“No, she was never here, and you’ll meet her when the time is right.” I feign a yawn, and check my watch. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to crawl into bed.”
Her eyes are lit with excitement. “Okay, but tomorrow I want to hear all about this girl.”
I nod, and head upstairs. I’m about to enter my room when I find the door shut. I know I left it open when I moved Chelsea out and headed down to the party. I check the two spare bedrooms and they’re empty. I guess Linc stumbled into my room. I drop down onto the bed in one of the spare rooms and reach for my phone.
“Shit.”
I go back to my bedroom door. My buddy is probably fast asleep. I’ll just hurry in, grab my phone and get out. I don’t want to wake him, he’s clearly having a bad night, and needs to sleep it off. I try the door, only to find it locked. Fuck, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s locked it. I consider pounding on the door, I really want to see if Maize messaged me back, and after talking to Katherine, I really want to tell Maize how I feel—although doing it in person is a much better idea. Waiting until morning to talk to her might be torturous, but I can’t go around pounding or breaking down doors. I’m about to walk away, when I hear a noise in my room—something that sounds a lot like giggling. What the fuck?
24
Maize
It’s the day before Christmas, my mom has the nightshift off, and we’re both up early baking up a storm for tomorrow’s feast. I should be happy. I should be smiling with joy and dancing around the kitchen. But I’m not. In fact, I’m completely confused. I sent Christian a dozen texts last night, and he’s yet to answer any of them. He mentioned that he had something to do, somewhere to be on Saturday night, and while I wanted to ask—it’s not like him to be vague—I didn’t want to pry. Although he still has never told me where he goes every Sundays.
I guess if he wanted me to know he would have told me. Really though, it’s Christmas and he’s most likely busy with family. It’s not like him to blow me off and I’m probably worried about nothing. Then again what if something happened and he couldn’t text. What if he was hurt? With that thought rattling around inside my brain, I reach for the cookie sheet with shaky fingers, and it falls. The loud clanging sound pulls me from my reverie.
Mom touches my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Why don’t you go lay down?” She waves her hand to shoo me away. “I’ve got this.”
I shake my head. “No, I like baking with you. I just need more coffee.” I head to the pot and pour a big mugful. As I drink my gaze goes to my phone, but again…nothing.
“Are you waiting for a call?” Mom asks, as she turns her rolling pin to hit the crust from a different angle.
“I plan to go shopping with Kaitlyn and Ryan later, so I was just checking to see if they left me a message.” At least it’s not an entire lie. We do have plans to shop. I take another big drink of coffee, and start dropping the shortbreads onto the tray. A smile creeps across my face as I think about the cookies Christian brought me. They were delicious and I must ask for the recipe. Maybe I can make them for him back at Kingston. He sure loved the eggs benny I perfected.
A knock sounds at the door and I nearly jump out of my socks. “I’ll get it,” I say quickly, and Mom gives me a strange look as I wipe my hands on my apron. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s not Christian, but there is a small part of me that wants it to be him. I’m not ready for Mom to meet him, but I just want to see him, to know he’s okay after not hearing from him last night.
I pull open the door and my face falls when I see it’s Ryan. “Nice to see you too,” he says with a smirk.
“Sorry, I just thought you were someone else.”
“Thought I was the big football star you’re sleeping with, did you?”
“Shh,” I say and whack him. “Mom is in the kitchen.” I frown and take in his just crawled out of bed look, messy hair, sleepy eyes, unshaven face. He does have a Ryan Reynolds vibe about him. “Wait, why are you here so early? I thought we weren’t going shopping until this afternoon.”
“We’re not, but isn’t today your baking day?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it’s my eating day.” I laugh and shake my head. “I could smell the apple pie from my house,” he says and inhales deeply. “Woke me up.”
“You’re crazy. Come on.”
“Wait, what’s wrong?” he asks, capturing my hand to pull me back.
God, I wish he couldn’t read me so well, but we’ve been buddies since kindergarten, so I’m not surprised. “I just…haven’t heard a word from Christian.” I take a deep breath. “Don’t,” I say. It’s too early for one of his lectures. He doesn’t trust Christian or any of the kids from Sweetwater High, and with good reason after what they did to me. Christian has changed, though. I’m sure of it.
“All I’m going to say is it’s Christmas, and he’s probably busy with his country club or something. I heard something about Chelsea having a party.”
I stiffen. “Was it last night?” Did he go to a party at the country club, with Chelsea, and not tell me? Purposely not tell me? I work to push down the unease.
“I really don’t know. I was shooting pool at the pub. Dylan knows Chelsea from Princeton, and he ran into
