

"Fine," he says, narrowing his eyes. "I don't hate it. It's just really-cinnamon-y."

"Ha," I blurt. "That's not a word. I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on this flavour." Returning my attention to the baker, who's grinning, obviously finding our banter amusing. She straightens herself back to her professional façade.

"Well, there's one more flavour I'd like you both to try." Swapping the plates out for the final time, she places one last plate before us both. "This one is a chocolate mud cake with a hazelnut praline."

There's no denying that Kyle likes this one. He's practically drooling as he tries to fit a mouthful that's far too large for his mouth. I take a more appropriately sized bite, savouring the rich chocolate flavour that balances well with the sweet praline. If Kyle nay-says this, then perhaps he'd rather a salt lick for the wedding cake.

I open my mouth to speak, but Kyle cuts me off.

"This one," he says, jabbing the cake with his fork before shovelling the last of the slice into his mouth. Silently, I offer him up the rest of mine, which he gladly accepts.

Shaking my head, I can't help but grin at him. He's like a kid on Christmas-pun intended. "Glad you finally liked something," I say sarcastically.

He waves me off, polishing the cake from my plate.

"So," I say, returning to the baker. "Would you have enough time to pull off a three-tiered cake for the wedding? Or is that asking too much before Christmas?"

She ums and ahs, mulling over the question. "It really depends on what you want for the decoration. A simple design and structure, we could probably manage, but for something more complicated, well, we'd be cutting it fine."

My lips draw into a straight line. "What sort of design would you recommend for something simpler on a three-tier cake?"

"Three tiers?" Kyle asks. "Do we need that much cake?"

I frown at him, but the baker steps in before I speak. "It's quite common to have three, sometimes four tiers, for a wedding. It all depends on what the couple would like. And there's a tradition where the couple saves the top tier for their first wedding anniversary. But not everyone does that these days."

"Interesting," he says, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I was thinking something with a little sparkle, like edible glitter-silver perhaps, and maybe something to reflect the bouquet-ranunculus. Could you do something like that in the timeframe you have?" I ask, feeling my anxiety rise, worrying whether or not we can actually do something that both fits the wedding, the brief time we have to sort it out, and Penny's tastes.

"Yeah, maybe a white fondant with a fine edible glitter, silver of course, and my assistant has a knack for crafting edible flowers-so long as we keep it to a minimum, since they take a while to make. Perhaps adding a thick ribbon around the bottom of each layer to tie it all together, and a few sprigs of edible foliage to tie the flowers in. What are your thoughts on that?" She looks between me and Kyle, but I'm pretty sure it's flown straight over the top of his head.

"I love it. Thank you," I say, gushing with delight.

"I'll draw up a sketch and once you give me the go-ahead, we'll get started."

Glancing over at Kyle, he's already watching me, but he doesn't say a word. Although I suspect it's taking every ounce of his strength not to say some snarky comment. After we thank the baker for her help, we head back out into the cool winter air. It's still a bit nippy, especially with the breeze that tries to sneak into any open spot of my jacket as it whirls past.

"So, you weren't joking about glitter, huh?" Kyle says, shooting me a look that tells me he's amused.

"Why would anyone joke about glitter?" I return his question with a question of my own. Two can play that game.

He shrugs. "I don't know. People are curious creatures, Julia."

I'm not sure whether that's a jab at me or not. And to be completely honest, I don't know what to say to that.

"Right, invitations?" I ask, pointing down the street. "The place is just over there."

"How fun," Kyle mumbles under his breath. He thinks I haven't heard but my hearing is acute.

"It might not be super fun," I say, mocking him, "But it is essential if we actually want guests to attend. It's not like we can just send a group email and be done with it."

He pauses for a moment, turning to me with a sly grin. "That's too bad. We'd get that list of yours done a lot faster if we could."

Shaking my head, I grab his arm as I stride past him, dragging him alongside me. "Come on Scrooge, let's get this sorted."

"Yeah," he deadpans. "I wonder if we can find some glitter for this, too."

He's joking, of course, but I like the sound of that. "Great idea," I beam at him. "And you thought this wasn't going to be fun."

When we arrive, Kyle opens the door and ushers me inside. Stationary lines the walls with every possible size, colour and font imaginable-business cards, greeting cards, paper and cardboard stock, flyers, posters, and finally an array of wedding invitations.

"Wow," Kyle says, staring and mouth agape. "Who knew there were so many options?"

Hands on hips, I glare at him. "I did." He's forgotten that Penny and I planned the majority of their never-wedding, including the invites. And as much as I'd love to rub my experience in his face, it feels a little gauche to do that right now. Especially after we agreed on the wedding cake - mostly.

"Where do we start?" he asks, picking up a piece of parchment and rubbing his thumb over the texture grain.

"Let's just take a moment to look at the examples and then see what jumps out at us."

Kyle nods and I grab the thick folder labelled 'Wedding Stationary', dragging him over to a couch nearby. Opening the folder, I set it down on the coffee table in front of us.

