A Very Marycliff Christmas Page 2

  Apparently I’m going to get super fat, be covered in stretch marks from armpits to knees, fart like a bodybuilder mainlining protein powder, shit myself in front of an audience, and lose all my hair after the baby’s born.

  Who signs up for this on purpose?

  Because I definitely wouldn’t.

  But here I am. Pregnant. Freaking out about my parents’ reaction.

  And for what?

  Abby’s right. Hearing her spell it out like that has been surprisingly calming. She didn’t tell me anything I don’t already know, but it helped to hear it from her.

  And when she said I was part of her family, even if we aren’t really related …

  That was a balm I didn’t know I needed. Suddenly instead of envisioning my parents’ horror and anger at me getting pregnant out of wedlock—because apparently it’s still 1955—I started imagining Abby and Lance playing with my baby, buying presents for their birthday, maybe one day having a kid too and our kids playing together when we see each other.

  Plus Chris’s parents will be over the moon when they find out they’re going to be grandparents.

  I have people. I have family.

  I just had a panic moment where I forgot that.

  Coming here and telling Abby is definitely the best decision I could’ve made right now. She’s right that I need to tell Chris soon. And I will.

  But for now I need a movie night with my best friend. Comfort and laughter and the reminder that everything will be alright.

  I settle on the couch with the remote, browsing through the available streaming services and pick Clueless, the 90’s feel-good classic.

  Abby brings in a bowl of popcorn and chuckles at my choice as she takes the seat next to me. “It’s been ages since we last watched this one.”

  “Right? But it was our go-to choice in high school whenever one of us needed cheering up. So I thought it was appropriate.”

  With a look full of sympathy and commiseration, Abby hands me a gray fleece throw blanket from the basket at the end of the couch. I wrap it around me, relishing the tactile comfort, and reach for the popcorn as the movie starts. We won’t have time to finish it before Lance gets home, but that’s not important. What’s important is the simple comfort of a movie, popcorn, and a blanket with Abby. Reminders that even while everything around me seems to be changing, I can always count on certain things. Certain people. Abby. Chris. Lance.

  “Don’t tell Lance,” I murmur as I grab another handful of popcorn. I’m aware of Abby’s eyes on me, but I keep mine glued to the screen.

  “You know I wouldn’t,” she replies quietly. “Not until you tell Chris, at least. I won’t breathe a word to anyone until you give me the go-ahead.”

  Another knot of tension in my chest relaxes. I didn’t really think she’d spill the beans. Not on purpose. But her reassurance helps.

  We quote our favorite lines along with the characters, laughing and giggling, and reminiscing about all the times we’ve watched this movie together before. We’re not quite halfway through when the front door opens, and Lance strides in.

  Like Chris, he has that magnetic energy that livens up any room he’s in. All eyes are drawn to him, no matter where he is or who he’s with.

  Abby’s face lights up, and she pauses the movie as she stands and welcomes him home with a kiss.

  Years later and they’re still as in love as ever. Watching them sends a pang of longing through me. I miss Chris. Sure, I only said goodbye to him this morning, and I’ll see him again in just a few days. But I wish he were here anyway. Pulling out my phone, I send him another text—Miss you—a follow up to the one letting him know I’d arrived safely. He’s still in his PT session, so he hasn’t responded yet. He’ll call as soon as he has a few minutes.

  And now that I’ve told Abby and spilled all my fears, I wish I’d told Chris about the pregnancy already. I’m tempted to just blurt it out as soon as he calls, but I want to see his face. And not on a video chat. In person. So as much as I’m dying to tell him now, I’m going to force myself to wait.

  Ugh. Patience has never been my strong suit. I guess this is good practice, though. Because babies require bucket loads of patience, right? Even more so when they’re kids?

  And just like that, another shard of icy panic stabs into my heart. How the hell am I going to handle being a mother?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Matt

  “You about ready, Han?” I call from the living room.

