Page 71 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
Merry Christmas, as you say in America!
She flipped over Owen’s newest letter.
Every day, I wake up next to you and wonder what I possibly did to deserve this life.
“Jill! Oh, my God, Jill. Look at these!” Meg forced the first letter into Jill’s hand. “Look at the first letter in the first word.”
Jill took the first letter. “Yeah, what?”
Meg laid the letters on the table in sequential order. “Jill, spell it out. Come on! Spell it out.”
“M—A—R—R—Y—M—E.” Jill’s eyes doubled in size as she scanned the letters and read it again. “Marry me? They spell ‘marry me’?”
Meg’s knee bounced with excitement. “This is the most romantic gesture I’ve ever seen.” She collapsed against the back of the couch and let her mouth hang open. Then she sat up and fanned her face with a letter. “You realize Owen’s been asking you to marry him for seven years? Seven freaking years, Jill.”
Jill shook her head. “No, it doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t want a traditional life. And how would he have planned this for so long?”
“He must have known from day one that he was in love with you and intended to marry you.”
Jill read the letters again, circling the first letter with her finger as if they might magically vanish from the page. “But he’s been so upfront about not wanting a traditional life.”
“You keep saying a traditional life, but what does that mean?” Meg pressed. “That could be interpreted a million different ways. Maybe he just means he doesn’t want to work a traditional nine-to-five office job, or wants to travel and carve out your own way of being in the world. It doesn’t mean he’s not madly in love with you or anti-marriage.”
“You think he’s actually been planning a proposal for seven years?” Jill shook her head in disbelief.
“I think the proof is right here on the page.” Meg clapped softly, unable to contain her delight. “I could write an entire love story about these letters. We need to get to the party because I have a feeling there might be more than one proposal tonight.One of them is going to be very hard to stomach, but I’m not about to sit on the sidelines and miss out on Owen taking a knee.”
FORTY-SIX
JOHANNA
“You quit?” Johanna searched Connor’s face. He looked earnest and sincere as he bobbed his head.
He quit?
For her?
She felt suddenly feverish.
Was it hot in here?
Just her?
“Yeah, of course I quit. I don’t have any interest in running an AI department of a bunch of sports bots. Are you kidding me? And I wasn’t about to stick around and let them get rid of the best editor ESPN has ever seen.” His voice turned husky as he held her gaze with unnervingly deep and prolonged eye contact. It was the kind of smoky, smoldering look he would give the camera when he signed off the broadcast.
Damn, no wonder lovesick teenagers and little old grannies sent him boxes of cookies. She was almost tempted to scurry off to the kitchen and whip up a batch of gooey chocolate treats, even though she didn’t bake.
“What about the email?” She broke away from his unrelenting gaze, worried that if she didn’t, she might not trust herself with what she would do next.
“They preemptively sent that out.” He stood, cocking his head to the side like he knew he was starting to win her over. “They assumed I would say yes. I think they’re still in shock that I turned them down. You should have seen their faces when I walked out. Jo. It was awesome. Total mic-drop moment. I should have filmed it.”
“You turned the job forme?” Johanna was almost at a loss for words.
“Why would I want to work for a company that doesn’t value their best people?” He sat next to her, so close that their bodies touched, sending an ache of longing down her neck. “I turned it down. Jo.” He trailed his finger over her hand while keeping his eyes locked on her. “I know you get freaked out by the lovey-dovey stuff.”
She burst out laughing. “Lovey-dovey? No one says that, Connor, except for maybe the grannies who send you banana bread and fudge.”
“What? You want me to call it like it is? Fine.” He grinned. “You’re commitment-phobic and ridiculously independent to a fault. You might even say allergic to anything that resembles emotional vulnerability.”
