“Why’s that?”
“Because you usually get something healthy, like avocado toast or an egg-white-omelet type thing.”
She waves her hand through the air and picks up her drink again, taking a big gulp. “I decided it was a cheat day. Make that, a whole cheat weekend. I think I ate my body weight in stuffed mushrooms and desserts at the wedding last night. I could barely button my jeans this morning.” She arches an eyebrow. “So, I notice you didn’t argue about my using the words great loves in our toast.”
“Aren’t we a little old for word games?”
“If it means that you’re getting used to the idea of being head over heels in love. So, come on. Spill. Tell me what happened last night.”
“We danced.”
“I mean, after the reception. Want to know what Nicholas and I did?”
“You went home and had sex?”
“For a romance writer, that was a pretty boring way to put it. For your information, we did go home and have sex. But sex with him is more than just a good time in bed. He’s amazing. We’re incredible together. Every. Single. Time.”
“Fine. I’m in love with Matt. There. I said it.”
“Sorry, sorry, but what? Did you just say that? You’re admitting you have feelings for him?”
“Yes, okay? I’m in love with Matt. With my annoyingly hot neighbor who makes fun of me all the time.”
She props up her chin on her palm, batting her eyelashes. “Also the Matt who takes care of you when you’re sick.”
“And who has an adorable dog. He’s the full package. I just don’t know,” I admit.
And I know what’s going on. Even though last night was amazing, I’m freaking out a bit. I love him. And now, I’m about to spin the wheel. And he’s okay with it.
“Don’t know what?”
“If I’m enough for him,” I practically whisper. “You should have seen the girls he brought home. They were all beautiful. And a lot of them were really nice. I’m … just a mess. Always.”
She sighs. “I knew we’d get to the heart of it eventually. It’s scary. I know that. I mean, here I am, wondering if Nicholas and I have what it takes to justify a move across the country. I’d be leaving behind everything I’ve ever known.”
Is it a coincidence that she drains what’s left of her drink moments after she finishes speaking? I’m guessing not. And I’m instantly worried about her. Now that I take a good look at her, I notice she doesn’t look as pulled together as usual. And it’s not her typical work stress. She’s happy but stressed about her life.
“What are you going to do?” I ask her.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she says. “And it’s so stressful. But I think I need to move with him regardless of if they give me my transfer. Because it’s what my heart wants. Even if my head has a million reasons why it’s a stupid idea. And my parents will freak, knowing that I’m giving up my job at a highly regarded firm for the unknown. They will say I’m ruining my life for a man. They will ask me, What happens if it doesn’t work out?”
“And what if it doesn’t?” I ask and then realize that was the wrong thing to say. “I don’t mean that I think it won’t. I think you and Nicholas are meant to be together. I just meant, like, what’s the worse-case scenario? It doesn’t work, and you come back home. You could live with me or your sister if you needed to. I’ll always help you. You know that, right? And even though the thought of not having the option of brunch with you every weekend makes me really sad, I understand.”
“Oh, don’t say that. You’re going to make me cry,” she says, sounding choked up. But then she shakes her head at me and says, “Before I go though, we have to figure out your life.”
“One interesting thing did happen last night. Matt told me that he read Candy-Coated Love.”
“Ohhh, that’s the one that’s basically about him and Phoebe, right?” she says as our food arrives and we start eating.
“Yeah, but it got me thinking.”
“Uh-oh,” she says with a laugh.
“I miss it. I miss writing those kinds of stories. The meet-cutes. The first time they hold hands. Kiss. All those sweet little moments that show their love outside of the bedroom. Or wherever.”
“Then, do it. Maggie has to know that you can’t keep dating guys for research for the rest of your life. Especially if you and Matt are together.”
“Whatever happened to letting nothing stand in the way of my career?”
“I don’t know. I guess my opinion has changed.”
“Because you have Nicholas now.”
She arches an eyebrow. “That could be. You’re probably right about that. Oh my God. I’m doing that, aren’t I? All the things I said you should never do. I’m giving up my career for a man. What is wrong with me?”
“You’re maybe, possibly giving up your job, not your career,” I say, but I can tell she’s freaking out. “You’ll still be an attorney either way.”
“I need to be bold. And so do you. Talk to Maggie about what you want to write. Because why can’t you just write from your imagination?”
“I don’t know. But I get the idea she’s stressed about her job, and she’s afraid to change things up. Maybe she’s superstitious.” I pick at the rest of my hash browns, which are delicious.
“Well … you still need to spin to decide the next book, but you need to be a big girl and tell her that this is the last one. That you will either continue to do tropes but not spin or date or you will go back to writing what you want.”
“That’s easier said than done, you realize,” I counter. “I’ve saved some money from my advances, and I’ll have royalties coming in for most of my life, but without new releases, those will wither down to nothing.”
Out comes the spinner regardless.
“We both need to figure out how to balance our careers with what we want out of life.”
“Do you have any answers?” I say, taking a big gulp of my drink.
“I wish I did. But I’m leaning toward love.”
“Okay, let’s get it over with. Do you think we can manage one more?” Hayley asks
“We?” I wonder.
“Okay, me. But I need the moral support,” I say.
“Kitty, you don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.”
“Just spin it. For me.”
“I have a good feeling about this one.” She taps her fingers on the table and hops up and down a little.
“What did you do to it this time?” And I can’t help but wonder if she rigged it like she had for the best man.
“Nothing.” She presses her lips together in a thin line and looks down at the table.
“Lies.” Is it my imagination, or is she softly humming “Jingle Bells”? My eyes narrow. “Wait. You didn’t.”
She sets the spinner moving with an ear-to-ear smile. I can only close my eyes and pray for strength at this point.
“Oh my goodness, Kitty! You got Hot Santa!”