“Oh, you know,” Mom said with the kind of innocent expression that immediately put me on high alert, “just that you’ve been coordinating the Christmas festival with LindaWinters’ daughter, and that you two make a lovely team, and that Jessica Peterson thinks you’re going to make beautiful babies together.”
“Jessica Peterson thinks what?” I said, feeling my face heat up like a teenager caught looking at inappropriate magazines.
“Beautiful babies,” Dad repeated helpfully, looking up from the coffee maker. “Apparently, the entire town has been taking bets on when you’d figure out you were in love with each other.”
“We’re not—” I started automatically, then stopped because I was tired of denying something that was obviously true to everyone, including myself. “It’s complicated.”
“Love usually is,” Mom said with obvious satisfaction. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
Before I could figure out how to explain the various complications currently making my life feel like it was written by someone with a sadistic sense of humor, the doorbell rang.
“I wonder if that’s Holly,” Mom said brightly, heading for the front door with obvious excitement.
Mom opened the front door to reveal Holly standing on our front porch, looking beautiful and nervous and slightly confused about why my mother had opened the door when she was expecting to talk to me privately after the festival.
“Mrs. Hayes,” Holly said politely, though her eyes immediately found mine with obvious question. “How lovely to see you again. I hope you had a wonderful vacation.”
“Call me Carol,” Mom said warmly, ushering Holly inside with the kind of maternal efficiency that brooked no argument. “And it was lovely, though we missed being home for the holidays. We wanted to get back in time for the big day.”
“Mom,” I said, hoping to redirect the conversation before she started showing Holly my baby pictures or asking about her intentions regarding my future, “maybe we should?—”
“Holly, dear,” Mom interrupted, “can I get you a glass of wine? Or tea?”
“Tea would be lovely,” Holly said, though she was still looking at me with the kind of expression that suggested she was trying to figure out if this parental ambush was my idea or something that had happened to both of us.
As Mom bustled around the kitchen preparing coffee and Dad regaled Holly with stories about their Florida adventures, I tried to figure out how to navigate the conversation I’d been planning to have with Holly privately while my parents conducted obviously enthusiastic romantic surveillance, all the while the seconds were ticking further past my Richard-given deadline.
“So, Holly,” Dad said, settling into his favorite kitchen chair with obvious satisfaction, “Are you home for the holidays or is this a move back to the old hometown?”
“Uhm,” Holly said, accepting a cup of tea from Mom with obvious gratitude. “I’m actually trying to figure out what comes next.”
The way she said it suggested she was talking about more than just career planning, and I wondered if she was having the same kind of life-altering realizations that had been keeping me awake for the past week.
“That’s exciting,” Mom said encouragingly. “Sometimes the best opportunities come when we’re open to new possibilities.”
“Sometimes,” Holly agreed, though something in her expression suggested she was grappling with exactly those kinds of new possibilities.
“Declan’s in a similar situation,” Dad added helpfully. “Big decisions about his future, career changes, that sort of thing.”
“Dad,” I said quickly, knowing that my parents were about to inadvertently reveal my career crisis before I’d had a chance to discuss it with Holly myself.
“What?” Dad said with obvious innocence. “I’m just saying that you’re both at interesting crossroads in your lives. Seems like good timing.”
Good timing. If only he knew that Holly and I had been dancing around each other for weeks, both keeping secrets about our futures while falling for each other in ways that complicated every decision we were trying to make.
“Actually,” Holly said carefully, setting down her tea, “I need to talk to Declan. Could we maybe talk privately for a minute?”
“Of course,” I managed, though what I was thinking was that private conversation was exactly what we should have been having days ago.
“You can use the living room,” Mom offered helpfully. “We’ll just finish cleaning up in here.”
As Holly and I made our way to the living room, I tried to figure out how to bring up my decision and what it meant for us.
“Holly,” I said, settling beside her on the couch, “I need to tell you something. About New York.”
She simply stared at me, waiting.
“I’m not going back,” I said, the words coming out in a rush before I could lose my nerve. “My firm gave me an ultimatum today—come back immediately or lose my position permanently. The deadline was 5 PM.”
