Page 95 of Bound By Crimson
“Lyric—this is…” Kat’s hand shook as she held up the cheque. “This is more than I make in a year. I can’t—”
“You can,” Lyric said firmly. “You’ve been a great help. I couldn’t have done this without you. I want you to have it.”
Kat’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But what about your new life? The baby? You don’t have to—”
“I do, Kat. I’m closing this store suddenly on you. I don’t want to leave you with nothing… I think you are forgetting thatI am Kai Thorn’s girlfriend… I will be fine,” she teased gently.
Kat let out a small chuckle and wiped her cheeks clumsily. “I’m gonna blow it on something stupid, aren’t I?”
Lyric smiled faintly. “Probably.”
Kat pulled her into a tight hug. “Good luck. You’re gonna be amazing at whatever comes next.”
---
Then Lyric stepped inside the boutique one last time.
She walked through the space slowly, her fingers trailing over the counter where she used to sketch on slow days. The dressing rooms where she’d watched customers fall in love with their reflections.
The back office where she once cried with joy after her first sold-out launch.
She paused in front of a forgotten pinboard. A single sketch was still pinned there—creased and half-finished.
She stared at it, heart squeezing, then pulled it free and folded it carefully into her purse.
Some things were too personal to leave behind.
When she turned to go, the store echoed around her.
Hollow. Quiet. Done.
She locked the door and didn’t look back.
---
Three months passed.
The air turned sharp, winter crept into the city’s bones. The boutique was sold. Lyric’s sketches were boxed away. Her nights grew quieter, her world smaller.
She and Kai stayed close, building their little future in moments between errands and estate paperwork and whispers in the dark.
But South Carolina waited.
And soon, it was time.
---
The next morning as they stepped outside, twinkling Christmas lights lined the nearby windows and lampposts—just like they had when she arrived in New York a year ago. The city had looked like a dream then. And now, as she prepared to leave it behind, everything glowed in soft, bittersweet symmetry.
Her chest ached. Not just from goodbye, but from the quiet reminder that an entire year had passed—and nothing about the holidays had changed.
Kai once said his family never celebrated Christmas. They didn’t see the point. If they wanted anything, they just bought it. They had money.
Lyric secretly hoped when the baby came, she’d be able to change that.
Then she saw Rowan waiting by the curb, bundled in a thick coat, scarf looped around her neck, eyes glossy.
“I wasn’t going to let you leave without saying goodbye,” Rowan said, pulling Lyric into a hug. “I’m so happy for you. And terrified. But mostly happy.”
