“God, it was tragic. So, he leaned over the railing and called out, saying he just wanted to talk and why was I running, but by then I was breathing hard and quite wild-eyed with it all. You know I’m not much of runner, and I’d just plummeted down God knows how many stairs.”
I flopped on the opposite chaise, truly stunned. Who’d run away from a guy like Cruz? It was mind-bending. But Amory was my best friend, so I was on her side, always. I did have to suppress a giggle at the picture she painted. “Have you spoken since then?”
She scrunched her eyes closed. “Only by text. I can’t face a phone call. Firstly, I’m terrified of the whole potential proposal thing, and secondly, what if he thinks I’m a basket case for running?”
“You are a basket case for running! Maybe he was just going to… serenade you or something. And you, with your steely heart, threw yourself down the side of a building to get away?”
She covered her face and mumbled, “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking rationally at the time. The next day I finished up at work, and told them I was taking a sabbatical and then made my way here, all before I could change my mind. And then I thought about telling you and wanted to dissolve into the floor. So now you know.” Her face paled at the recollections and I moved to hug her, silly girl that she was. All that fuss, just so she could avoid hearing someone declare their love.
“Shouldn’t you at least talk to him? Put the poor guy out of his misery?”
She shook her head. “I texted him that I was here and taking a break.”
“And what was his reply?”
“To take all the time I needed. He’d wait for me.”
“Wow, what a monster,” I said.
She lobbed an inflatable Santa at me, which bounced off and hit Micah as he walked back through the door holding a tray of steaming-hot eggnog and plates of Christmas cookies. “Whoa!” he said, just managing to right the mugs as they wobbled, eggnog splashing over the sides.
“Sorry,” Amory said. “That was Santa’s fault.”
We sat and each took a drink, cradling the mugs for warmth, and then my phone pinged. I sighed, expecting it to be an anxious text from one of the brides attending the expo. Instead it was from Timothy: Great to catch up the other night, would love to have dinner with you sometime this week? Timothy x
My stomach flipped. I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt about Timothy. There hadn’t been time to really ruminate about it all. So I texted back quickly, shielding my phone from Amory’s prying eyes: Hey, Tim! The impromptu drinks were fab.
I paused, weighing up what else to say. It wasn’t as though we’d planned to meet, so technically it wasn’t a date, more two old friends being at the same place at the same time.
Can I take a raincheck for dinner for some time after New Year? Hope the kids are well!
It wasn’t that I didn’t feel a frisson of something there; it was more he was a father and I had to tread carefully, realizing he was a package deal. And those kids weren’t exactly amenable to some stranger wandering into their lives. I still hadn’t recovered from Scarlett’s slit-throat gesture… And my mind… well, it was on Kai. I mean, Amory, and her troubles. Not Kai. Kai was long gone.
Better to stick to other people’s love lives for now. After a deep drink of eggnog, I said, “So what happens now?”
Amory took up a gingerbread man, biting his head off in one fell swoop. Between crunches she said, “Look, darling, there’s no question I adore the man, but I want to move along on my terms. This may sound ironic coming from a girl who plans weddings for a living, but I just don’t want to be told there’s stages and like clockwork I have to tick them off, just because everyone else does.”
Without the bedlam of the big city there was time to talk seriously about these big, life-changing things on a deeper level than we would have in Manhattan. Time moved at a slower pace at Cedarwood. We let ourselves relax, and confessions were mulled over, rather than responded to quickly and less thoughtfully between cocktails and pumping music as it had been in the past.
Micah sipped his eggnog, and hummed to the carols, contentment shining in his eyes – or more likely the bourbon was taking effect!
I debated whether to push Amory for a deeper truth. I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t supportive, but I also thought she might need a shove to be honest, even with herself. “Is it really that, though, Amory, or is it that you don’t want to admit how you feel?”
“Don’t Doctor Phil me, please, oh psychobabbler. I realize I’ve acted a little rashly, but imagine if he did propose? It would have been all sorts of awkward.”
“Why? Would you have said no?”
“I wouldn’t have said yes.”
Micah piped up. “Hang on, hang on, so explain what happened.” Amory nodded so I gave Micah a rundown of events. He murmured to himself before saying, “There’s got to be a way you can meet in the middle. And what if he wasn’t about to propose? He might have been about to tell you he’s sorry but he’s decided to become vegetarian.”
Amory laughed. “But the ceviche, Micah. Ceviche is fish.”
Micah steepled his fingers. “Maybe a pescatarian then?” he laughed. “But you see my point, right? It could have been a marriage proposal, but it also could have been, ‘Hey, girl, you want to fly first class and meet my parents? Then I’ll wine and dine you in Paris, how ‘bout it?’”
I let out a peal of laughter at Micah’s attempted accent. It sounded more hillbilly than South American.
“Maybe,” she said, giggling. “But on one knee? Don’t men reserve that position for the proposal? Like, isn’t it hallowed?”
Micah nodded. “Well, yeah, you’d hate to get a girl’s hopes up if it wasn’t the case. I think you should at least talk to Cruz, let him explain. He’s probably out of his mind worrying about you.” Thank you, Micah! She was more likely to listen to a third party than me, knowing I had a soft spot for Cruz.
“Yeah, I guess. I will, eventually. Let’s get back to decorating. All this love talk gets too soppy after a while. Plus, we’ve got wreaths to hang on the doors, and stockings for the fireplaces in the suites upstairs. Fairy lights, and these things…” She lifted a row of jingly Christmas bells. “Micah, what about the trees? Did you tell Isla which ones we wanted?” Amory subject-changed like a pro.
At the mention of Isla’s name Micah’s face changed – it softened and his eyes glazed. Amory noticed it too and we exchanged a proud parent kind of smile.
“Yep, Isla’s on to it. I’ll help her bring them in tomorrow. Speaking of which, what would you buy a girl like Isla for Christmas? She’s not into fashion, or jewelry… but I want to get her something special, that shows her how much I love her. Amazing and unique, like Isla.”
Isla, with her long strawberry-blonde hair, athletic physique and penchant for fast motorbikes, certainly wasn’t your run-of-the-mill girl. She was fast becoming the sister I’d never had and deserved to be spoiled this Christmas.
“What about a book of poetry?” I said. Love poems, was there anything sweeter? “No,” I said, changing my mind. “It’s not quite right, is it?”
Amory wrinkled her nose in contemplation and then lifted her index finger. “Oh, I know the perfect gift! A star!”
Micah cocked his head. “A star?”
“You can buy a real-life star, and even name it if you want to. That way, when you’re canoodling under the moonlight, you can point it out. Tell me that’s not the most romantic thing ever?”
His face crinkled into a smile, and he