Page 25 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

LOGAN

T he evening of the ugly sweater party, Logan pulled up in front of Mia's cabin, headlights sweeping over the snow-laden pines.

He'd been unable to think of much else all day except Mia's announcement the night before.

By now, she would have met with them. He had a sinking feeling the job would be perfect for her—a second chance at the career she loved.

The thought of her leaving made his stomach clench.

It was his own fault, falling too fast and too hard for a woman who clearly had no ties to this community.

She would go without looking back, leaving him with nothing but a broken heart.

It felt as if he had cement in his shoes as he trudged to the door and knocked. Cannoli barked once from inside before the door opened and Mia stepped out, wearing a sweater with Santa in a tall chef’s hat, holding a tray of cookies shaped like Christmas trees and snowflakes.

Of course she looked adorable in it. “You look great,” he said.

“Cannoli’s not happy she doesn’t get to go,” Mia said.

“Poor little girl,” Logan said.

She laughed at the sight of his sweater. “That’s quite something.”

He’d chosen one with Santa wearing aviator sunglasses and crossing his arms, with “Naughty List Enforcement Unit” printed across the chest. “You’ll see worse before the night’s over.”

“I can’t wait.”

Logan held the car door open for her and she slid into the passenger seat.

The drive toward Charlie and Max’s was quiet at first, snow drifting lazily through the beams of his headlights. He could feel the tension radiating off her. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d already made her decision. He could feel it.

“How did your meeting go?” Logan gripped the steering wheel, bracing himself.

“It was good. I still can’t believe they thought of me for it.

The concept’s absolutely perfect for me.

It’s a modern flagship Italian restaurant in the Flatiron District, built around authentic regional dishes.

They want it to feel like gathering at an Italian family table, with my own twists on the classics.

I would have full creative control over the menu, as well as decor and staff. ”

Logan kept his eyes on the snowy road ahead. “Sounds hard to pass up.”

“It would be my chance for a comeback.”

He nodded, jaw tight. “That’s a big deal.”

“It is. I’m happy here. But it’s hard not to be a little excited about this.”

He nodded, forcing himself to sound supportive when inside he felt like he might be dying. “That sounds incredible. You’ve worked hard for this kind of offer.”

“I know. It’s just that I love it here. I’m finally feeling like I belong here. Would I be foolish to turn it down?”

Her words landed heavy in his chest, but he managed a smile. “Only you can answer that question.”

“Is that true? Or do you want to weigh in? You know, from a boyfriend type of perspective.”

“I don’t want to hold you back,” Logan said.

She didn’t say anything, turning to look out her window.

“How did you end it with them?” Logan held his breath.

“I told them I needed a few days to think about it.”

A few days. In a few days, his heart was about to be broken into a thousand pieces. It would take a fool not to see that as clearly as the Christmas lights on Max and Charlie’s house.

They pulled up the long drive to the farmhouse. Charlie had gone all in on Christmas. Wreaths hung in every window, garlands entwined with twinkling lights draped along the porch rail, and two big trees inside glittered through the front windows.

When he held open the car door for her, she placed her hand on his arm. “Please, let’s just have fun tonight and not think about all of this.”

“Sounds good.” But that was a lie. How could he think of anything else but the possibility that she might leave him?

Inside, the house was warm and noisy, the scent of spiced cider mingling with pine. Charlie greeted them at the door, her ugly sweater covered in appliqué poinsettias. “Come in, come in. Merry Christmas.”

Max swept over in his own sweater, which featured a moose wearing sunglasses and a Santa hat. “It’s about time you two got here. I’m already two drinks in. And those are some ugly sweaters.”

Mia laughed. “I was pretty thrilled to find this one on short notice.”

“You did good,” Max said. “You both did.”

Logan grinned. “I’ve had this one since October.”

Walking into the house, Logan and Mia noticed Logan’s nieces and nephews gathered with Patty’s kids near one of the two trees, laughing and sucking on candy canes.

