Page 6 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
Her phone buzzed on the antique wooden desk, rattling with a barrage of congratulatory texts from friends and colleagues around the world.
That felt like something. Not necessarily good, but a version of good.
She could almost hear Gam’s voice, steady and certain, encouraging her to lean into the accomplishment and the baggage that came with it.
Meg gripped her fingers tighter around her phone, willing it to buzz again—wishing.
Maybe he’d seen it?
Maybe he’d call?
Or send his congratulations through Jill.
But the one person she wanted to hear from more than anyone else was silent. Not that she should have been surprised. When she said goodbye to Matt, she made her choice. She knew that leaving would forever alter both of their futures.
And still, she couldn’t stay.
He knew it, too. At his core. Maybe he hadn’t been willing to admit it. Maybe he hadn’t been ready to see it. But deep down, Meg believed he knew.
He knew she had to go, even if it broke both of their hearts.
She’d never forget the day he’d begged her to stay, his big blue eyes turning glassy as he’d held her hand and whispered softly, “Megs, please stay.”
It wasn’t a fair ask.
Her career versus him.
It was an impossible choice.
He admitted as much as he left her at the airport with a parting kiss, giving her the same genuine, sappy smile that always made her knees feel like they might give out. “Or I could come with you.”
She had shaken her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“Yeah, okay,” he’d said with resignation. “Go live your wild dreams. You deserve this, but try not to forget about me, okay?”
She didn’t look back. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she power-walked to the gate and decided right then and there that she was going to go cold turkey when it came to Matt Parker. It was the only way.
They’d gone over every scenario—her staying in Bend, Matt trekking to New York with her, or continuing to try and make long-distance work, where they spent every other weekend flying halfway across the country. None of it made sense. None of it had lasting power.
It was wearing them both thin.
So Meg opted to leave it up to fate. If they were meant to be together, they’d find a way back. And if not—well—if not…
She hadn’t fully considered the “if not” back then. She only knew that Matt was her crutch—the person she texted daily pics of her morning coffee, the one she called when an assignment bombed or she couldn’t find her way into a story, the guy she stayed up way past her bedtime with on video chats, her eyes growing heavy as she drifted off to sleep before the phone hit her face startled her awake again.
They had tried—earnestly tried, but it was over, and remaining connected even as friends was just too painful.
Now, here she was, with the biggest story of her life staring back at her and no Matt Parker to share it with.
Deception and Lies—that was the headline of theNYTfeature she’d pitched and had accepted as a freelance piece:How My Father Faked His Death to Bring Down a Criminal Drug Ring.
It was still hard to process that the story, which was so much more than a side hustle, inked in print in arguably one of the most revered publications in the world, washerstory. It was a story she’d been trying to run from for the last seven years.
To finally share it in such broad strokes felt equally right and oddly deflating.
Meg—NYT, baby!!!
A text from Jill, her best friend, appeared on her screen.
