Page 4 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
“Owen, I’m being serious. Remember the last time we met up with them in Austria? It wasn’t great.” That was an understatement. It had been a complete disaster, with Owen cracking jokes while her parents lectured her about her life choices. They envisioned their only daughter would outgrow her art phase and seek out a respectable profession like being a lawyer. When it became evident that Jill had no intention of following their prescribed path for her, tensions had mounted. They’d threatened to cut her off, especially when they learned that a healthy chunk of the funds they earmarked for law school had gone to buy the camper van.
As for Owen, they found him amusing and witty, but far from husband material. In their minds, Jill was destined for bigger things, better things. Their only daughter wasn’t supposed to be on a permanent road trip with an artist. She should be on track to marry a doctor or lawyer and live in a fancy house in the West Hills.
Ever since that trip, Jill opted to see them on her own, traveling to Portland for a visit or meeting up with them in Mexico or the Cayman Islands. It was better to leave Owen behind and pretend like she wasn’t serious about him. It was easier that way for all of them.
He’d made it clear since they met that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, so why cause any of them undue stress? Maybe “stable” was a better word choice. They’d been serious about each other for over seven years, but Jill was naturally more serious and reserved. Owen had brought out her playful side and her sense of adventure. They’d balanced well, like perfect colors in a palette, but things were changing now, in ways she wasn’t quite ready to face. If she told him the truth… She trailed off, not wanting to deal with that right now.
“Okay. I guess it’s just a week, and there will be so many holiday events going on anyway.” She dragged her teeth along her bottom lip, hovering her finger over the Buy button like it might detonate at any moment. “As long as you’re really sure.” She grabbed a handful of candy from the custom dispensers Owen had built and mounted to the camper van—one of his many “important upgrades” like the cappuccino maker and Guinness tap. The dispensers were the type that used to be at restaurants and toy shops. For the holidays, Owen had filled them with peppermints, chocolate balls, foil-wrapped Santas, and jelly beans.
“I’m sure. Yeah.” Owen set the frame down and reached for her hand, massaging it gently and tenderly. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles in slow, soft circles. It was the kind of touch that made her believe he meant it, even if he was part of the reason she’d been stress-eating chocolate since ten in the morning. Moments like this gave her a tiny flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—there was a future for them.
“Be sure to pack the Christmas letters I sent you. Meg thinks there’s a story there,” Owen said, still fondling her hand. “She might be right. You should bring them and see if she can work her literary magic. AnotherNew York TimesChristmas piece or maybe a novel. That would be something, yeah?”
“Yeah. Okay.” Jill wasn’t concerned about Christmas letters at a time like this. She needed him to be serious. “But my parents? Are you sure?”
“Best behavior.” He grinned like a puppy who had been told he was about to go to the park. “I promise. I’ll swear a blood oath if necessary.”
Jill laughed and shook her head. “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s them.” What she didn’t say out loud was that there was much more her parents wanted to discuss.
Big things. Life-altering things.
Things she had yet to mention to Owen.
Like moving to the San Francisco.
Like the loft they’d purchased for her.
Like saying yes to the offer they’d helped facilitate for her to teach at the prestigious San Francisco School of Art.
But how could she tell him?
They had carved out a different life—one that she used to think she would want forever.
She already knew Owen’s answer. He wasn’t looking for a conventional relationship. He lived for the open road and border crossings, new countries, adventures, and inspiration for his art. He was the kind of guy who thought a permanent mailing address was merely a suggestion, not a requirement. His idea of adulting was making green smoothies for breakfast before hitting the beach.
He was perfectly content chasing sunsets in the camper van, and until the last few weeks, Jill had been right there with him, too.
Lately, though, something had shifted. A tug she couldn’t ignore toward putting down roots and stability, a place of permanence.
Jill’s hand drifted to her stomach.
It wasn’t just turning thirty or feeling slightly homesick.
She was carrying something bigger than herself now. Bigger than both of them.
Whether she was ready or not, this trip back home to Oregon felt like a turning point, a crossroads. This holiday would either make or break their relationship.
THREE
JOHANNA
“Stay, come on, just a little longer.” Connor traced her collarbone with his hand luxuriously, pausing to massage the tension in the base of her neck. Then, slipping into song—of course he did—he leaned in, his voice smooth and melodic, the same one America swooned over on TV.
“It’s cold out there, but it’s warm in bed…” he crooned softly into her ear.
No wonder women drooled over this man.
Johanna pulled away, sitting up and breaking the spell. She wrapped the satin sheet around her like armor and refused to meet his eyes. Then she carefully retrieved the dress she’d abandoned on the hardwood floor last night. Connor’s apartment was the quintessential bachelor pad—very little practical furniture but ample gaming equipment. His idea of décor was sports posters he’d swiped from the freebie pile at the office and two beanbag chairs. The guy had the charisma of a leading man and the design instincts of a teenager. For the holidays, he’d set up a plastic tree and decked it out with football, basketball, and baseball ornaments, pennants, mini jerseys of his favorite players, and strings of glowingsoccer lights. Everything about his space screamed “single.” Permanently single.
