Page 89 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

33

JOY

The wine was perfectly chilled, the cheese board artfully arranged, and the gingerbread men were lined up like little edible soldiers waiting to be decorated. Katrina had gone all out for our girls’ night, transforming her cozy living room into the perfect setting for an evening of gossip and indulgence.

It had been too long since I got to hang out with a girlfriend. I didn’t really have friends in New York. There were a few women I went out to the clubs with, but none that I could put on a pair of sweats and chat with.

It was just another part of life I had been missing out on. When I left Calton Hill, I left so much behind.

“Okay,” she said, settling cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table laden with our supplies. “I’ve got icing in four colors, enough sprinkles to decorate a parade float, and two bottles of wine that are definitely beckoning to us.”

I laughed, already feeling the warm buzz of relaxation that came with good company and the promise of an evening without responsibilities. “This is exactly what I needed. Between the festival planning and everything else, I feel like I haven’t had a chance to just breathe.”

“Well, tonight we breathe,” Katrina declared, raising her wine glass in a mock toast. “And eat sugar. And talk shit about anybody and everybody.”

“The best kind of girls’ night,” I agreed, clinking my glass against hers.

We dove into the gingerbread decorating. The cookies were going to be for the guys at the firehouse. I piped tiny buttons down the front of my cookie’s vest while Katrina created an elaborate bow tie on hers.

“Remember when we used to do this at your grandmother’s house?” Katrina asked, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated on getting the bow tie perfectly symmetrical. “She always let us eat half the decorating supplies before we even started on the cookies.”

“Grandma Murphy believed in the healing properties of sugar,” I said with a smile. “She said a little sweetness could cure most of life’s problems.”

“Smart woman. I still miss her, you know. The whole town does.”

“She would have loved seeing the festival come together.”

“Speaking of which,” Katrina said, reaching for another gingerbread man. “How are you feeling about the festival? Nervous? Excited? Ready to run screaming into the night?”

“All of the above,” I admitted. “But mostly excited. I think it’s going to be something really special.”

I sipped my wine and let the warmth spread through me. She had put on some holiday music. Not the old school Elvis and Bing, but the newer stuff. Kelly Clarkson was singing about being dressed in red or something. I liked it, but I would pick Elvis over Mariah any day of the week.

“So, how did you like living in New York? We didn’t talk much after you left.”

I winced. It wasn’t an accusation, but I heard the hurt undertones.

“It was okay,” I said.

“It must have been quite an adjustment after growing up here.”

I considered the question while adding tiny dots of icing for eyes to my gingerbread man. How did I explain the complexity of my relationship with city life? The way it had both exhilarated and exhausted me in equal measure?

“I liked that there was always so much to do,” I said. “Museums, theaters, restaurants, concerts—you could spend every night for a year experiencing something new and still barely scratch the surface. And that was just in my little corner of the city.”

“And the downsides?” Katrina prompted, clearly hearing the qualification in my voice.

“Everything felt so rushed. So urgent and immediate and demanding of your attention every second.” I set down my decorating bag and reached for my wine glass. “So many people everywhere, all the time, which was great until you wanted some peace and quiet and alone time. And if you can’t tune out the chaos, it becomes a part of you. Even going to Central Park you were surrounded by people. There was never any true peace.”

Katrina nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds overwhelming.”

“It could be. I think I spent so much energy just managing the noise and the pace and the constant stimulation that I forgot what it felt like to really relax.” I gestured around her cozy living room, with its soft lighting and comfortable furniture and the complete absence of sirens or traffic or the sound of eight million people going about their lives. “The peace and warmth and community of Calton Hill… I didn’t know I wanted those things until I was back.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m wondering how I survived without them for so long.”

Katrina was quiet for a moment, focusing intently on creating what appeared to be a tiny gingerbread mustache. That or a snaggletooth. “Are you going to stay?” she asked without looking up. “Or is this just a temporary break from your real life?”