Page 15 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas

THIRTEEN

MEG

Later that evening, Meg met Mom’s paramour at dinner at her swanky club. It didn’t come as a surprise that Kyle was nothing like Pops in appearance, personality, and demeanor.

He greeted her like they were French with a kiss on both cheeks. “It’s lovely to finally meet the famous Meg.” Kyle smiled broadly, smelling of musky cologne, as he guided them to a table with a view of the city skyline.

Meg gave him a half hug and returned his smile.

He seemed genuinely nice and age-appropriate.

Thank God.

She didn’t think she could have handled it if Mom had fallen in love with a hunky millennial.

Kyle had a distinguished style that matched Mom’s, but slightly more relaxed and casual with his white linen shirt and khakis. He was tall and thin, with salt-and-pepper hair, dark eyes, and a dazzling smile so bright Meg practically needed sunglasses to stare at his face.

Pops was an aging hippie who had never bothered to care about clothes, food, or really anything else when he was on a story. He was like a dog with a bone. Everything else fell away. He had a singular focus, which Meg used to revere in him. Not anymore.

Meg clenched her jaw, trying to tamp down the gnawing worry that refused to loosen its grip.

What if she was like him?

What if Pops’s unyielding obsession was in her DNA?

What if she was destined to follow in his footsteps? To live alone and give up everyone she loved for the sake of story.

Wasn’t that partly what she’d done with Matt?

She sucked in a breath and forced her shoulders back.

Meg instantly understood why Mom had been attracted to Kyle’s easy confidence.

He pulled out their chairs and waited for them to sit before he leaned on his elbows, giving Meg a conspiratorial grin.

“So, Meg, I know this might come as a bit of a shock, but your mom has told anyone within a thirty-mile radius who will listen about your NYT piece. She keeps a stack of copies in the car and her gym bag on the off chance that she bumps into someone who hasn’t read it yet.

I had no idea they even printed that many physical copies of the paper any longer.

I think your mother might be single-handedly saving print. ”

“It’s mortifying, isn’t it?” Meg shot him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Not at all. I think it’s sweet.” He casually wrapped his arm around Mom and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“She’s a proud mama, as she should be. I’m sure you must think I’m saying this to get in your good graces, but it was a truly touching piece.

I already feel like I know you from everything your mom and grandma tell me, but reading your story moved me.

It’s a brilliant piece. Honestly, brilliant.

” He bobbed his head and pressed his lips into a half smile.

Meg caught a brief flash of dewiness behind his eyes. The feature moved him? Meg was touched that he had even taken the time to read it. “Thank you so much. That’s really kind of you. It wasn’t an easy story to write, but I’m proud of how it turned out.”

“You’re off to Bend next?” Kyle asked, gently changing the topic as a waiter delivered a fruit and cheese board and a bottle of chilled white wine to the table.

“I don’t know if your mom mentioned it, but both of my boys are big skiers.

We’ve spent a lot of time at Bachelor over the years.

It’s beautiful country out in the high desert, especially this time of year.

You should have some good snow. Do you ski? ”

“Ski? Have you met me?” Meg chuckled and choked on her wine. “Does drinking hot chocolate at the lodge count as skiing?”

Kyle laughed, his facing lighting up like the Christmas ships that bobbed along the Willamette River.

Meg wasn’t kidding. That was a huge lesson that she had learned in mending herself after everything that happened with Pops.

The old Meg would have tried to fudge her outdoor abilities to fit in or fake her way through a job.

Not anymore. She fully owned that she much preferred a cozy fireplace with something warm to drink than a chair lift or a steep mountain slope. If that made her lame, so be it.

She knew that was one of the reasons she had garnered such a large social media following and her own ESPN fan base. Being honest and being herself (flaws and all) had ironically brought her more success. Much more than her early escapades trying to pull off something—someone—that she wasn’t.

Her male counterparts like Connor Howard got stacks and stacks of perfume-scented love letters from fans with phone numbers and straight-up propositions.

Meg’s inbox and DMs were always full of heartfelt messages from viewers and readers thanking her for making sports feel more obtainable and welcoming.

