Page 63 of Savoring Christmas
“I would love that.” Mia looked around at the faces that had come to mean so much to her—this mismatched, wonderful crew who had shown up for her in every way that mattered. She didn’t need to move to Manhattan to chase a dream. She was standing in the middle of it. “Thank you for believing in me. And for listening and offering such good advice. This is happening because each one of you cared enough to help me when I really needed it. I can’t thank you enough.”
“This class has changed my life,” Reese said, tearing up. “I have felt supported and cared for by all of you.”
They stood in a quiet circle for a long moment, the dust-filled light catching in their smiles.
And in that stillness, Mia imagined the laughter, the dancing, the celebrations that would occur in this room. This was right. She could feel it deep in her bones. This was the place she was meant to open. If only she could feel assured that the man she loved would be by her side, that she hadn’t already truly ruined what they’d had. Maybe she had. Maybe it was too late.
“I wish Logan was here,” Mia said, fighting tears. “But I haven’t heard from him. I think I’ve driven him away. I just hope he’ll be willing to talk soon.”
“Don’t you worry,” Kris said. “I have a feeling he’s going to surprise you.”
15
LOGAN
Thursday morning had started in chaos—with an emergency motion that couldn’t wait. His secretary had called his landline before he’d even had his coffee. One of his long-time clients was in full-blown panic after her ex threatened to leave the state with their daughter. Logan sprinted into the courthouse with a stack of paperwork and a sick feeling in his gut. The filing took longer than expected, and, by the time the judge called for a same-day hearing, he didn’t have time to breathe, let alone get to the phone store. Of all the times to lose his phone.
Replacing it became its own nightmare—waiting at the cell store, verifying his identity, syncing everything back up. By the time the new phone finally activated late that afternoon, the screen lit up with a flood of missed calls and texts.
None of which he cared about, except for one. A call from Mia. He’d tried to call her back right away, but she didn’t answer.
Now it was Thursday evening, and he was about to walk into her cooking class, not sure if she was angry, hurt, or both. Regardless, he had a ring in his pocket and he intended to askher tonight. If she said no, he would have to accept it. But not without giving it everything he had.
The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by the warm scents of vanilla, citrus, and butter. Mia looked up when he entered, their eyes meeting for just a split second before she quickly turned away, color rising in her cheeks. His stomach dropped. She’d called him yesterday—he’d heard the hope in her voice on that message about good news—and now she couldn’t even look at him. His worst fears had come true. She thought he hadn’t called her back on purpose.
With a heavy heart, he moved to his usual station, already prepped with a mixing bowl and wooden spoon. Cannoli, who’d been curled on a blanket beside Mia’s station, let out a low woof and trotted toward him. Logan knelt down, scratching behind her ears. “Hey, girl. Miss me?”
She responded with a happy snort and nudged her head into his chest. He scooped her up, holding her close for a moment. “I missed you too,” Logan said.
“Logan,” Kris said, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. “Good to see you.”
Thelma arched a brow. “You okay?”
“Yes. Busy day, but I wouldn’t miss class,” Logan said.
“Tonight we’re making ricotta cookies,” Mia said, her voice steady and professional. “Soft, cake-like, and kissed with lemon and vanilla. They’re my favorite Italian holiday cookie, and I hope they’ll become yours too. Let’s start by creaming together the butter and sugar until it’s light and fluffy. You’ll add the ricotta, eggs, vanilla, lemon zest, and juice one at a time.”
She handed out the printed recipe cards, her gaze skipping over him entirely. He caught her glancing in his direction a few times as she explained the technique, but each time she’d quickly focus on someone else. The careful way she avoided himfelt deliberate, pointed. Had his silence after her voicemail been the last straw?
The class got to work, the familiar clink of measuring spoons and chatter filling the room. Logan stole glances at Mia as he stirred, trying to read her expression, but she remained resolutely focused on helping everyone but him. Logan watched as she moved around the room, spending extra time with Thelma and Harold, offering encouragement and gentle corrections. When she got close to his station, he held his breath, waiting for her to approach, but she’d veer away at the last second to help someone else instead. The message was clear—whatever chance he’d had, he’d blown it.
When the cookies were in the oven and the room began to smell similar to his mother’s kitchen, Mia once again drew their attention. “While they bake, we’ll make the glaze. Powdered sugar, lemon juice, and a splash of milk. You want it thick enough to coat but thin enough to drizzle.”
Still no eye contact. The ache in Logan’s chest grew heavier. He couldn’t let it end like this. He took a deep breath and stepped away from his station.
“Can I have everyone’s attention for a minute?” he asked, voice slightly louder than necessary.
The room went still.
“I have something to ask Mia,” Logan said. “And I hope you’ll all be willing to hold off on your icing for a few minutes.”
Mia finally looked up, and her expression appeared to be equal parts curiosity, hope, and fear. A lump formed in his throat, but he pushed ahead anyway.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back on Wednesday. I lost my phone. In a parking lot in Burlington.”
“Burlington?” Mia asked.
“Yes, I went there on an errand with my brother, Max. A very special errand. To a jewelry store. Apparently the parking lotate my phone because we couldn’t find it anywhere. Then, this morning I had an emergency with a client, so I didn’t get to the phone store until this afternoon, which took forever.”