Patty appeared a moment later, wearing a green and red plaid sweater.

“You guys, I have news. Grant Stratton offered me the housekeeping position. I start after the holidays. And we’re moving into the guest cottage, which is bigger than my current rental and is brand new.

It even has three bedrooms, so Benji doesn’t have to share with the girls.

I can’t thank you enough. This is all because of you two. ”

“That’s wonderful, Patty,” Mia said warmly, her eyes lighting. “He made the decision so quickly.”

Patty nodded. “I know. Mr. Stratton appears to be a very decisive person. I made sure he understood I had children and that they would live with me on the property, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He said they would liven the place up. Although, his eyes got kind of sad, which makes me think he’s lost someone.

I didn’t want to ask too many questions, so I don’t know much about him.

I looked online but couldn’t find anything about him.

Hopefully he’s as nice as he seems. He even said I could use one of his cars.

He has like seven of them.” Patty’s voice wavered just slightly, her gratitude raw beneath the cheer.

“It’s more than I could ever have hoped for. ”

“I couldn’t be more pleased for you and the kids,” Logan said.

Patty’s smile was as wide as her face. “We’re all going to have a wonderful new year. I just know it.”

Charlie led Patty and Mia over to the bar for a drink, but Logan stayed behind, just watching.

For a minute, he let himself sink into the warmth of it all—the food, the music, the easy flow of conversation.

His brothers and their wives and children filled the room with laughter, but, as he watched them from his corner, something twisted in his chest. He'd wanted so badly to make Mia part of this family, and only now, when he might lose her, did he realize exactly how much.

Max drifted over to Logan, handing him a glass of wine. “What’s up? Is everything okay with you and Mia?”

Logan glanced at him, then took a sip. “I thought so. Until yesterday. She got an offer for a job in New York. A big one. The restaurant of her dreams.”

Max studied him for a moment. “Does she want to go?”

“She says she’s happy here. But the way she talked about it on the way here, I’m pretty sure Sugarville Grove and I are toast.” Logan stared into his glass.

“I can’t fault her for being excited. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.

” He shook his head. “I can’t shake the feeling I’m going to lose her. ”

Max clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a good thing, Logan. Don’t borrow trouble before it’s here. And don’t underestimate Mia. She’s surprised you so far, hasn’t she?”

Logan gave a short laugh. “Every step of the way, yeah.”

Max smiled, but there was understanding in his eyes. “Then you hold on. But give her a little space. Don’t push too hard or you’ll drive her away.”

Logan huffed out a laugh despite the tightness in his chest. “Given who I am, that’s easier said than done.”

Across the room, Mia caught his eye and smiled at him. All he could think was how badly he didn’t want to lose her.

The drive back to Mia’s started out quiet. Not the good, comfortable kind they sometimes had, but one charged with everything not being said. Mia kept her gaze fixed out the window, hands clasped tight in her lap.

He’d spent the whole night pretending he wasn’t thinking about her offer. He couldn’t pretend anymore. His need to talk it through outweighed his desire to have a fun evening.

“Can we talk about your job offer?” His tone was even but it felt like a coiled snake lurked in his belly.

Mia glanced at him, wary. “I told you, I’m thinking it over for a few days.”

“But you know already, don’t you?” His voice sharpened. “How can you pass up your dream job? People like us—we don’t choose love over ambition.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “That’s not fair to say.”

“Isn’t it? The only reason you came here is because you were desperate. Now, you’re not.” He looked at her briefly, his jaw tight. “There’s no way you’re saying no.”

Her chin lifted, that spark of independence flashing in her eyes. “I haven’t made any decisions yet. And I don’t appreciate being told what I’m going to do or not do.”

“Can you really sit there and tell me you’re not going to jump at the chance?” Logan shot back. “You don’t have to sugar coat it for me. I know you’re leaving. The shiny thing’s too tempting.”