She was often touched by the deeply personal nature of the letters she received—sharing how much her human-interest slant moved her fans.

It was a huge gift and something she had never anticipated.

Mom shifted the conversation, placing her hand on Kyle’s knee and giving it a squeeze. “I was telling Mary Margaret about our wedding plans earlier. And good news, it sounds like she’ll be able to come, right, dear?”

“Of course.” She nodded, catching Kyle’s eye and smiling broadly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Kyle filled everyone’s wine glasses as Mom launched into a spirited rundown about flower arrangements and caterers.

Kyle nodded along happily with her descriptions of their vision for the wedding.

He offered the occasional “mm-hmmm,” but otherwise, he either agreed with her ideas for their big day or he didn’t care enough to voice otherwise.

Meg couldn’t quite tell, but there was an ease between them. A rhythm.

She watched them carefully. They had a natural rapport. Kyle listened attentively (or with practiced patience) while Mom rambled on about the jazz musicians and table linens. She kept hold of his knee like it was anchoring her to the ground.

Meg was happy for Mom. Genuinely happy. But she couldn’t shake the touch of envy—she used to feel settled with Matt.

The conversation shifted again to Meg’s plans.

“How long are you staying in Bend?” Kyle asked, spreading cheese on a cracker and passing the tray around.

“Just for a long weekend,” Meg answered truthfully. “Enough time to cover my assignment, submit a story, and maybe make a quick appearance at my friend’s birthday party.”

“And then you go back to New York?”

She nodded, carefully avoiding Mom’s ever-watching eye. “Yep. That’s the plan.”

“How do you like the East Coast?” Kyle popped a grape into his mouth. “I’ve always wondered how we Left Coasters make the shift.”

“I like it. It has a similar vibe to Europe. Italy was my favorite, although I was absolutely rubbish with the language. I never could master the accent or string more than three or four words together in a sentence. But the food and the people and the views were amazing.” Meg paused, pulling up a memory of sipping espresso in the center of the sun-drenched piazza. “I do miss these mountains, though.”

“Where do you think you’ll land next?” Kyle’s tone was casual. Too casual.

Dare she say rehearsed?

Meg was sure Mom had put him up to the question.

She tried not to bristle. “I don’t know.”

Mom cleared her throat.

“I really don’t.” Meg fiddled with her napkin, wishing she had an answer. “I’ve been journaling about it, per Gam’s advice, but so far, I’m not feeling drawn anywhere in particular. I’m leaving it up to the Universe to guide me.”

“But there must be interest from other publications?” Mom sounded hopeful. “I’m sure magazines and other newspapers must be flooding your inbox.”

“Yep, and private jets waiting to whisk me away to far-off destinations where they serve me bonbons and mimosas for breakfast,” Meg said with a hint of sarcasm, keeping her tone light.

“No, seriously, I don’t know. I’m feeling like I might be ready to try something new.

I’ve been with ESPN for almost ten years.

Writing jobs are notoriously low-paying.

Everyone thinks it’s limos and champagne, but it’s more like soup and grilled cheese. ”

“I could think of worse things.” Kyle shot her a wink. “I make a mean grilled cheese and roasted red pepper soup. I’ll have you over for dinner soon.”

Mom gave him a playful smack on the knee. “Do not encourage her. She’s about to be thirty. She needs to settle down and get paid what’s she’s truly worth.”

“She seems pretty settled to me,” he pushed back.

Meg flashed him a grateful smile. She liked him. A lot. And he cooked—bonus.

“I’m content with not knowing what comes next,” Meg said, but as the words escaped her lips, she wondered if it was true.

She didn’t feel lost anymore. Writing had saved her.

Building a community of like-minded people had saved her.

But as for the future, she wished she had better insight.

She wanted an aha moment, for the heavens to open and for gorgeous, golden light to rain down on her and deliver someone exactly like Matt Parker into her life again.

If only it were that simple.

The one thing she was sure of was that this trip was a turning point. She needed closure. She needed to say goodbye and put the past behind her once and for all if she was ever going to figure out her future.