Page 64 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
She couldn’t even afford the luxury of falling apart.
Owen’s out, and now it’s you.
She sucked in a deep breath and sat up. The cozy cottage lost its charm as reality sank in that she was going to be a single mother.
But she wanted this baby. She was ready, even if it meant doing it alone. Plenty of successful women had raised childrenindependently—her favorite writer and poet, Maya Angelou, came to mind. Jill had the support of her parents, her friends, Meg.
Meg.
You have to tell Meg.
She tossed the pillow to the side. She needed Meg. Meg’s spunky, can-do attitude was exactly what this unfortunate circumstance called for. The timing was terrible, but at least her best friend was here.
Jill pushed the grate in front of the fire, grabbed her coat, and trudged outside into the storm to find Meg. On the short walk to Meg’s cabin, she practiced what to say.
“Meg, I have some news.”
Nope, too ominous.
“Meg, I’m preggers.”
No, too direct.
“Meg, how do you feel about being an auntie?”
Yep. That will do. To the point and positive.
Jill knocked softly on the door, summoning the last glimmer of courage. She needed Meg to be excited. Someone had to be.
A baby was good news. This should be a cause for celebration. Meg would do backflips at the thought of being a doting aunt to this baby.
She rubbed her belly and knocked again.
Meg opened the door, looking bleary-eyed. Her face was splotchy, and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. She’d obviously been crying.
“Hey,” she muttered, rubbing the side of her eye with her thumb.
“What’s wrong?” Jill momentarily forgot her own problems.
“Matt.” Meg’s voice quivered as she pointed to the living room. “He gave me a letter, and, damn, it’s a heartbreaker.”
“Oh, Meg.” Jill reached out and wrapped her friend in a hug. Meg fell into her arms sobbing.
“I’m an idiot.” Meg sniffed, releasing her and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Why has it taken me this long?”
Jill squeezed her hand. “Maybe because you weren’t ready.”
“You sound like Gam.” Meg cracked into a half smile briefly. “It’s a good letter. He took responsibility for everything, and honestly, the thing that finally broke me was that he told me I’m an inspiration, but basically, it’s too late for us.”
“You are an inspiration,” Jill interrupted.
“I don’t think so. I have this gap, you know? Like there has always been a piece of me that’s terrified I will end up like my dad—completely obsessed, willing to throw away everything I love for the sake of a story. I think that’s why I’ve been closed off. It’s why I’ve kept Matt at arm’s length and probably why I’ve stayed at ESPN for far too long. It was like seeing that on the page suddenly made me hyper-aware of how I’ve intentionally told myself I’m small and ignored the things that make me strong.”
“You’ve never been small,” Jill countered, feeling protective of Meg. “You’ve accomplished so much—ESPN is not a small job, Meg, and the NYTpiece.”
“Right, but I want even more. I want so much more, and I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s almost like I knew at some level that I was terrified, but I couldn’t put it into words until this moment. I think there’s an illness with my dad—more than an obsession, it’s a mental health issue, and I’ve basically convinced myself that because I inherited my creativity from him, I was destined to follow in his footsteps.”
Jill nodded, staving off another shiver as a piercing wind cut through every layer of her down jacket. “I get it. I hear what you’re saying. Also, can I come in? I’m freezing.”
