Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,123
overlooked the courtyard behind the studio.
Morticia and I had sex over there.
“How do you feel about winning the bake-off?” Anastasia asked Keeley once the cameras were rolling. “And earning the chance to be Mrs. Jonathan Frost?”
Keeley was practically jumping up and down. “I can’t wait! We’re going to have a big holiday party with his family. I’ll cook for everyone.”
“Hopefully not ice cream soup,” I muttered.
Keeley hit me playfully. “Oh, stop it! You’re such a teaser. Isn’t he such a flirt!” She giggled and mugged for the camera.
“And I believe you two are going to be moving in together in the next few days. There is a spin-off season of Jonathan and Keeley coming out for all you bake-off fans,” Anastasia said, plugging the show.
“If you want to see the train wreck in real time, tune in,” I added dryly.
“Such a kidder!” Keeley repeated. Her eye was twitching slightly.
“Dude,” Carl said to me later that evening.
I had been instructed to take Keeley out on the town and get photographed by the paparazzi. Keeley had wanted to go to a restaurant, but I didn’t have it in me to sit and pretend to be her boyfriend through a three-hour tasting menu. Instead, I took her to a club that the Svensson brothers had rented out for the night. Scores of them were in town, psyching themselves up to go to Harrogate for Christmas and New Year’s.
“Greg is pissed. What the fuck happened, man?” Carl asked.
The lights from the club reflected in his eyes with the pulse of the music. His brothers had invited a number of hot models and dancers. The girls were drinking and flirting with the handsome, blond, rich Svenssons. Keeley had joined them on the dance floor once she realized I wasn’t going to come dance with her.
All I wanted was Morticia. She would have hated it here, however.
In fact, even I didn’t like it. It was strange, because usually this was totally my scene. But now, all I wanted was to be sitting by the fire in my condo with Morticia and our cats, talking and having a drink, with dinner in the oven. A Christmas movie we’d seen a hundred times before would be on, and we would be chatting over it while periodically making sardonic comments.
Carl snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Dude,” he said, “do you not understand? Greg is going to go ballistic. He thinks you spilled the beans on purpose. Now he’s got Weston and Blade chasing conspiracy theories. He thinks you’re in league with the Holbrooks.”
I shook my head. “Morticia found out.”
“But how? I thought you had it in the bag,” Carl asked.
“I fucked up,” I admitted.
Carl blew out a breath. “Dorothy called a meeting for tomorrow. I’m hoping that we can sweet-talk her into continuing the deal. You need to be on your A game,” he warned me.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” I said, rubbing two fingers on my temple. “Maybe we’ll work something out.”
My heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t think I could even stay in the same condo now that Morticia wasn’t going to be there.
“I loved her so much,” I said.
“Her?” Carl wrinkled his nose. “I thought you were over her.”
“Morticia? No! It’s only been a few hours!” I exclaimed.
“Oh,” Carl said, “I thought you were talking about her.” He jerked his chin. Coming in our direction was Sarah.
“Jonathan,” she cooed, running to me.
I stepped away from her. “I’m not getting back together with you, Sarah.”
“Oh, so you’re going to pine over Morticia but not me?” She pouted.
“You left me,” I snarled, “and didn’t even tell me what had happened. I didn’t know what I had done. Then it just turned out you got what, bored? Tired?”
“I made a mistake!” she cried. “I was young and stupid! But I love you!”
I shrugged. “It’s too late.”
Sarah breathed heavily. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll come crawling back to me soon enough once you face the reality of the situation.”
“Carl,” I said to my friend, “can you have security throw her out?”
Sarah opened the large black folder she was carrying. “You can throw me out,” she said, “but not before you see these.”
She handed me several large prints on photo paper. I peered at them in the darkness. Carl turned on his phone flashlight and shined it on the papers.
“Holy shit! Who is that? Are those people doing it? And why are there baked goods and cupcakes and shit all over their faces? Still,” he added, “it is pretty hot.”