Page 58 of No Time for Traditions

Brittany shrugged, her face glowing. “It’s kind of our thing, kissing under the mistletoe.”

Greg laughed. “Now that’s one tradition I’ll always make time for.”

Greg pulled her in tightly and looked across the room at the decorations. He had no need to keep them up any longer. Brittany was all the light he’d ever need.

Epilogue

In the past two weeks, Brittany had learned three things. First, she was born to be a writer. Second, her true home was in Hillside with Greg. And third, she would never want to work as an airline stewardess. Four flights in a row between Alabama and New York were plenty to keep her craving the ground.

She’d spent two days back in Alabama, settling into the guest bedroom at her parents’ home, which was way more grown-up—and way less purple—than her old bedroom. But the purple room made for a fun writing nook.

With Cassandra’s blessing of allowing her to work mainly remotely and her boyfriend a driveway away, Brittany decided to fly back and get the ball rolling on listing her apartment in Tribeca. When she told Alice the news, she’d immediately offered her couch anytime Brittany came back into the city. On the condition that she make time to squeeze in a Pilates class, of course.

Despite the travel exhaustion, Brittany hadn’t minded making this particular trip back. Not only would she get to see her No Brides Club friends tonight, but she’d also get to introduce them to the main reason she was leaving: Greg.

Brittany walked out of her apartment bedroom and smiled. Greg sat on the couch, fidgeting with a throw pillow as he scanned channels on the TV.

“You hate being inside this long, don’t you?”

Greg turned his head and grinned. “Is it that obvious?”

Brittany laughed. “Totally.”

“Then again, I’ve had a busy day playing arm candy.” He winked.

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re not done just yet. I want you to meet a few more people.”

Greg folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You know, I don’t remember you being this social back in high school.”

Since they’d arrived late that morning, Greg had met Alice, her coworkers at First Fiction Press, and Kinsley when she stopped by to take photos of the apartment for the listing.

“I’m still not. If you consider the number of people in New York compared to the number of people in Hillside . . .” Brittany cut her eyes to the ceiling, pretending to do the math. “I’d have like point zero, zero, zero, zero, one friends.”

“Okay.” Greg laughed. “What do I need to wear to this Tavern place?”

“Your woodsman business casual is fine.”

Greg stood and stared down at his long-sleeve Columbia button-down and Carhartt khakis. “You sure?”

“Trust me, the place is crawling with suits. You’ll be like a breath of fresh air. I’ll have to chase women off of you.”

Greg laughed and circled behind the couch. He wrapped his arms around Brittany’s waist. “Then you’ll have to stay close so they know I’m taken.”

“Done.” Brittany smiled, and he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

A few minutes later, they were back on the streets of New York, fighting the cold.

Greg pulled his coat collar up around his ears. “With all the walking back and forth today, I may as well be surveying.”

Brittany laughed. “It’s still more efficient than trying to have a car here.”

“I bet.” Greg glanced around as they made their way to Briarwood Tavern. “These streets are cool, though. Kind of reminds me of Charleston.”

“Just wait. The place we’re going has hot wings.”

She grinned when Greg’s eyes got big. He licked his lips and smiled.

Brittany led him upstairs to the top floor of the restaurant. Greg gripped her hand as they shuffled single file through a sea of people by the bar.

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