Page 4 of Christmas On Anchor Island

“Mia is living her life; she just isn’t living it the way you think she should. If you can’t see the irony in that, then I can’t help you.”

Henri opened her mouth to argue and then snapped it shut. Her cousin had a point. She’d lived life on her own terms for so long that maybe she’d forgotten how things had been before. Sure, times had changed, but not entirely. And not for everyone.

“I just know she’d be happier without having to pretend all the time.”

Callie straightened after loading toys into the playpen. “Probably, but that’s her call. Maybe if you stopped pushing and told her how you feel about her, she’d come to that conclusion on her own.”

Was this give Henri shit night?

“For your information, I told her how I feel before I left in June.”

“Which was a crappy thing to do.”

“Make up your mind. You just said I should tell her.”

“I’m talking about the leaving part.” Callie strolled around the table and lifted Roxanne into her arms. “What you did was give her an ultimatum, and when she didn’t choose you over her grandmother, you threw a fit and stormed off the island.” One brow arched, she added, “Very mature of you.”

There had been no ultimatum given. At least not out loud.

“If I remember correctly, you once broke up with Sam over email. You really want to play the mature game?”

Propping Roxanne on her hip, Callie stood her ground. “That was six years and three children ago. Meaning I’d have missed out on all of this had I not come to my senses. What if you end up missing out?”

Their situations were nothing alike. “Mia and I are complicated.”

Callie had the nerve to laugh. “That’s exactly what I told Sam in that email. That we were complicated.”

To be fair, years before they had both landed on Anchor Island, Callie’s husband and Sam’s wife had been sleeping together and while off on a lovers’ tryst, both died in a fiery crash. That definitely qualified as complicated.

“This still isn’t the same. Mia and I can’t exactly stroll off into a happily ever after if she wants her grandmother to keep thinking she’s straight. I’ve been mistaken for a lot of things, but a man isn’t one of them.”

Callie crossed to the kitchen counter and pulled two baby bottles from the cabinet. “You could always pull an Aunt Lucille.”

Now it was Henri’s turn to laugh. Lucille hadn’t technically been their aunt, since she was a distant cousin to their mothers, but they’d still referred to her as such their whole lives. The older woman never married, but she had a roommate named Donna. For fifty-seven years. As far as Henri knew, the whole family had either been clueless or chosen to pretend they were.

The two women never showed the slightest sign of physical affection for each other, but by the time Henri was ten she’d recognized the looks they’d exchange. She couldn’t have put a name to it back then, but she knew.

“That would only work if I wasn’t out either.”

Blue eyes met hers. “So you’d consider it if not for that?”

This was a pointless conversation. “Cal, I’m out. She isn’t. And she isn’t interested in changing that. You need to let this go.”

Leaving the bottles on the counter, Callie shuffled to the playpen and set Roxanne down beside her sister, who was gnawing on a bunny teething ring. “I just don’t think you should give up, that’s all.”

She couldn’t give up something she never had in the first place, and two weeks of having this discussion—because she knew her cousin well enough to know this wouldn’t be the end of it—was going to require something stronger than a soda.

“Please tell me you have wine.”

Callie handed Roxanne a stuffed lamb. “The fridge is fully stocked, but I can’t have more than one glass since Sam is out of town.”

Leaping from her seat, Henri grabbed a glass from the cabinet before opening the small fridge tucked into the center island. “More for me.” As she’d suspected, the stash included her favorite Riesling. “Do you want to hear the latest shenanigans your mother has been up to? Though you might want to have that one glass ready before hearing the story.”

Properly distracted, as Henri knew she would be, Callie sighed. “She isn’t still fighting with the neighbor over garden flags, is she?”

“No, they’ve formed a truce for now. This one involves the church ladies and a battle over supplying baked goods to the new choir director. The single, silver fox choir director.”

“Oh, God.”

“Allegedly, that’s what Miss Dottie said when she took him a dozen of her special brownies, but she is neither confirming nor denying.”

Leaning her hands on the counter, Callie laughed. “I missed having you around. Promise not to stay gone so long the next time.”

Henri filled her glass before carrying it and the bottle to the table. “I’ll see what I can do.”

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