Three Christmas Wishes. Sheila Roberts

it would be a big gathering. In addition to a couple of aunts and uncles, some cousins and a grandma, Riley’s brother, Harold, would be there with his wife and daughter. And, of course, so would Jo, a Wilton by marriage but forever an Erickson at heart. However, she’d be minus her husband. Mike was in the navy, stationed on a sub, which was out at sea.

      Jo rubbed her back. “This kid needs to come soon.”

      It was her constant lament lately. Understandable, though. The baby was due any day.

      “First babies take their time,” Mom liked to say.

      “Well, this one’s taking enough time for two babies,” Jo would respond. “At the rate I’m going, it’ll be Valentine’s Day before I have this kid.”

      Then Mom would say, “Maybe she’s waiting until her daddy comes home.”

      Jo never found that remark cute. “Mike won’t be here until the middle of December. Don’t say stuff like that, Mom! If I don’t have this baby pretty soon, I’m going to explode.” Jo was a little dramatic these days.

      But Riley wasn’t going to point fingers. She’d spent some time on the drama-queen throne a few months ago when Jo backed out of being her matron of honor. “Thanks a lot,” she’d grumbled like a true loving sister. “You couldn’t have waited a few months to get pregnant?” She’d been all excited about the baby—until Annabelle Rose upset her wedding plans. Not one of her finer moments, she had to admit. It became easy to kill her inner Bridezilla, though, after Jo asked how she’d like it if her matron of honor went into labor in the middle of the wedding ceremony.

      Everything had worked out just fine, anyway, and she had her two BFFs to stand up with her.

      “Have you made your pies yet?” Jo asked her.

      Riley shook her head. “I’m doing them tomorrow so they’ll be fresh.”

      “Ms. Organized,” Jo teased.

      “I want them to be good.”

      “They will be. You’re the queen of the kitchen, for crying out loud.”

      “We all have to be the queen of something,” Riley said. As a personal stylist, her sister had the clothes market cornered. She claimed that since this was her business she had to look good. But really, she’d look ready for an ad in Vogue no matter what she did. Jo had flair.

      “So, are you and Sean doing anything tonight?” Jo asked.

      “No.” Riley shrugged. “He has to work at the gym.”

      Jo frowned. “He sure seems to work a lot of overtime lately.”

      “He has his own business,” Riley reminded her. “You know what that’s like.”

      “I do, but I still make time for the important people in my life.”

      “Sean makes plenty of time for me,” Riley insisted.

      Jo shrugged and changed the subject. “Want to stay for dinner?”

      “What are you making?”

      “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jo said with a grin.

      “I should’ve known there was a catch,” Riley said, but she was grinning, too.

      She dug a couple of frozen chicken breasts out of Jo’s freezer and baked them with an orange sauce, then put together a tossed salad to go with them. It was what she’d planned to make for Sean. Before he informed her he had to stay at the gym. Sigh.

      After dinner the sisters watched a movie. Actually, Riley watched it and Jo napped through most of it.

      In spite of her evening nap, Jo was looking pooped so Riley cleaned up the kitchen then said her goodbyes and went home to her apartment. It wasn’t all that late. Maybe Sean would like to come over for a while now. Surely he could leave the gym by nine.

      She tried his cell but it went to voice mail. Double sigh.

      “Hi. It’s me. Just thought you might like to come over when you’re done working. Call me,” she added.

      He didn’t.

      She tried again an hour later and got his voice mail. “Oh, well. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mom wants us there at three so we’ll need to leave by ten to. Love you.”

      She ended the call with a frown and plugged her phone in to recharge. Leaving a voice mail was so unsatisfying when you were in love. She turned on her electric fireplace and plunked down on the couch. A fire in the fireplace was romantic, even if the fireplace was electric and mainly for show. Too bad Sean wasn’t here to cuddle with her and enjoy it. Well, tomorrow night he would be. The gym would be closed on Thanksgiving, and she’d have him all to herself. Tomorrow was going to be wonderful.

      The day certainly started out that way. Her pumpkin pies—the first she’d ever made, thank you very much—came out beautifully. She decided to celebrate with a homemade eggnog latte. (If she kept doing that, she’d be a size ten forever, but so what? Sean loved her just as she was.)

      She was taking a sip when her cell phone rang. “Let’s Hear it for the Boy,” Sean’s ringtone.

      “Hello there, Mr. Little,” she answered.

      And now he’d say, “Hello there, future Mrs. Little.”

      Except he didn’t. He said, “Riley, I need to talk to you.” He sounded serious.

      Oh, boy. She knew what that meant. He was going to weasel out of going to her parents’ for Thanksgiving. For some reason, lately he didn’t like hanging out with her family. He’d actually canceled on attending her brother’s birthday party the month before. When she’d asked him what that was about, he’d used work as an excuse. “Anyway, I don’t think your brother likes me,” he’d added.

      Which was ridiculous. Harold liked him just fine. Okay, Harold thought he was a tool. But what did Harold know?

      “You don’t want to go to Mom and Dad’s?” she guessed.

      “It’s not that.”

      “Then what?”

      “I should come over.”

      “You’re coming over in a few hours,” she pointed out. Not that she’d mind seeing him now, but it was only ten in the morning and she’d been busy baking and hadn’t gotten around to showering yet and she hated it when Sean didn’t see her at her best.

      “I know, I know,” he said, but not to her.

      Now she heard a voice in the background. Who was he talking to? “Sean, what’s going on?”

      “I’m not sure how to say this.”

      Riley felt the blood start rushing from her head. Something bad was about to happen. She could feel the impending doom buzzing in the air around her. She fell onto the nearest bar stool, bracing herself.

      There was that voice again, decidedly female. Riley suddenly felt as if she’d swallowed a block of ice.

      “I am,” Sean said, again not to Riley. “Riley...”

      “Yes?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

      “There’s no easy way to say this. We need to break up.”

      “Break up?”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “But...we’re getting married in three weeks. And two days,” she amended. Three weeks and two days to go and Sean wanted to break up. Now the ice was melting and pouring out of her eyes.

      “I’m really sorry. But if we get married it’ll be a big mistake.”

      It would? This was news to her. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” She had to be asleep. That was it. She was asleep and this