“Like what?” Heather sniffed.
Although she already knew, really.
Boyfriends.
Relationships.
Love.
Heather had been telling herself that she hadn’t fallen in love because the time hadn’t been right, that she hadn’t had serious relationships because she’d been focusing on her career.
But the truth was, Heather had been focusing on the Manhattan zip code and the promotion because they were easier. Not easier to achieve necessarily, but less painful if she failed.
But if she tried for love and failed—if she tried for her own wedding, and it didn’t happen—it wouldn’t just be her pride that was broken.
It would be Heather.
She started to cry harder, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She only knew that some tiny, unidentified part of her was being brought forward, and it was as painful as it was necessary.
“Oh, sweetie,” her mom soothed. “Should I not have brought this up now?”
Heather let out a mangled laugh. “Well, it is Christmas, Mom. Couldn’t have hit me with this tomorrow?”
“Perhaps I should have,” Joan said, playing with Heather’s curls. “Are you mad?”
Heather shook her head and rested her head on her mom’s shoulder. “No. Not mad. Confused as heck though.”
“Yes, love can be that way sometimes,” her mom said with a sigh.
Heather frowned. “Who said anything about love?”
Her mom pressed her lips to Heather’s forehead and smiled. “Your phone’s ringing.”
Heather lifted her head and listened. Sure enough, her phone was ringing on the small table by the front door. “Who’d be calling me on Christmas?”
She picked it up, her hand faltering a little as she saw the caller ID. She picked up. “Josh?”
“Hey, 4C. Calling to wish you a merry Christmas. Are you as fat and full as I am?”
“More so,” Heather said with a smile.
“Really? Come back to New York so we can compare belly bulges. We can make it sexy.”
Heather laughed. “That’s one thing even you can’t make sexy.”
“You’re just saying that because your mom’s around. Tell her I say hi, Mrs. 4C.”
“What makes you think I’ve told her about you?”
“Oh, 4C. You’re so cute when you try to play coy. Put on your coat and go outside so I can talk dirty to you about the pie my mom made. And then you can talk dirty back by telling me about the banana bread you’re going to make me when you get home on Wednesday.”
“Not happening,” Heather said as she shrugged on her coat. “Not now, not ever.”
She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Mom, I’ll be right back. Just going to talk in privacy for a while.”
“You take your time,” Joan said as she took another sip of wine. “I’ll just be here gloating.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Gloating about what?”
Her mom gave a secret smile. “I’m confident you’ll let me know when you figure it out.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
DOES THIS SEEM WEIRD to you?”
“The fact that I’m willingly wearing a suit right now? Yes. Yes it does,” Josh said, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
“Please,” Heather said with a wave of her hand. “You look like you came out of the womb in that thing.”
It was true. Josh Tanner in his usual T-shirts and low-slung jeans was mouthwatering. But Josh Tanner in a charcoal suit, sans the tie, the white dress shirt open at the collar lending the ensemble just the slightest casual touch, was downright breathtaking.
Josh caught her hands, which had been fiddling with her clutch, cradling both her hands and the small gold clutch between his own. “Talk to me, 4C. What’s weird? Why are you all fussy?”
She bit her lip, tasting the sparkly lip gloss she’d applied on the cab ride over to Seth and Brooke’s place.
“This,” she said, jerking her head toward Hamilton House, the quiet building in front of them, the entire top floor of which Seth had purchased and turned into a gorgeous home for him and Brooke.
“Going to your friend’s party on New Year’s Eve?”