  Hannah’s in the kitchen, finishing up with the dessert she insisted on bringing over to Lance and Abby’s tonight.

  “Almost!” she calls back, then she appears a moment later, carrying a glass pan wrapped in a towel, her face flushed from the heat of the oven. She gives me a wide smile and steps closer, angling her body so she can kiss me without bumping me with the hot pan. “Don’t be nervous,” she tells me. “The worst he can say is no.”

  I give her a wry smile. “I know you mean that to be reassuring, but somehow it really isn’t.” My surf touring company, Schwartz Surf Tours, has been growing like crazy, and for the last five months, Hannah’s been working part time for Earth Ambassadors, an environmental company we’ve been partnering with the last few years. Having a charitable arm of Schwartz Surf Tours was part of the plan from the beginning. Hannah’s spent a lot of time over the last few years seeking out organizations we can sponsor and partner with, and Earth Ambassadors was so impressed with her that they offered her a remote position running their social media properties. They actually wanted her full time, but since she does all the marketing for me, they compromised at half time. But she’s been struggling to keep up with the workload for two companies, and since her passion has always been working to clean up the environment, she’d rather work for them.

  It all came out a few weeks ago, when I found her in the bedroom crying. She’d been afraid to tell me, thinking that I might take her wanting to quit Schwartz Surf Tours as some kind of betrayal. But I reassured her that I will always support her, and I’ve appreciated all her help and support while I was getting my business off the ground. She worked for Eco Utilities for about a year before coming to work for me full time.

  The solution she offered was for me to hire Lance to take over for her. He has a degree in marketing and has been working for an agency since he graduated. The prospect of working with one of my best friends is exciting. We don’t see each other much these days. I talk more to Abby than I do to Lance, actually, because she helps me with translations to and from Spanish when I’m booking tours in Central and South America.

  But the four of us get together every so often. And tonight we’ll get to see Megan too, who I also haven’t seen in far too long.

  Hannah chuckles and gives me a sympathetic glance while she puts on her puffy winter coat. “Sorry. But it’s true. If he says no, we’re no worse off than we were before. We can find someone to take over for me eventually. It’ll be okay.”

  I pull on my wool coat and wrap an arm around her waist under her jacket before she can zip it closed, pulling her in for another kiss, this one lingering a bit before we break apart. “You’re right. It would just be great if he said yes.” Plus, if Hannah’s already been stressed out to the point of tears, I’m anxious to ease her load. If Lance says yes, we can start working on a transition plan. If he says no …

  It’ll take longer to find a good fit. I know I can work well with Lance. We were teammates for years and workout partners after graduation until our schedules became too disconnected to make it work anymore.

  Maybe if we’re working together, we can start doing that again too.

  Hannah pats my chest and steps back, gathering her purse and the pan before giving me a big smile. “Let’s go.”

  When we arrive at Lance and Abby’s, we’re greeted by the energetic whirlwind that is Megan. She squeals when we walk in the door, yelling, “Matty!” and launching herself at me.

  Laughing, I catch her in a hug. “Still tryin
g to make that nickname stick, huh?”

  She pulls back, her dark eyes sparkling with good humor. “Always.” A little more calmly, she turns to Hannah, takes the dish from her hands and passes it to Abby, then holds out her arms wide before wrapping them around Hannah in a big hug. “Oh my god, you guys. I haven’t seen you in so long!”

  Hannah returns the hug with a smile. “You should get over here more.”

  Megan pulls back with an arched eyebrow and a dismissive noise. “And when’s it your turn to come visit me?”

  “Convince Chris get us good tickets, and we’ll be sure to make the trek,” I put in.

  Her smile turns a little false. “Ha. Yeah. Okay, sure. Because that’s the only reason you’ll come visit? To get good seats at a football game? He can’t even play right now.”

  Her reaction has my brows drawing together. “He said he wasn’t hurt that bad and would be back in fighting shape in no time. Was he just blowing smoke up my ass?”

