Page 13 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

I shook my head. Now was not the time to get weepy. Definitely not in front of the whole family, and not in front of?—

I looked up and found Sean watching me. His brows were drawn as his gaze flicked to the stuffing dish, down to his almost-empty plate, over to the plates around him, and back to me. His lips parted slightly, and even with the chatter of conversation drowning out any noise he made, I knew he was pulling in a breath. He could tell I was upset about the stuffing, and that was just the most utterly humiliating thing I’d ever experienced. He probably thought I was ridiculous. Isaac sure did whenever I got upset about this kind of thing. My parents always told me to brush it off and not sweat the small stuff. They were probably right, and it was probably some character flaw that it hurt so damn much that notone single person?—

I forced my lips into a smile as I shrugged. It was fine. It was really, truly fine. I probably didn’t need the stuffing, anyway. A moment on the lips, as Mom so enjoyed reminding me. My own generous hips brushed against the chairs on either side as I shifted forward to grab a roll from the basket in front of me.

The turkey carcass had been picked over but there was enough for me, and I preferred the dark meat, anyway. The green beans were still going strong, and I’d made a truckload of potatoes, so between that and the rest of the sides that had been brought, there was more than enough food. Some of it wasa little cold, and it wasn’t exactly what I had wanted, but it was food. I was surrounded by family and friends, and this was a happy occasion.

This was Thanksgiving. I was thankful. Iwas. I wasn’t some hysterical, unreasonable woman who threw tantrums over stuffing. I had a big, loving family. Friends. Food. Life was good. I just had to keep reminding myself of it, and this pit in my stomach would go away, just like it always did.

I tucked in, and when I heard screeching from the kids’ table, I pretended not to. After a few long moments, Emily got up to go check on them, cracking jokes and acting like a martyr the whole time.

Never mind that I’d spent theentire day?—

No. I was not a bitter woman. I wouldnotlet this day get to me. I was just hungry, that was all. Focusing on cutting my turkey into tiny, bite-sized pieces, then loading up my fork with the perfect bite, I let the anger drain away. I wouldnotmake a scene. I wouldn’t ruin everyone’s day.

“So, Sean,” my dad said from his spot at the head of the table. “Are you in Heart’s Cove to stay?”

“That’s the plan,” the man said.

“How wonderful,” my mother added.

“We’re glad to have you back,” Dad agreed. “And Sandra told me that Lizzie was going to set you up with someone! A New Year’s kiss!” Dad chuckled. “Not a bad idea. And we all know how scatterbrained Lizzie can be, so it’s nice to give her a real deadline.”

Scatterbrained? I blinked, probably more offended than I should be. If I sometimes forgot things, it was because I had so much to manage on a daily basis! It wasn’t some innate character flaw. “Well—” I started.

“You have to put yourself out there, honey,” my mom told Sean. “Lizzie, you’ve already thought of some options for Sean, haven’t you?”

All eyes turned to me. My skin felt hot and tight, and I forced my aching cheeks into another giant smile. I would not cry. I didn’t even knowwhyI wanted to cry. Everything wasfine. “I’ll see what I can come up with,” I said, adding extra cheer to my voice.

“If there’s a woman out there who can cook half as well as you, I’m sold,” Sean said to raucous laughter and agreement. He met my gaze until my brother thumped him on the back, then he smiled as someone refilled his glass of wine.

He probably meant it as a compliment, but his words stung. It was just another reminder that it would never be me who was chosen, who was seen. It was some other woman who could cook like me, who could clean like me, who could fit the role and the look that I had never quite managed to squeeze into.

The turkey turned dry in my mouth, and I gulped it down. By the time the day was over, my entire body ached. I brought my dishes home along with my small plate of leftovers, got the kids ready for bed, then sat on the couch feeling completely, utterly drained.

SEVEN

SEAN

The doorbell chimedwhen I pushed the button, and I glanced down at the plastic container in my hand. This had been a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have come here, or I should have at least called ahead—but then again, it’s not like I had Lizzie’s phone number, and I wasn’t on social media so I couldn’t message her…

Small feet came running toward the door, and Lizzie’s daughter, Hazel, flung it open. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” assaulted my ears, blasting from speakers somewhere deep inside the home. The scent of warm spices—cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves—floated through the doorway. It was like getting slapped in the face by one of Santa’s elves.

I hated every second of it.

The little girl in the doorway blinked at me with her mother’s dark-brown eyes and yelled, “Mom! There’s a man at the door! He’s here with Mikey.”

“What? Who?” Lizzie’s voice called out from the far end of the hallway.

“Mikey! From yesterday!”

A second later, Lizzie appeared, silhouetted against the patio doors at the other end of the house. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, her brows jumping when she spotted me. “Sean?”

She was dressed in a cream sweater. In the middle of her chest was a felt appliqué of a reindeer featuring a flashing red light on the nose. On her head, a big red bow held her ponytail up. Her legs were clad in jeans, but on her feet, slippers designed to look like Santa’s boots completed the look. It looked like Santa Claus had stopped by and thrown up all over her.

Ridiculous. And adorable.

I despised the holidays, but the sight of her dressed like that made me want to smile.

---