Page 26 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
Thank goodness for Gam’s insistence that Meg practice positive self-talk.
She was going to need all the positive self-talk to get through the next couple of days.
Inside the lodge, the scent of woodsmoke and toasted marshmallows enveloped her. Meg scanned the massive lobby with its knotty pine walls, cozy collections of couches, and touches of plaid. Everything was draped in rich holiday décor—swaths of garlands with sprigs of holly, bunches of mistletoe hanging from wrought-iron chandeliers, and dainty twinkle lights framing every window.
She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to hold in her nerves as she quickly scanned the lobby again.
No sign of him—yet.
Whew.
Jill jumped to her feet and waved from the twenty-foot-tall stone fireplace blazing with logs practically as big as Meg. Stockings filled with peppermint sticks, oranges, and pretty little wrapped packages hung from the ornate wood mantel.
“Meg! Meg, Meggy, Meg!” She did a funky dance that only Jill could pull off. Jill was a true beauty in the classic sense. She was tall and thin, with a bone structure that even models would envy. Her silky, thick chestnut hair fell to her shoulders and was streaked with perfect honey highlights.
Jill wasn’t oblivious to the fact that men and women tended to ogle over her, but she wasn’t fazed by it—she never had been.
In their early twenties, she’d gone through a phase where she dated men who were handsome on the outside but completely misaligned with her heart and passions. Fortunately, she had outgrown that phase and was currently in a long-term relationship with Owen Sheehan, a lanky, funny Irish redhead woodworker, sculptor, and creative jack of all trades she had met in Italy.
Owen stood next to Jill and mimicked her wave. “Maggie, Maggie is in the house.”
“In the house?” Meg teased him as he pulled her in for a burly hug. “Wasn’t that saying dead like ten years ago?”
“You must remember that slang in Ireland takes that long to catch up.” Owen flashed her a cheeky grin.
“Don’t listen to the old man, and his outdated attempt to make people think we’re still young and hip.” Jill winked at him and tackled Meg in a hug. “Meg, I’ve missed your face so much.” She proceeded to squeeze Meg to death.
Meg hugged her back just as fiercely, burying her face in the easy comfort of her oldest friend. There was something grounding about being around the people who knew you back when you were becoming yourself. Jill was that for Meg. They’d been friends since second grade, together like twins through so many awkward years—first dances, crushes, breakups, loss, every hard-earned triumph.
Jill had been by her side through it all.
And she was still here.
“Okay, loving the dress.” Jill stood back to give her a once-over. “And the hair. It’s the longest it’s ever been. You look freaking fantastic.”
Jill and Meg made a funny team. Jill towered over Meg and her five-foot-four-and-a-half frame—don’t even think about rounding down. While Meg’s pale skin tended to turn pink and burn if the sun even glanced in her direction, Jill’s olive complexion soaked up the rays, turning her arms into museum-quality bronze.
They were different in every way that didn’t count and similar in the things that mattered the most.
“You look prettyfreakingfantastic, too,” Meg said, noting Jill’s sleek black sweater dress that left little to the imagination. “Sexy.”
“That’s what I told her.” Owen grinned. Then he pointed to his Irish tweed slacks. “Aren’t you two going to comment on my look? I wanted to pack the kilt, but Jill wouldn’t let me.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Go get Meg a drink.”
“As you wish.” Owen bowed to her dramatically and made a beeline for the bar.
Jill laughed. “He’s such a kid.”
“Which is why he’s great for you.”
Jill nodded, but Meg noticed a flash of sadness cross her face as she motioned to the empty chair next to hers. “Sit. I can’t wait to hear everything. I need every gory detail on your dating life, New York, and your mom’s engagement. When does Johanna arrive? Oh, and how’s Gam?”
“Where to start?” Meg grinned, stealing another glance toward the front doors.
Still no Matt.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
