Page 89 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

My throat was tight, so all I did was nod.

“Let’s enjoy tonight,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks, Aaron,” I replied. And I meant it. I was grateful that he was still here, still welcoming, and still my friend. From the look in his eyes, I knew he understood what I meant.

Aaron dipped his chin in response, and then went to speak to one of his uncles. I took a seat beside Mr. Butler, who nodded at me.

When the silence stretched, I asked the question I already knew the answer to: “Is Lizzie coming?”

Mr. Butler gave me a long, steady look. Finally, when I was just about ready to squirm out of the interaction, he shook his head. “She’s spending the evening with her kids,” he told me.

I nodded.

“Her mother and I called her today to wish her a Happy New Year,” Mr. Butler went on. “We had a long talk.”

“Oh?” I asked, not sure where the older man was taking the conversation. The silence between us stretched.

“Felt like I finally got my little girl back,” he finally replied. “The one who was stubborn and hard-headed while she smiled the whole time. Just waiting for the smile to come back.”

My throat tightened. “She’s one of a kind,” I replied.

Mr. Butler gave me a long look and finally nodded. Then, as I breathed a sigh of relief, he shifted the conversation to my new job with Grant, and the topic of Lizzie—and her absence—was set aside.

It was an evening of good cheer and pleasant conversation, and it made me feel like dying. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d hoped to see Lizzie here tonight. How much I wanted to pull her aside and find the right combination of words to fix the mess I’d made of our relationship.

How could a week without Lizzie feel like such an eternity?

The minutes bled into hours, and champagne and drinks flowed freely for everyone else while they tasted bitter on mytongue. The kids bounced off the walls, excited to be up hours past their bedtimes to ring in the New Year. I tried my best to ignore the itch under my skin, but as eleven o’clock became eleven thirty, my thoughts swirled and swirled around one person.

The woman I loved.

Lizzie.

It wasn’t until the cold air slapped my face that I realized I was outside. And then I was in my truck, peeling off down the street toward the woman who’d made me remember that life wasn’t just worth living; it was worth celebrating.

I couldn’t keep hibernating during the holidays every year, and it wasn’t just because I was letting Mikey down. I was living a smaller life than I should. I was keeping myself tied down to old hurts, just like Margaret had pointed out. I was letting my father’s actions, my mother’s passing, and Melody’s betrayal get in the way of my happiness.

And right now, happiness had a face. It had deep brown eyes and a smile full of sunlight. Two cute dimples that only showed up when her grin was real. It had curves and soft lips, and it was the only woman I’d ever fallen head over heels in love with.

I’d tried to fight it. I’d tried to date women who were perfect and not-so-perfect for me on paper. I’d tried to pursue her while I ignored the gnawing ache in my chest.

But now I knew the truth.

The only way to get her back was to drop to my knees and beg her for forgiveness. I had to tell her what was in my heart. Prove to her that she’d changed my life—that she’d changedme.

I’d met my match, and I wasn’t ready to let her go.

FORTY

LIZZIE

The house wasquiet except for the sound of the TV, where the big clock along the bottom of the screen announced how many minutes we had until this year rolled into the next. It was a matter of minutes.

The kids had dozed off around ten o’clock, snuggled under blankets on the couch. I sat beside them, sipping a mug of hot cocoa, wondering how my own new beginning would pan out.

I wasn’t ready to turn my back on my family. Tonight—and the rest of the week since Christmas—had been a much-needed break from the chaos of family events, but it wasn’t how I wanted to spend my years. I missed the laughter and too-loud conversation of our parties. I missed the little pastry-wrapped wieners my mom brought out around eleven o’clock every year. I missed the bad champagne and the ear-splitting noisemakers that would make all the kids laugh when the clock struck midnight.

But I didn’t want to be the designated babysitter, cook, and maid. I wanted to beme—and it was my responsibility to make that happen.

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