The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection. Maisey Yates

than I was used to and I didn’t know how to read him, or his postcard. He was gone, and that was that.

      Just then Micah wandered in, lugging another big box of Christmas decorations, and I was glad for the interruption. Having my easy-going best friend from Evergreen and my fashion-conscious best friend from Manhattan in one place might have proved tricky for some, but not for these two. They had gelled from the get-go and delighted in ganging up and teasing me good-naturedly, just as I would expect from both of them. Proof I had good taste in friends.

      “Three more boxes to go. Jesus, Clio, when you decorate you don’t go lightly, do you?” He wiped a layer of sheen from his brow.

      I stared him down. “It’s Christmas, Micah. And you of all people should know what that means.” When I had lived in Evergreen as a teenager, Christmas had been left to me, and that meant Micah had been roped in to help, no matter how much he’d complained. From decorating the fir trees in the front yard, to hanging fairy lights in the window, he’d been part of every step, willing or not. Secretly, he adored Christmas but thought it unmanly to admit it. I’d been able to read that guy like a book back then, and nothing had changed.

      “It means carols on a loop, eggnog for weeks, and lots of sparkly things, right?” he said, hands on jean clad hips.

      “Right! And that’s just the beginning,” I added, grinning. Christmas was my favorite time of year. And that meant any Grinches had to suffer in silence or face my steely-eyed glare. I had plans for an intimate Christmas Eve party, with all the trimmings. It didn’t matter if I was hosting a party for four or four hundred – it had to be right. The lodge would shine so brightly you’d see it all the way from Australia if you squinted hard enough. So what if I liked Christmas? It was the one time of year when you could be sentimental and surround yourself with friends who were more like family. I loved every single part of it, including decorating like my life depended on it.

      Amory held up two baubles to her ears like earrings. “We should get some tacky Christmas jewelry. You know, the type that flashes?” She swapped the baubles for a trio of star statues that she centered on the coffee table.

      “We definitely should.”

      “Are you going to reply? I notice he’s scrawled a return address on the card…” She took an ornate angel from the box and set it on the mantelpiece, casually bumping me out of the way with her hip as if I wouldn’t notice she’d switched the conversation back to Kai.

      I bent to the box and grabbed a length of golden glittery beads out, intending to wind them around the stairwell bannisters in the lobby. “I don’t know. Anyway, what about you? Why’d you leave Manhattan?”

      I propped the postcard on the mantel, near the rosy-red stockings hanging at an angle, waiting to be stuffed by Santa (a girl could still believe).

      A gold Christmas candle threw light around the space, flickering festively. Amory nodded to Micah’s bent head, as if to say not in front of him.

      “Oh, don’t mind Micah. He’s used to doling out advice to women.” Better if there were no secrets between us, then less chance I would talk out of turn. Besides, Micah was a good sounding board. He wasn’t dismissive like some men could be. Still, Amory shrunk back as if she didn’t want to share with him just yet.

      Micah got the hint and said, “How about I make us some eggnog from my secret recipe?” He waggled his brows and I knew that meant he’d probably do his usual heavy-handed trick and add too much bourbon. He said it had to buzz on your tongue or it wasn’t Christmas. Yeah, right. Micah just really liked bourbon.

      “Bring back a plate of gingerbread men too!” I said. “The ones with the little snowflake scarves!” Something to soak up the alcohol…

      “And grab some of those reindeer cookies Georges made!” Amory faced me, patting her belly. “Your chef will be my downfall, you know.”

      “Mine too. Let’s worry about that next year.”

      She nodded. “Yeah, no one watches their weight over Christmas. That’s just rude.”

      Micah shook his head ruefully as he wandered down the hallway. “Just yell out if I can do anything else, princesses.”

      The Christmas carols had finished so I pressed the go button again, smiling as Dean Martin warbled ‘Let it Snow’… Peeking outside, snowflakes seesawed down, blanketing the ground white; I couldn’t wait for the brides to see Cedarwood in all its wintry glory, flashing festively and dusted with soft white snow. Who wouldn’t want a winter wonderland wedding here?

      It was Christmas-card perfect. Warm, welcoming and ready for guests.

      “Anyway…” I dragged myself back to the decorations and took some reindeer bunting from the box. “What happened? Tell me everything…”

      Amory fiddled with a big golden wreath for the front door, bending it back into shape and said, “It’s a long story.”

      “We’ve got time.” She’d try anything to avoid talking about it, and it was totally out of character for her. I’d left her to stew on it, thinking she’d confess when she was ready, but now I felt like she needed a push. Besides, I was worried about her. She wasn’t one to keep secrets.

      She sighed. “You’re going to think I’m slightly insane, really you will, so just pretend I’m not – OK? Keeping in mind I’ve been dating Cruz for just over a year, yeah? Not five years, not ten, not…”

      “I get it,” I interrupted solemnly, noting her downturned lips, the slight tremble in her hands. Amory would try and make the situation funny, or lighthearted; it was her way to downplay things, but I could see whatever it was had obviously affected her.

      “So, Cruz invited me over for dinner. As you know, our dates went inexplicably from twice a week to almost every day – it was all getting very serious quite rapidly. After a month of that he was dropping hints about how settling down really appealed to him, babbling about friends of his who’d just had a baby who was as cute-as-a-button. He actually said cute-as-a-button…”

      “Oh… a baby.” I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything more. Amory had zero inclination to have children. Less than zero. She was openly opposed to it and had told Cruz early on it was a deal breaker for her. He’d accepted that, not having the desire himself. They weren’t that serious, anyway, or so I’d thought, according to Amory.

      “Right?” She toyed with a length of tinsel. “So, I go there for this fancy, home-cooked meal, he’s got this little table set for two, candles, flowers, soft music, the whole nine yards.”

      I turned the carols down slightly so I could concentrate. “OK, none of that screams weird to me, but keep going.” I’d always liked Cruz – for a Manhattanite, he was more grounded than most, and didn’t bother with the pretensions of big-city living. He was himself, always, a smoldering-eyed, nice guy who showed his love for Amory in little romantic ways all the time. He didn’t get moody about girls’ nights out and gave Amory space when she needed it without question, which she did oftentimes. He understood her work came first, and her friends were like family. When she was having a high-maintenance day, he rolled with it, rueful grin in place, mouth shut against her sudden diva demands. He was a keeper in my books.

      “So I sat there sort of stiffly, feeling a little uncomfortable. The night reeked of change, and I wasn’t sure why. But I could feel it in my bones. He popped the champagne cork and poured. I didn’t even wait to clink, I guzzled it down. And then another.”

      I laughed, imagining her pinched face, her wide-eyed worry as she quaffed expensive champagne like it was water. “Classy.”

      “It gets worse,” she groaned. “He pottered about making the entrée, a fancy ceviche dish that took an age to assemble…”

      I interrupted. “Is he a good cook, though? That’s the big question.” Was I the only one who routinely set smoke alarms off by burning toast? I was easily