  Megan sighs, her head tilting from side to side. “I think that’s more wishful thinking on his part. He maybe should’ve had surgery. Depending on how the rehab goes, he might still need surgery. We’re in wait-and-see mode right now. It was a bad hit, and he doesn’t like to admit how serious it really was. The power of positive thinking, and all that. Which I’m all for. But not at the expense of reality.”

  “Oh,” is all I manage to say. Chris had shrugged it off like it was no big deal when we talked after the game where he got injured. Said he’d be out a few weeks, probably. I was kind of surprised that he was going to be coming for Coach Hanson’s retirement party at all. I figured he’d be playing again by now.

  I guess that explains that.

  Megan turns back to Hannah, pulling her into the room. “So, let’s talk Christmas party. I know it’s going to be at your place, but I need more details. And what can we help with?”

  Hannah takes off her coat as she answers Megan’s question about the Christmas party we’re hosting while everyone’s in town, and Lance approaches me, a smile on his face. “Just like old times, huh? Megan coming in and commandeering everything how she likes it.”

  I laugh and drape my coat over the back of a chair, following his gaze to where the three women are deep in planning, phones in hand, thumbs flying over tiny keyboards. “Did you expect anything less?”

  “Not at all.” He turns back to me. “How are you? Do you want a drink? Beer? Water? Abby has wine to go with dinner.”

  “Beer’s good for me.” I follow him into the kitchen, looking around and admiring the finishing touches they’ve put on the place and the Christmas decorations—the tree in the corner, red and green and gold bauble ornaments hanging overhead in the doorway to the kitchen, a snowman candle on the counter. Last time I was here, there were still boxes stacked in corners. “I see you’ve finally moved in all the way.”

  He chuckles, popping the cap off a beer with the bottle opener he pulls from a drawer and passing it to me before opening one for himself. “Yeah. Abby had a bunch of projects all in a row right after we moved in, then her mom had to get reevaluated for her social security benefits, so that required a lot of Abby’s time taking her to and from appointments and helping her fill out the paperwork, plus extra time helping her with the usual day to day stuff because the extra stress of the reevaluation made it impossible for her to function at the level she normally does.” He shrugs. “The first three months after we moved were the worst. And she’s particular about certain things and didn’t want me unpacking her stuff, otherwise she said she’d never be able to find anything. So it took her a while to get up the energy to finish, but things have calmed down, her mom’s doing better, so Abby’s doing better.” His face grows serious. “She’s started seeing a therapist too. It’s been helpful.”

  My eyebrows jump at that revelation. “That’s good.” Lance doesn’t usually share a lot of Abby’s personal stuff. She’s very private. I know her mom has health problems and needs a lot of help, but I don’t really know details, because Lance always shrugs and says it’s Abby’s story to tell. And as much as I like Abby, she and I have never been close enough for me to feel comfortable prying her life story out of her. What I know, I’ve pieced together from the tiny bits of information like this one that have slipped out over the years.

  The girls drift into the kitchen, a loud ball of chatter and laughter, and Lance and I move to the dining table to get out of their way. Abby offers drinks all around, and then pulls a pan of lasagna out of the oven.

  She cuts it into pieces, stuffs a spatula down the side, and sets out a stack of plates on the counter next to it. “Alright. We won’t fit comfortably around the table with five of us, so we’re doing this buffet style. There’s salad and dressing here,” she gestures to the large silver bowl overflowing with greens and the smaller bowls of salad toppings arrayed next to it plus two choices of salad dressing, “and Hannah brought dessert. Dig in!”

  Lance and I hang back, letting the women serve themselves first, which they do without hesitation, Abby gesturing for Megan and Hannah to go first. When she turns to us, Lance waves his hand at her. “Go ahead. We can wait two more minutes for you to serve yourselves.” She gives him a pretty smile before picking up her plate.

  Should I ask Lance about working for me now? I fidget with my beer bottle, turning it around and around on the table. Or should I wait until after dinner?

