Page 61 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

I groaned. “No. But about that, it turns out, he didn’t really ghost me. He did everything he could to contact me, but—you’ve got to humor for a minute here because this is going to sound like it’s straight out of a soap opera or something—his awful older sister sabotaged us. She switched our phone numbers and set up social media blocks and who knows what else. It might’ve actually been his sisterandhis dad since apparently they were both pretty tech-savvy and neither one of them liked me. But since his parents died, I didn’t want to suggest his dad might’ve played a role. Just knowing it wasn’t him—that he never wanted us to end … well, it’s enough. Plus, I got her uppity ass hauled out by security earlier when she tried to book a room here. It was amazing.”

I heard a shocked puff of air. “Mari! Oh my god, such drama, I can’t believe I’m missing it all. And he didn’t … oh, he was just as heartbroken as you were when your summer fling didn’t continue—oh, I—” she stopped, returning to sobbing. “I can’t, Mari, it’s like my heart has been broken twice tonight, once for me and once for you.”

“Aww, Hazel, I know the feeling. My heart aches for you. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, just like I have been for the past 10 years,” I assured her in my confident tone.

A short laugh erupted from her. “Oh, OK.”

My lips curled into a frown. “What?”

“Have you—” She stopped then and was silent for a few seconds. “Never mind. Anyway, so you still haven’t told me, why aren’t you and Terry getting together now?”

I felt my heart in my throat, and I couldn’t speak for a moment. Finally, I managed to say, “I just can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Why not?”

I inhaled and exhaled slowly. “We’re not compatible. Our business goals aren’t compatible. And I’m not the same person he fell in love with. It’s … it would never work.”

She was quiet for a moment. “But you love him, don’t you?”

I swallowed, willing the tears not to fall yet again. “I do.”

“And he loves you?”

“I … he said he did.” But he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He loves the person I used to be, not the one I am now, not the one I want to be.

“Then the rest shouldn’t matter,” she said softly. “You can make it work. It will be worth it, and you’ll see—”

“No. The restdoesmatter,” I said, a bit too forcefully. Then, more softly, I said, “It matters to me.”

“More than love?” When I didn’t answer, she let out a long, frustrated-sounding sigh. “Mari, you can have love, be with the one you love. He—he’s right there. You don’t have to move halfway across the damn world and give up your life to be with him. He’s right there. Willing to love you. And you’re saying no?”

When she put it that way, it sounded like I was doing something wrong. I bristled, “Just because he lives here doesn’t mean this is right for my life.”

She scoffed. “But you’ll never know, will you? Because you won’t even try.”

I swallowed, clenching my fists. “Hazel, that’s not fair.”

“No, Mari,” she said, a note of bitterness in her voice that I’d almost never heard. “What’s not fair is that you found the one, and he’s right there in front of you. But you think you can’t have it. Yet I found the one, and he’s … it’s impossible …” Her voice became muffled, and I could tell she was crying again.

“Hazel,” I pleaded, “let’s not compare. I know what I’m doing. Your situation—”

“I have to go now,” she said quickly, sniffling. “I can’t hear this. Don’t—don’t call me for a while. I need a break.”

Then the call ended.

My eyes were wide as I stared at the phone in shock and then set it down in front of me. I can’t remember when we’d ever fought before. Well, there was that one time in grad school, but we’d been drinking. And a couple of small spats about resort business, but nothing serious, nothing very personal. Nothing like this.

There was only one thing to do. I put my head on my desk and cried.

It seemed I had an endless supply of tears today.

Chapter 18

After too many days spent on the couch wallowing, I’d had enough. I was not a wallower.

I looked and smelled gross, as did my living room, kitchen, and bedroom, where I’d spent … how many days was it? Three or four, maybe. Possibly five. I’d gone off the grid except in the most dire emergencies, and only my general manager and top advisors were allowed to contact me. No one did. I think they were afraid.

But no more.

---