Page 39 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
“No,” Jill said finally, shaking her head. “Nothing official.”
Meg studied her for a minute. Jill was quiet and distracted.
Is she avoiding the subject?
Did she already know Matt was going to propose tonight?
No, Jill would give her some warning, surely.
She tried not to read too much into the bittersweet look on Jill’s face, but something about it made her chest ache again.
They sat in the flickering silence, both watching the same fire, side by side, but in two different worlds.
Meg sipped her drink and craned her neck toward the sky, her breath puffing out little bursts like the smoke from the roaring bonfire. Everything smelled like Christmas—the woodsy smoke, the warming spices in the mulled wine, hints of savory grilled meats wafting their way. The stars overhead seemed to envelop them in a brilliant, sparkling hug of light. Meg had forgotten how many stars she could see in the high desert. The ceiling was so low it was like she could reach out and touch it.
The mood should have been festive, but the thought that Matt was about to get on one knee and profess his love toLucinda with her watching was too much to stomach. She caught a glance at Johanna, who was caught up in a conversation with Owen near the food tables.
Meg couldn’t tell if her friend was trying to hard-sell Owen on joining the ESPN team or if something was imploding at work. Johanna was off, too. She kept checking her phone, even though she’d silenced notifications earlier.
When Matt and Lucinda finally arrived, the vibe shifted.
They arrived to cheers and happy applause and made a beeline for drinks.
“The birthday guy is here, let’s get this party started,” Lucinda said cheerfully, joining everyone at the fire and raising her copper mug in a toast. “To Matt. Here’s to a new decade and chapter! Tomorrow, we officially welcome you to the Thirty Club, and let me tell you, speaking as someone older and wiser by five months, it just gets better from here. I think we have many, many happy days ahead.”
Matt’s cheeks reddened, but he clinked his pint glass to hers as everyone raised their mugs in a celebratory toast. He looked ridiculously handsome in a retro eighties ski jacket with bold primary-colored stripes across the chest. They had clearly coordinated their outfits because Lucinda wore a matching jacket. Her hair was tied in two long braids and covered with a vintage hat that made her look like she’d stepped straight from the pages of a ski catalog.
Meg did her best to avoid getting stuck with either of them but somehow found herself shoulder to shoulder with Lucinda as she moved closer to the fire to roast a marshmallow.
“Oh, Meg, I’m so glad you’re here.” Lucinda threw her arms around Meg, squeezing her tight like they were long-lost friends.
“I’m glad the timing worked. I’m here on assignment, so I’ll pop into what I can, but don’t expect me for everything. Tomorrow, I’ll be at the racecourse most of the day.” She triedto shrug out of Lucinda’s grasp. The more space she could put between them, the better.
“But you’re coming to the birthday dinner tomorrow night, right? It’s forest formal, and it’s going to be a bash. You don’t want to miss it. Trust me. You have to come to the dinner, Meg. Pinkie swear.” Lucinda held out her pinkie.
“I don’t know. It will depend on how long the race goes and the time I need to write the first draft of my story. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” Meg wasn’t about to commit to any additional events, especially if Lucinda ended the evening with a fat diamond ring on her finger.
“Please try.” Lucinda grabbed her arm. “It means so much to Matt to have you here. He talks about you nonstop. It’s like you two were siblings separated at birth.”
Siblings?
He thought of her as a sister?
Great.
Perfect.
What could be better?
Meg’s marshmallow slipped off the skewer, falling into the fire and melting into an oozing mess. That pretty much summed up how she felt inside.
She used to be convinced that Matt was the guy she was going to marry.
He thought of her as a sister.
Could this night get worse?
“Oh, dear. Hold tight.” Lucinda handed Meg her drink to hold while she grabbed more marshmallows. “Here, try again. They’re slippery little suckers, aren’t they?”