Her voice cooled. “That ‘shiny thing’ is something I’ve worked for my entire career. I won’t ask you to understand, but I’d hoped you’d support me enough to let me think about it without making me feel guilty.”

Logan’s hands flexed on the wheel. “I am being supportive.”

“Sure doesn’t sound like it.”

The words hung between them, razor-sharp and heavy.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, the tension crushing his soul.

When he pulled up in front of her cabin, Mia hesitated before unbuckling her seatbelt.

“After this conversation, it seems clear I need some space from you. I need to think about what I truly want without feeling pulled in a certain direction.”

His chest tightened. He wanted to argue, to demand she let him in. Instead, he just nodded. “If that’s what you need.”

“It is. However, that doesn’t mean my feelings for you aren’t deep, because they are.

You’ve brought me back to life these last few weeks—and that’s no small thing.

That said, you have to think of all of this from my point of view.

I had everything taken from me, and now I have a chance to get it all back. ”

“You may have had everything taken from you four years ago but I thought you saw what you had here as being equal or better to what you had back in the city. But clearly you’re willing to give it all up, which means your feelings about me can’t run that deep.”

He saw her flinch. Saw her eyes harden and then dull. “Yeah, okay, well, thanks for the support, Logan. I’ll see you at class.”

She flung the door of the car open and charged through the snow to her back door.

She didn’t turn back, merely unlocked the door, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind her.

He forced himself to drive away, the golden glow of her windows not the only thing that was fading away in his rearview mirror.

Logan didn’t turn on any lights when he got home.

He tossed his coat over the back of a chair and stood in the doorway of the kitchen—the place that had started to feel like theirs.

Even in the darkness, he could picture her so clearly: sleeves rolled up as she worked at the counter, something simmering on the stove, Cannoli stretched out in front of the fire.

He’d imagined himself leaning against the island, stealing tastes and lazy kisses, thinking this was exactly how life was supposed to feel.

Now the silence pressed against him, and the empty kitchen felt like a monument to everything he’d never have.

He pulled a beer from the fridge, cracked it open, and leaned against the counter, disgusted with himself. He’d promised Max he wouldn’t push. That he wouldn’t let his temper and stubborn streak screw this up. And then he’d gone and done exactly that, both feet in.

He thought about texting her. Just one word— sorry. But she’d made it clear she wanted space.

Instead, he took a long pull from his beer, the bitterness coating his tongue like regret.

He stared at the empty counter, the clean stovetop, the blank expanse where all his daydreams of her had lived.

Maybe it would be easier to pretend the last few weeks had been nothing more than a beautiful mistake.

Easier than showing up Tuesday and watching her teach with that quiet passion of hers, knowing she’d already chosen to walk away from all of it—from the students who adored her, from the community that needed her. From him.

He set the bottle down with a sharp clink that echoed through the silence.

Two lessons left, but he couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t sit there pretending to focus on cooking techniques while his heart broke a little more each time she smiled at someone else, each time she offered encouragement he’d never receive again.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that none of it had meant what he thought it did.

A soft thud from the living room broke the silence, followed by the sound of careful paws on hardwood.

Matilda appeared in the doorway, her usual haughty expression replaced by something almost …

concerned? She studied him for a long moment, then did something she’d never done before—she padded over and rubbed against his leg.

Logan stared down at her, stunned. “Even you feel sorry for me now?”

Instead of her typical disdainful flick of the tail, Matilda wound around his ankles again, then sat directly on his feet and began to purr. The sound was rusty, as if she was out of practice with genuine affection.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” Logan said, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. “When the cat who hates everyone starts being nice to me, I must really be pathetic.”

Matilda’s purr grew louder, and she pressed her head into his palm. For once, she wasn’t plotting world domination or ways to torment Cannoli or get more treats out of him. She was just being a cat who sensed her human needed comfort.

“Thanks, Matilda. At least someone still likes me.”