Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

“What the hell are you all doing? All of this stuff behind my back. It’s wrong!”

“My parents are still close friends with him. I’ve seen your father a lot in these past years.”

I considered that fact. “So. . .you’re the one giving him my phone number every time I change it?”

Saint frowned.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I know that you need him. I know that you have to forgive him at some point.”

“Fuck you.” I gripped the front of my gown, needing something to anchor me. “That’s my damn decision, not yours.”

“I did it because I love you.”

“Liar.”

“And I did it because I know you need this to heal.”

I pointed at him. “You’re a chef, not a psychologist.”

“But you must admit that sometimes I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Fuck you, Saint.”

He took another step closer. “You need to forgive him.”

Tears left my eyes. “You didn’t have to watch my mother dangle in the air.”

He looked down at the ground. “Actually. . .Ivy, I did.”

Sorrow lodged in my throat.

He whispered, “That day changed both of us forever.”

Shaking my head, I backed away and grabbed my coat. “One at a time. I can’t do it all this week. I can’t.”

“Please, don’t go, Ivy.”

I put the coat on.

“Let me walk you to your villa at least.”

“I need time. . .Saint. . .I could love you. I could open my heart to you. But my father. . .I need. . .more time.” I wiped the tears away, but more came. “It hurts to even think about it. Right in my chest. It’s painful. I don’t want to deal with this. I just want to fucking be happy.”

“Maybe you would be happy from giving him a chance.”

“I. . .don’t know. Just leave me alone.” I rushed out of there, terrified of listening anymore.

Outside, cold darkness hit me. It was snowing. Swirls of flakes obscured the path in front of me. Still, I hurried along, hoping I was going in the right direction.

Dad is here. I can’t deal with him right now. Maybe. . .next year or. . .

My stomach knotted with sorrow.

My heels crunched loudly as I headed forward. I squinted, trying to catch the numbers on the villa.

A dark voice sounded around me. “I-v-y.”

The air rippled around me.

I froze in terror. “W-who was that?”

No one replied.

I glanced around and could make out nothing but snow falling within inky darkness. Within the air, there was a different type of cold. The sort that brought terror and chills to the spine. The sort that a coat or blanket wouldn’t get rid of it.

Horrified, I hugged myself. “Who’s there?”

The silence grew thick and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled with a sudden awareness that I was no longer alone. And whoever had said my name would not be a friend.

I inched away, deciding to run back to Saint’s villa.

Okay. I’m going to run fast, even if I have to kick off these damn boots. Fuck that.

I turned around to race off and spotted a dark figure in front of me. My blood iced. I tried to scream, but the sound lodged in my throat.

The thing was huge and tall, rising over seven feet in front of me. I didn’t know if the being was a man or woman. Due to the scary deep voice, I figured it was male. He wore a huge, ragged cloak with a hood that covered his face. And the cloak didn’t appear to be made from fabric—at least not one that could be found on earth. It moved back and forth on its own as if living too. The bottom of the cloak spilled out onto the snow like black oil. There was a slit by the neck, but I didn’t see any skin or form of a body, just darkness. The sleeves were long and hung over so far that it hid his hands. The ends of the sleeves touched the ground.

That dark, deep voice sounded from the hood’s blackness. “I-v-y.”

I trembled and ran in the other direction.

Before I could get a few steps forward, that being was in front of me too.

H-how did that happen?!

It towered over me. “I-v-y.”

“W-who are you? W-what are you?”

“It is t-i-m-e for your last lesson.”

“What?” I raised my hands in the air. “No. Not this again. I learned it. I love Saint. I. . .”

“Come.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere. I learned the lesson. I opened my heart to love. I won’t go.”

“Y-o-u must.” He raised one of his arms to his side. A black hand peeked out. Moving on its own, the cloak dropped to the ground, stretched out, and widened.

I inched back.

The sleeve continued to get wider and bigger. He raised his arm higher. And then a spark burst within the fabric. A rip began and widened the material. And then it appeared to be some sort of other reality within the long, wide sleeve—some type of small opening to another realm.