Lauren answered quietly, “I’m alone.”
Poor Conlan. Angie watched him melt, right there at the head of the table with the cards in his hands. The reporter face gave way, leaving behind the sad, lined face of a man who was worried.
Angie could tell he was trying to back away from the emotion he’d stirred up, but he was caught, trapped by the tears in a girl’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Angie tells me you’re interested in journalism.” There it was: higher ground.
Lauren nodded. She led with the two of diamonds. “Yes.”
Conlan played the king. “Maybe you’d like to come to work with me someday. I could introduce you to some of the people there; let you see how reporters work.”
When she looked back on it, Angie saw how everything had changed in that moment. The interrogation vanished, leaving in its place a mini-party. For the next hour, they talked and laughed and played cards. Conlan told a series of funny work stories about stupid criminals. Angie and Lauren relayed some of their cookie-making mishaps.
At around ten o’clock, the phone rang. It was David, calling from Aspen. Lauren took the phone upstairs.
Conlan turned to Angie. She wasn’t sure, but she thought it was the first time he’d dared to look at her.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“It’s Christmas Eve. You’re my family.”
She wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but she felt awkward, unsure. After all those years of living and loving together, they were separate now. “Habit isn’t enough,” she said softly.
“No.”
“Is it a start?”
Before he could answer, Lauren bounded back into the room, smiling brightly, looking like a girl with her whole life in front of her. “He misses me,” she said, sliding into her seat and scooting up to the table.
Angie and Conlan immediately went back to playing cards. For the next hour, they all talked about things that didn’t matter.
It was the best night Angie had had in years. So much so that when midnight came and Lauren announced that she was going to bed, Angie actually tried to talk her out of it. She didn’t want this evening to end.
“Ange,” Conlan said, “let the poor girl go to bed. It’s late. How can Santa come if she’s not asleep?”
Lauren laughed. It was a young, girlish sound full of hope. It did Angie’s heart good to hear it. “Well, good night,” Lauren said, surging toward Angie, hugging her. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. When she drew back she added, “This was my best Christmas Eve ever.” Then she flashed a smile at Conlan and left the room.
Angie sat back in her chair. With Lauren gone, the room felt too quiet.
“How are you going to make it through her pregnancy?” Conlan asked the question gently, as if the words caused him pain. “How will you handle watching her belly grow and feeling the baby kick and shopping for onesies?”
“It will hurt.”
“Yes.”
Her gaze was steady, even if her voice wasn’t. “Not being there for her would hurt more.”
“We’ve been through this before.”
Angie thought about that, about them. They’d played cards with Sarah Dekker, too, and watched television with her and bought her new clothes. But it had always been the unborn child that connected them. “No,” she finally said. “Not this.”
“Hope always came easily to you, Angie. It was part of what ruined us. You don’t know how to give up.”
“Hope was all I had.”
“No. You had me.”
The truth of it settled heavily on her heart. “Let’s not look in the rearview mirror tonight. I love you. Can that be enough for now?”
“For tonight, you mean?”
She nodded. “Alcoholics take one day at a time. Maybe old lovers can do the same thing.”
At that, he leaned toward her, put his hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her toward him. Their gazes met; hers was overbright with unshed tears, his was dark with worry.
He kissed her. It was everything she needed, that kiss, and more than she’d imagined. The next thing she knew, he had her in his arms and was carrying her up the stairs. He started to go to Angie’s old bedroom.
She laughed. “The big bedroom. We’re the grown-ups now.”
He pivoted, pushed through the door, and kicked it shut behind him.
The next morning when Angie woke up, her whole body ached. She rolled onto her side and snuggled up to Conlan, kissing his stubbled jawline. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured, moving her hand along his naked chest.
He blinked awake. “Merry Christmas.”