A soft snore greets me, confirming that he’s dead to the world. There’ll be no telling him the news right now. I guess I’ll have to wait until later.
With a sigh, I sit up and reach for my sketchpad. Tired as I am, I’m not actually sleepy. And he is beautiful. I haven’t sketched him in a while, and since I’ve been focusing on more abstract paintings lately, I need to do other things to keep my figure drawing skills sharp. Settling in, I start laying down the broad lines of his body, getting in the outline before starting to fill in the details and shadows.
Even after all this time together, I still love this man more than any other. I hope he’s happy when I tell him my news. I’m pretty sure he will be. And hopefully it’ll give him something to focus on other than his injured shoulder and his worries that his career is on its way down the toilet.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lance
Matt and Hannah’s house features a lush pine wreath on the door, festooned with red ribbon edged in gold glitter. White lights wrap around the porch columns and large ornaments hang from the tree in the front yard, combining with the thin layer of snow on the ground to make a picture of a postcard Christmas. All we need is softly falling snow, and we could be in a snow globe.
Hannah answers the door wearing a cream sweater and red felt antlers on her head that jingle when she moves. “Hey, guys!” she greets us enthusiastically. “Come on in. Daniel and Elena and Evan and Layla are here. Only Chris and Megan are missing.”
“They’re running late,” Abby chimes in beside me, stepping inside the house and handing Hannah the hash brown casserole we brought as our contribution to the potluck. “Chris was tired and apparently fell asleep once they got back to the hotel. She just woke him up, and they’ll be on their way soon.”
“So they’ll be here in like an hour, then,” Matt says, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Figures.”
Hannah’s decorated on the inside too, adding Christmasy throw pillows to the minimalist tan couch that replaced the old, lumpy threadbare one I shared with Chris and Matt when we lived here. A decorative bowl of glass balls in Christmas colors sits in the middle of the coffee table she repainted in a rustic farmhouse style last year. A little cluster of bottlebrush trees sits on the corner of the entertainment center, complete with white batting as fake snow. A large Christmas tree stands in front of the window facing the street, and a few wall hangings that say things like Joy and Merry Christmas are interspersed with their usual artwork—including a few of Megan’s prints.
Carter—Daniel—and Coopman—Evan—stand and come over, giving side hugs to Abby and shaking my hand, their faces wreathed in smiles as we exchange greetings.
Even though Carter still lives in town, we don’t see each other much. I know he and Matt hang out some, and occasionally we all get together, but it’s been several months. Between Matt’s work that keeps him traveling a lot of the time, Carter’s schedule as the football coach in the fall, and my own work schedule, coordinating a time when we’re all available is tricky.
This little Christmas party should be fun, especially with the addition of our out-of-town friends like Coopman and his girlfriend and Chris and Megan here for Coach’s retirement party tomorrow.
I set the gift bags we brought for our white elephant gift exchange under the tree, nestling them next to the other wrapped presents already there. I make a show of picking up a box and shaking it by my ear.
“Hey, now,” Elena protests, wagging a finger at me. “No cheating. You can shake the present before you open it if you really like guessing to see if you’re right, but you can’t shake the presents to help you decide which one to pick. That goes against the spirit of the game.”
Grinning, I set the package back down. “Leave it to the lawyer-to-be to arbitrate the rules of a wacky gift exchange.”
She sticks her tongue out at me and settles back into her spot on the couch with Carter. He laughs as he tucks her against his side. “It is on brand, though, you have to admit,” he says to her in a low voice.
“I admit nothing,” she says, crossing her arms with her chin lifted in a show of defiance.
Turning, I hold out my hand to Coopman’s girlfriend, Layla, offering her a warm smile. “Hey. Good to see you.”
She takes my hand and shakes it gently, giving me a quick smile and a soft, “Hello,” before dropping my fingers like she doesn’t want to touch me for too long.
I’m not offended, though. She’s always been a shy and cagey one. A lot like Abby in that way, and since Coopman was never really in my circle of friends, I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know her much. They’re here because Elena is friends with Hannah, Matt’s girlfriend, and Coopman and Carter are friends, so our circle grew with time.
Coopman and I exchange nods and brief pleasantries about what we’re up to—work for me, school still for him, and I can’t help being impressed by his pursuit of a PhD. I don’t think I’d have the discipline to stay in school for that long. While I did fine, I was glad to leave the grind of classes and papers and studying behind. I’ve worked my way up the ranks a bit at the Forrester Group, and I have a
