Page 56 of Savoring Christmas
She flung the door of the car open and charged through the snow to her back door. She didn’t turn back, merely unlocked the door, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind her. He forced himself to drive away, the golden glow of her windows not the only thing that was fading away in his rearview mirror.
Logan didn’t turnon any lights when he got home. He tossed his coat over the back of a chair and stood in the doorway of the kitchen—the place that had started to feel like theirs. Even in the darkness, he could picture her so clearly: sleeves rolled up as she worked at the counter, something simmering on the stove, Cannoli stretched out in front of the fire. He’d imagined himself leaning against the island, stealing tastes and lazy kisses, thinking this was exactly how life was supposed to feel. Now the silence pressed against him, and the empty kitchen felt like a monument to everything he’d never have.
He pulled a beer from the fridge, cracked it open, and leaned against the counter, disgusted with himself. He’d promised Max he wouldn’t push. That he wouldn’t let his temper and stubborn streak screw this up. And then he’d gone and done exactly that, both feet in.
He thought about texting her. Just one word—sorry.But she’d made it clear she wanted space.
Instead, he took a long pull from his beer, the bitterness coating his tongue like regret. He stared at the empty counter, the clean stovetop, the blank expanse where all his daydreams of her had lived. Maybe it would be easier to pretend the last few weeks had been nothing more than a beautiful mistake. Easier than showing up Tuesday and watching her teach with that quiet passion of hers, knowing she’d already chosen to walk away from all of it—from the students who adored her, from the community that needed her. From him.
He set the bottle down with a sharp clink that echoed through the silence. Two lessons left, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t sit there pretending to focus on cooking techniques while his heart broke a little more each time she smiled at someone else, each time she offered encouragement he’d never receive again.
Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that none of it had meant what he thought it did.
A soft thud from the living room broke the silence, followed by the sound of careful paws on hardwood. Matilda appeared in the doorway, her usual haughty expression replaced by something almost … concerned? She studied him for a long moment, then did something she’d never done before—she padded over and rubbed against his leg.
Logan stared down at her, stunned. “Evenyoufeel sorry for me now?”
Instead of her typical disdainful flick of the tail, Matilda wound around his ankles again, then sat directly on his feet and began to purr. The sound was rusty, as if she was out of practice with genuine affection.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Logan said, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. “When the cat who hates everyone starts being nice to me, I must really be pathetic.”
Matilda’s purr grew louder, and she pressed her head into his palm. For once, she wasn’t plotting world domination or ways to torment Cannoli or get more treats out of him. She was just being a cat who sensed her human needed comfort.
“Thanks, Matilda. At least someone still likes me.”
12
MIA
At Tuesday night’s class, Logan’s station sat empty. She told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d been the one to ask for space. But still, she hadn’t imagined he would miss the second to last class.
She’d almost texted him at least a dozen times in the last two days but somehow she couldn’t think of what to say. Since the job offer, she’d thought of little else than the decision she faced. On one hand, it seemed ludicrous to turn down such an incredible offer. On the other, leaving Logan seemed unfathomable. She was in an “unlock your own adventure” situation, with no idea which door to open.
She pasted on a smile as she turned to her students. “Are you all ready to tackle lasagna?”
“Should we wait for Logan?” Abby asked. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.”
“I have a feeling he’s not coming,” Mia said.
“Why not?” Reese asked. “Is he sick?”
Mia sighed, fighting tears. “We had a fight.”
“Dear me, about what?” Thelma asked.
“I’ve had a job offer. In New York. It’s my dream job.” She told them about the concept and what they’d offered her. “When I told Logan about it, he just … assumed I’d take it. Things got complicated between us after that. I asked him for some space to figure out what I really want, but I never expected him to disappear completely.”
“I’m sure he’s scared to lose you,” Kris said. “The way you two look at each other tells me your feelings are not the stuff of flings. But men sometimes react aggressively when they feel out of control.”
“This job sounds pretty great,” Harold said. “Hard to pass up.”
“Do you want to go?” Reese asked.
“I don’t know,” Mia said. “This opportunity—it’s everything I thought I’d lost. But I’ve built a life here. And the thought of leaving feels like a dark and empty hole. It feels awful.” Her voice grew fainter. “A year ago I would have accepted without hesitation. But these last few weeks have been wonderful. This class. Logan. His family welcoming me as if I belonged to them.” She glanced over at Abby who nodded sympathetically. “This place no longer feels like a stop on my way to something better.”
Harold leaned his elbows on the counter. “You can chase success your whole life and catch it too. But love? Real love doesn’t wait around while you figure out your priorities. I’ve watched plenty of folks climb every ladder they could find, only to realize they left behind the one person who made the climb worth it.
“Yes, and isn’t finding true love the best dream of all?” Reese asked in a wistful tone.
