“Jake, there is no need for all of this.”
“There is. I haven’t been the friend to you I should have been. I guess when I met Channing, I didn’t think about anything except her and hockey. I know I texted that to you a few months ago, but I wanted to say it in person.” He lifted one corner of his mouth. “I did come by before I took Olivia and the kids to Europe, but you weren’t here.”
“I was in New York.”
“I know. Please say you forgive me.”
It would have been easier to downplay the whole thing and say it didn’t matter. But no one was going to believe that, so she did the next best thing. “It’s in the past. Our friendship goes back far and deep. It can withstand a storm or two.” The truth of that lightened her heart.
Jake looked relieved, happy even. Maybe she did matter to him. “I shouldn’t have let our friendship slip away—let you slip away.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Slip away? With that, Mad slammed a boxing glove into Glad’s face and a foot on to its fallen body.
Why had he had to go and say that? She hadn’t slipped away. She had gone kicking and screaming. It was true that she hadn’t contacted him for a month after that Christmas—the Christmas of Channing—but wasn’t she entitled to that, considering how things went down? And he damn sure hadn’t bothered with her.
Evans had been home from culinary school for the holidays, and Jake from the University of North Dakota. They hadn’t seen each other since summer, so they’d filled their plates with Anna-Blair’s fancy canapés and found a corner to catch up—though catching up wasn’t really necessary, because back then they talked and messaged each other at least three times a week. But they laughed and talked and she thought she’d finally seen the spark she’d felt for twenty years reflected in his eyes. He almost confirmed it when he said, “You know, Evie, my fraternity spring formal is going to be in New Orleans, and I was thinking that—”
But she’d never know for absolute certain what he had been thinking. Maybe he wasn’t going to invite her. Maybe he was only going to ask her for a ride from the airport or advice about where to get the best gumbo.
Channing’s family seldom made the trip from Memphis to Cottonwood and never for Christmas—but they had that year. And Channing chose that precise moment to sail in, looking like Vogue and smelling like Chanel. Or maybe it was Joy. Who the hell knew? It damned sure wasn’t vanilla extract. Whatever it was, Evans had gotten a good whiff when Channing swooped in and hugged her—something Evans could never recall happening before. Of course, Channing had never walked in on Evans in conversation with someone who looked like Jake before either. “Well, cousin, who do you have here?” Channing had asked. Evans had introduced them, and then it was all over but the crying.
And Evans had cried—for a month. But what purpose would it serve to go into all that with Jake? It was over. It didn’t matter—except it did. Strange that it only occurred to her now that if Jake had been planning to ask her to the dance, maybe it was because she was going to school in New Orleans anyway—convenient.
“You know, Jake, I didn’t slip away.” She took down her ponytail and put it back up again. “I didn’t go easily.” After that month had passed, she’d batted back the humiliation and put on her big girl panties. Still, no matter how many times she’d called or texted, he never had time for her. Even if he answered, he was somewhere else. The next time she’d seen him had been in New Orleans the morning after that dance, when she’d met him and Channing at Brennan’s for breakfast. Channing had brought the nosegay of white roses and succulents that Jake had bought her for the dance and held hands with him under the table. Evans had cursed herself for saying yes to that breakfast invitation, when she should have said no. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. “I fought for our friendship.”
The moment the words cleared her mouth, she was sorry. He’d apologized. What more did she want? Jake’s face went white and he put his fork down. Understandable. He probably didn’t want to eat any more of her pie after what she’d said. Why hadn’t she just left it alone?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” she said hurriedly.
“Why? It’s true.” There was real hurt on his face.
“Nonetheless. You apologized, and I wasn’t gracious about it. And after all you’ve been through. It’s behind us. Let’s move forward.”
He looked skeptical, but nodded. “That’s all I want. And you’ve been gracious to forgive me at all.” Eyes wide. Head cocked. Lip bite. “I’ll make it up to you.”
He had never, as far as she could remember, had to get to the lip biting with her before. “There’s nothing to make up.”
He picked up his fork again. “I disagree, though it may not be possible. But I will say this: for a while there, I forgot what was important. After the divorce, I forgot my raising. But after Blake... It made me stop and think. I won’t forget again. I’m going to be a better man—a better friend.”
He covered her hand with his, and her heart dropped like a fallen star.
“We’re good.” What was wrong with being convenient anyway?
Then he nodded and smiled like he was pleased. Pleasing Jake Champagne had once been her life’s work.
She supposed she was glad she had finally accomplished it.
Copyright © 2021 by Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones
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ISBN-13: 9780369706492
Colorado Christmas Magic
Copyright © 2021 by Caitlin McKenna
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