Page 51 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas

FORTY-EIGHT

JILL

Jill read and reread Owen’s letters. This couldn’t be real.

He wanted to marry her?

He’d wanted to marry her from their very Christmas together?

But why the resistance to moving to San Francisco?

And why had he left without another word when she told him about the pregnancy?

She wanted to believe it, but it was too good to be true.

By the time she was ready to leave for Matt’s party, there was still no sign of him.

His silence spoke volumes.

No response to any of her texts.

He was in full ghosting mode.

The brief glimmer of hope she’d felt when Meg pointed out the obvious quickly vanished.

Maybe Owen had wanted to marry her, but the news of the baby was too much—too traditional, a permanent residence, marriage, a baby.

You couldn’t get more traditional than that.

She gave herself a once-over, feeling the weight of everything rushing back.

She replayed dozens of happy Christmases wrapped in Owen’s solid arms, sipping mulled wine and eating peppermint petit fours.

He always stuffed her stocking with the best candies—pillowy raspberry marshmallows, tangy citrus drops, licorice buttons, black cherry fruit slices, and boozy German chocolates.

They would pop Christmas crackers, wear the silly paper crowns, and curl up to watch American holiday classics like Elf, Home Alone, and her personal favorite—Die Hard.

“Die Hard, a Christmas movie?” Owen had teased before their first viewing.

“Oh, come at me. I dare you,” Jill had bantered back. “Not only is it a Christmas movie. It is the best Christmas movie. Bruce Willis versus the one and only Alan Rickman, you can’t go wrong.”

She easily won that argument, making it an annual December tradition to pop a big bowl of popcorn and cozy up with Die Hard while Owen introduced her to the delightfulness of pub hopping on Boxing Day, sipping Christmas beers and savoring mince pies.

They had blended their unique upbringings and backgrounds effortlessly.

Until now.

She exhaled slowly.

You can do this.

She pinched her cheeks, trying to bleed color into her face, as she added a touch of lip gloss. Her emerald green dress fell softly to her knees. She finished the look with a thick green shawl and snow boots. Then she checked her phone one last time.

Nothing.

It was futile to wait around in hopes that he might have a change of heart.

Time to put on a brave face, Jill.

She walked to the lodge resigned to enjoy herself for Matt’s sake.

Jill felt a brief tick of hope when she entered the ballroom and spotted a man who looked remarkably like Owen from behind.

She started toward him, her heart thundering in her chest just in time to see him turn around and realize the man was at least ten years older than Owen.

She sighed and searched the room for Matt or Meg.

Matt was wrapped in a conversation with a man at the far end of the room. Meg and Lucinda were sharing drinks at the bar. She wound her way through the crowd to join them. “What’s good around these parts?” she teased, greeting Meg with a hug.

Meg raised her pint glass. “The holiday ale is on fire, but Lucinda is knocking back hot buttered rums like a beast. I think it’s going down soon.”

Lucinda’s cheeks were flamed from the booze. She gave Jill a loopy grin and downed the rest of her drink before signaling to the bartender that she was ready for another. “Jill, you’re a stunner. What can we get you? Full bar and good old Dad is footing the bill, so don’t hold back.”

Jill caught Meg’s eye. They shared a knowing look. “I’ll take a hot tea with lemon.”

“A hot tea with lemon coming up,” Lucinda said with a nod to the bartender.

“Where’s Owen?” She glanced over at Jill like she expected him to be at her heels.

“I was telling Matt earlier that you have the quintessential dream guy. He’s like something right out of a novel.

Tall, burly, handsome, that accent—swoon—and he’s an artist. You are one lucky lady.

He’s a charmer. He can’t be real. He’s like a fictional character plucked straight from the pages of a spicy romance novel. ”

Jill forced a smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

She was saved by Matt, who bounded over to them like an eager puppy. “My crew! You are a sight for sore eyes. You have no idea how glad I am you’re here tonight.” He scooped Meg then Jill into a hug.

“You and me both,” Lucinda agreed, tipping her glass to him. “Drink up, good sir. Drink up.”

Jill caught a tight exchange between them and watched as Lucinda’s gaze traveled to her dad and then back to Matt. She met his eye like she was searching for answers. He gave her a brief nod and then shook his head.

What was that all about?

Jill tried to get Meg’s attention, but she was keyed in on Matt, who had ordered a new round of drinks.

“Happy birthday,” Meg said, touching her pint to Matt’s. “I can’t believe you’re such an old man now.”

“To the old man,” Lucinda said, her words slurring ever so slightly as she used the edge of the table to prop herself up.

“To Matt,” Jill chimed in, raising her tea and wondering if anyone would pick up on the fact that she was abstaining tonight.

For a while, it would be easy enough to explain—she had a touch of a sore throat or a cold or just couldn’t get warm thanks to the snow.

She wouldn’t start to show for another month or two, but eventually, there would be no containing her burgeoning belly.

She wasn’t ready to share the news broadly.

Not yet.

She wanted to cherish this time, this short window where it was her and the baby.

“Aww, thanks.” Matt blushed and took a sip. “It’s going to be a banger tonight.”

“You can say that again.” Lucinda downed more of her drink.

Matt shook his head as if to stop her from saying more.

Something was brewing between them. Jill couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew they were both on edge.

The tension was undeniable and thicker than the snowfall outside.

They looked like two people teetering on the edge of something irreversible like they were mere seconds from stepping off into an abyss, and neither of them was sure who was going to leap first.

“So, what’s the vibe?” Jill asked, clearing her throat and cradling her tea. “What are we doing first? Food? Dancing?”

“Don’t forget fireworks,” Lucinda interrupted. Her smile was sharp. “Literally and figuratively, right, Matt?”

Matt hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, but that’s later. I vote let’s grab snacks and find a spot to eat.” He motioned to the food tables. “Who’s with me?”

“Me!” Meg raised her hand like a schoolgirl. “You had me at ‘snacks.’”

They started toward the buffet. Jill caught a flash of movement behind the crowd. She turned her head and spotted Owen.

He cut through the guests like a man on a mission. His eyes were locked in on her.

Something was about to happen.

She could feel it.

But was this good, or bad?