Page 17 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
“Do you know yet what you want to write?” Gam asked softly, holding Meg’s gaze. “Has writing about your dad made space for new stories to come through?”
Meg considered it for a minute. She had taken the old adage of “with great power comes great responsibility” to heart when it came to writing theNew York Timespiece, a story that was almost a decade in the making. She’d written in snippets with lots of stops and starts when her memories were too raw to mine. She’d interviewed experts and poured every ounce of her own vulnerability and mistakes on the page.
She’d felt equally naked and free when it was finally done.
She’d called Gam, lamenting about how she felt like she had ignited a fire she didn’t know how to put out.
Gam’s wise words had calmed her. “Maybe that fire is what you need to burn down what was false and show up in the world as your most authentic self.”
That’s what she’d been trying to do—live authentically.
Her audience had exploded in the past few days, thanks to theNYTstory, but leaving ESPN wasn’t as easy as Mom made it sound. There were very practical issues with quitting a steady job—like health insurance, paying rent, and finding a way to silence the negative voice in her head telling her she couldn’t embrace her next dream and write a book.
Could she?
“I have some ideas about what I want to write next,” Meg finally said to Gam, not ready to say it out loud.
“Then this is the time to seize that, isn’t it, honey?” Mom pressed, a slight touch of anxiety creeping into her voice.
“I don’t know, maybe.” Meg felt heat rising in her cheeks. She took a slow breath, catching Gam’s eye, who gave her a quick, encouraging nod. “Is ESPN my dream job? No. I mean, it wasn’t when I started, but it’s been an amazing experience. I’ve seen so much of the world and met the coolest people, all while refining my writing and reporting style. There are a lot of other things I’d love to write, but it pays the rent and my student loans, and I’ve carved out a solid career there.”
Mom frowned but topped off her champagne, wisely not saying more. Maybe they’d both grown up a bit.
Gam patted Meg’s arm. “Trust the process. Keep following your truth, and your next path will appear.”
“I’m trying,” Meg replied truthfully. “That’s why I’m here. This weekend is about closing a chapter, so to speak.”
Closing a chapter on love.
Gam smiled, but this time, there was a touch of sadness behind her bright eyes. Gam had been heartbroken, too. She had fallen for a hunky sheriff (her words, not Meg’s) who turned out to be involved in drug running. Sure, she’d been disappointed that it hadn’t worked out, but more so, it had shaken her trust in herself. Gam had always used her inner guidance as a compassthat had never steered her wrong. Every conversation they had, she would bring it up, continuing to let go of that lingering doubt. Meg knew it was hard for her, but she wished that Gam would give herself a break.
Maybe she should take her own advice.
“But can I say one more thing? Just something for you to consider. New York is so expensive. What about moving back home?” Mom held her champagne flute to her lips and gave Meg an exacting gaze. “With turning thirty and Matt’s birthday, have you taken some time to ask yourself what you want next? Marriage, kids?”
“Geez, I thought we were toasting my success.” Meg gulped a sip of champagne. She’d been trying to avoid this exact topic. Of course, she’d thought about her future. Most days it was all she thought about. She used to imagine marriage and kids with Matt, but now that was nothing more than a fantasy. “Now I’m facing the firing squad.”
“Firing squad? Sorry. I don’t mean it like that.” Mom shot her an apologetic smile. “I want you to be happy. That’s all.”
“I am happy.” Meg could hear the irritation growing stronger. Mom still had a way of getting under her skin. Or, maybe in fairness, she was feeling prickly because Mom was right. “I’m proud of the work I’ve done at ESPN, and I’ll figure the rest out,” she said, shifting the topic away from her lackluster love life. “You know, they sent me on this assignment because I’m the master at crafting personal story arcs and pulling in new viewers.”
“I know you are, honey.” Mom’s voice turned soothing like she was trying to pacify Meg or maybe keep herself in check. “I just don’t want you to wake up one day and wonder where time has gone. Trust me, it vanishes way too fast. I feel like yesterday you were in diapers, and now you’re a fully fledged adult with bylines in theNew York Times.”
Meg decided it was best to drop the subject completely. There was no point in going head-to-head with her. Did she want to get married? Have kids? Maybe? But she wasn’t going to admit it.
Regardless of the looming thirtieth birthdays, there wasn’t much hope for marriage or kids in Meg’s future since she hadn’t been on a date in months. Sure, she’d dated on and off for the last year. But the New York scene wasn’t for her. It was an endless sea of bros—sports bros, tech bros, finance bros, and Brooklyn hipsters. No one compared to Matt.
He was perfect. Handsome, kind, funny, able to fix anything from a broken faucet to a bike tire, a true beer snob, masculine yet in in tune with his emotions, and a steadfast supporter of anything Meg had ever touched.
Why had she ever let him go?
There was no denying it. Especially here, in Oregon, where it had all begun. She was still hopelessly in love with Matt.
ELEVEN
JILL
Bend was even more beautiful than she remembered. Rugged mountains jutted up from the endless snowy plains, their peaks stretching to greet the sapphire sky. Spindly pine trees dotted the landscape, a pop of vibrant green against a backdrop of white. A herd of deer frolicked in the snow as their car sped along the two-lane highway. It looked like a holiday card come to life—bright, crisp, fresh, and impossibly cheery.
