Christmas in Pine Island: A small town holiday romance

blank faces. I heave a sigh and roll my eyes. “We’re not twenty anymore, guys. Shouldn’t we have matured past all-hours partying a little?”
“Hmm . . .” Chloe says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right, Morgan.”
I respond with a cool wink. “Of course I am.”
Across the VIP booth, Donovan scoffs. His disagreement seems to startle Chloe, who frowns tersely at her fiancé. There’s some sort of tension between the lovebirds at the moment, but I don’t know what it is.
“This is tradition!” Donovan protests. “Why do you think everyone in their forties looks back and calls these the ‘good old days’? We’ve got to enjoy every second we have while we can. I'm not trading in these fun times until I have to.”
“I expected Eric to say that, not you, Donovan!” Stacy laughs. “I would’ve thought Easy E would be the one with the Peter Pan complex.”
“I take great offense to that,” Eric states with feigned indignance.
In one fluid motion, I toss my blonde hair over my shoulder and look at Donovan with my flawless smize, the one gracing dozens of different magazines this month alone. “Who said I'm trading anything in?” I purr. “I'm keeping these good looks as long as I can.”
The table bursts into laughter again, though Donovan doesn’t join in and Chloe’s smile remains tight.
“Cheers to that!” Jake says through his chuckling.
Most of us clink our glasses together, but Donovan is still looking pretty jaded over the prospect of anything changing.
I lean over to him, tapping my glass against his since he wouldn’t acknowledge my cheer a moment ago. “All I'm saying is that we’ve made it. We shouldn’t be doing the same sad Christmas celebrations we did when we were struggling. Don’t you think?”
“Who said I ever struggled?” Donovan shoots back, haughtily.
I laugh. “You know I’m marrying your best friend, right?”
“So?” he challenges.
“So, Eric and I don’t have any secrets.” I wink. “Including all the dorky childhood ones he knows about you.”
Donovan rolls his eyes, but even under the glaring Christmas lights, I can see his cheeks heat. “Touché,” he says, finally raising his glass to his lips.
I grin and sink back against Eric’s side, feeling satisfied—not that I’d ever use any of Eric’s pillow talk against Donovan. Besides, the billionaire’s humble past is nothing to be ashamed of.
I love listening to Eric talk about his and Donovan’s modest beginnings in the suburbs. It sure makes Donovan easier to love. I’m convinced the grouchy billionaire has a soft gooey heart somewhere under his prickly exterior, but boy does he make you dig for it.
From what I know, Donovan is the one among us who had a great childhood and made it big early on in his career. Of the six of us, he’d struggled the least.
It makes me wonder why he’s clinging so hard to these sad traditions.
I lift my drink to my lips and take a swig before giving the group a shrug. “I just think we can do better than continuing to chase the ghosts of sad Christmases past.”

Chloe Martin
Morgan’s words make perfect sense to me, but Donovan is still sitting so stiffly at my side that he might’ve been carved from stone. It’s pretty apparent we’re on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to our lives changing.
That only makes my heart ache more.
“Excuse you!” Stacy snipes at Morgan.
Stacy’s mock-wounded glare collides with Morgan’s beautiful smolder and the two friends have a brief stare-down. I half expect to hear an old-fashioned western whistle while a tumbleweed rolls through the bustling club.
Stacy huffs when she realizes she’ll never beat the smize queen in a stare-off. “I have fond memories of our lame holidays with wine and cold pizza at our crappy little Brooklyn apartment, thank you very much!”
“Damn straight!” I chime in again, suddenly realizing that my words have begun to slur together.
I need to slow down on these cosmos, they’re definitely going to my head a bit. I guess Stacy’s pregnancy has shaken me more than I thought. I get why it’s unearthed some insecurities about my relationship with Donovan but it’s not like he and I can have a real conversation about it right now. Hence my need to quell my worries with a drink . . . or three.
Everything Donovan’s said about not wanting his life to change makes me wonder even more if he’s not ready to settle down—or if it’s just that he doesn’t want to settle down with me?
Is he ready for us to even start thinking about the next step of our lives? Or does he want to avoid it because he can’t seem to imagine it at all?
Do I even want to know the answer?
Even now he’s still frowning, one long leg propped upon his knee.
“Ha! You just admitted we had lame holidays and a crappy apartment!” Morgan says with a victorious cry. She gazes happily between Stacy and me, folding her arms confidently against her chest.
“So what?” Stacy shoots back.
“So you should also admit that we need to step up our game a little now that we have the capability to do so.”
Stacy giggles and rolls her eyes. The two girls playfully continue their banter about what exactly constitutes a ‘lame’ holiday, but my mind is drifting in another direction.
I watch them enviously. They both look so content, like they couldn’t imagine their lives getting any better.
I used to look like that, too. So did Donovan.
Panic slithers into my gut, making me regret that last drink. I glance at Donovan, wondering when we lost that glow that the rest of our friends have.
Stacy and Jake have a baby on the way, and Morgan and Eric get to travel all over the world together dominating runways and stages. It all sounds so exciting, like their futures are all mapped out. And Donovan and I . . . we have our work, but is that all we’ll ever have?
Is it enough?
I hate that I’m the only one struggling with what the future