  With an eyebrow raised, Lance glances from my beer bottle to my face. “You that hungry?”

  I force out a laugh. “Something like that.”

  He waves for me to head for the food. “Dig in.”

  Suppressing my sigh, I stand and do that, annoyed with myself for not taking advantage of the opportunity when I had it. Asking him while the girls are off planning and talking would’ve been the perfect time. I don’t really want to ask in front of an audience.

  Maybe I’ll get the chance after dinner.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hannah

  “Matty looks nervous,” Megan whispers, leaning in close to me. “Is he planning to propose and wants Lance’s help, do you think?”

  With a snort and a roll of my eyes, I shake my head, my mouth full of salad. “No,” I manage after I swallow. “That’s not it.”

  Megan wrinkles her nose. “What? You still haven’t managed to lock that down?”

  Abby chokes on her wine. “Are you serious, Megan? You’re one to talk.”

  Waving a dismissive hand, Megan puts her nose in the air. “You’re assuming that I want to get married,” she says airily. “I’m not sure that’s for me.”

  Abby points at me with her fork. “And who says Hannah wants to get married? They’ve been living together for, what?” She looks at me. “Four years?” I nod. “Maybe they’re perfectly content with their life as it is.”

  With a shrug, Megan scoops a bite of lasagne into her mouth. “Fine. Good point.” She moans as she eats another bite. “I’m probably going to regret eating this later, but it’s so good.”

  I look over Megan’s trim form. She looks the same as always. Is she on a diet for some reason? But she doesn’t respond to my quizzical look, and if she wants to lose weight, who am I to judge? Maybe she and Chris are planning a winter trip to a tropical island and she wants to look awesome in her bikini.

  Or, hell, maybe she’s projecting, and they’re going to elope, or she’s already engaged and not telling anyone since her husband is a pro football player with a certain amount of media attention, so she’s watching her calories so she looks great in her wedding dress.

  With a shrug, I take a bite too. “This is really good, Abby,” I say around a mouthful of pasta, molten cheese, and tomato sauce.

  Smiling, Abby ducks her head. “It’s store bought. But thanks.”

  Matt and Lance enter the room, settling on the floor across the coffee table from where Megan and I sit on the couch. Abby’s in the armchair, balancing her plate on her lap. “Well, ladies,” Lance says. “How i
s it?”

  “Soooo goooood,” moans Megan, sounding positively pornographic.

  Abby and I exchange a glance and a smile at her antics.

  “Too bad Chris is missing out on that little performance,” Matt grumbles.

  Lance quirks his eyebrows. “You don’t think he hears that on the regular?”

  Matt chokes on his food and covers his mouth with his napkin, his eyes closed as his shoulders shake with laughter. “I know he does,” he wheezes. “Because I used to hear it on the regular too. Man, the walls in that house are thiiiin. I always had to go to bed when they did unless I wanted an audio show.”

  I bite my cheek, trying to stifle my giggles.

  “Mmmhmm,” Megan says, all attitude. “And you and Hannah were soooo quiet and discreet.”

  My cheeks blaze, but I just meet Matt’s eyes, which are liquid with lust.

  “I see everyone’s relationships are still going strong,” Megan says primly, breaking the spell of the moment.

  Lance laughs. “Quite.” He sips his beer, his eyes still on Megan. “How’s Chris’s shoulder?”

  I’m not sure if he was trying to bring down the mood with that question, but it certainly has that effect. Megan shrugs. “Oh, you know. It’s getting there. He’s working with his PT pretty much every day. He’s worried about taking too much time off coming here, but he also really wants to come, so …”

  “Makes sense,” Lance murmurs, and Matt nods.

  Matt meets my eyes again, that same look of liquid heat in his eyes. And suddenly, despite how much I was looking forward to getting out of the house and seeing my friends, I can’t wait to get home again and explore all the devious imaginings inspiring Matt’s expression. I give him a slow smile that he returns.

  Oh, yes. Tonight is shaping up to be the best night I’ve had in a while.