"Julia," says a woman's voice. "It's so lovely to see you again."

I look up to see the woman who'd helped us with the never-wedding. "Hey," I say, standing and hugging her. "Great to see you, too."

She focuses on me, shifting her gaze to Kyle, then back to me. "Is this for you, then? Or..." Her words trail off, clearly confused.

Side-eyeing Kyle, I raise my brow and nod towards him inconspicuously and mouth 'That's Kyle', before speaking out loud. "Um, well, we're helping Penny and Chase with their wedding." I turn towards Kyle and wrap an arm around his arm. "This is Kyle. He's helping too."

It's clear that she's still confused, but she brushes it off. No doubt she'll clarify with me later-when he's out of earshot. Moving onto the task at hand, we explain the theme and what we need. She flips through the large folder, showing a few options she thinks might fit before leaving us to consider the rest.

As soon as the woman leaves us to the catalogue, Kyle dives right in. His finger traces over a sample with a gold-foiled border.

"Too flashy," I say, going to flip the page. "Penny wants something elegant, not gaudy."

"Elegant doesn't have to mean boring," he replies, flipping to the next page. He holds up an invitation with a textured cream background-understated but elegant-with a delicate silver trim.

I examine it. "Not bad, but I think white suits the theme more than cream or beige."

A triumphant smirk crosses his face. "See? Even you can admit I have taste, even if it's the wrong colour choice."

"Don't get cocky," I shoot back, though a small smile tugs at my lips. "What do you think of the font? Simple, or should we go with something more stylised?"

He flips the page over, pointing to a sophisticated script with just the right touch of formality. "This."

Leaning into the page, trying to get a closer look, Kyle does the same. He's so close to me that the warmth radiates off his arm, making my skin prickle. Against my cheek, his breath hovers dangerously close. I glance up, our eyes locking. There's something in the look he's giving me-something unspoken, unsettling. Deeper than the usual teasing I've grown used to these past few days.

His intense gaze triggers a raw memory from before the tension. Memories of our former friendship fuel an unfamiliar ache in my heart.

What is happening here?

I break the moment, turning my attention back to the catalogue. My pulse quickens, fuelled by uncertainty.

"Looks like we actually agree on something," I say, practically forcing the words out while straining to keep my voice light. "Must be a Christmas miracle."

Kyle chuckles, leaning back on the couch, hands behind his head. Yet I notice there's a hesitation in his laugh. "Yeah... don't expect it to happen again."

We laugh, but the usual ease doesn't follow. Instead, a strange, lingering silence stretches between us, the catalogue a flimsy shield between us.

Why am I noticing these things? I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. This is Kyle, the infuriating guy I can barely stand-Penny's ex. And yet, here we are, sharing-whatever this is.

"Ready to order?" he asks, pulling me back to the present.

"Yeah." I nod, settling my hand on the catalogue to close it. At the same time, Kyle reaches for it too. Our fingers brush-a light touch, really-and my pulse kicks up another notch, warmth flooding my face. It's nothing, just an accident... so why does it feel like my skin is buzzing?

I glance up at him, and he's already looking at me. Neither of us says a word, but in that single moment, I'm painfully aware of everything-his hand next to mine, his gaze saying something I can't interpret. We're closer than we've been in a very long time, and it's disarming in a way I never saw coming.

Clearing my throat, I refocus. "Alright, so, we'll go with the silver trim, white-embossed card, and this font?"

"Sounds like a plan," he says, agreeing. Then his expression softens, unguarded. "We did good."

We. The word hangs between us, and surprisingly the rush of warmth that accompanies it.

We head towards the counter, but the quiet feels different, almost comfortable. Placing the final order, she hands a receipt, smiling.

"You two make a wonderful team," she says.

Kyle laughs dryly and runs a hand through his hair, while my cheeks flush with a warmth that makes me feel like I've been sunbathing. Why does this feel nice? I shake the thought away, handing over the catalogue.

Outside, the awkwardness melts away, and we're back to our usual selves.

"So, what's happening tomorrow?" Kyle asks with his usual smirk.

"Decorations, and something else that's completely left my mind - sorry. Think you're up for it?"

"Oh, definitely. I'll bring my glitter-resistant armour," he replies, grinning.

"Kyle," I hesitate for a moment. "Should we just share a car tomorrow? Save on parking fees-and fines."

He watches me questioningly, but then he nods. "Sure, want me to pick you up?"

"Will you be on time?"

"I can probably manage that," he says, humorously.

"OK, that'd be helpful. Thank you."

"See you in the morning, Jules."

He turns to go, but I can't take my eyes off him for some ridiculous reason. That brief look repeats in my head. For a moment, it was like we both remembered something we had forgotten-that once we were friends, close friends.

I can't shake the strange, nagging feeling that maybe-just maybe-this isn't all bad. And as I watch Kyle disappear around the corner, one question echoes in my mind. What if I've been wrong about him all along?