Page 102 of Stay this Christmas
“Can we talk about this, please?”
He released me and took a step back as though I might respond with one of the jabs we’d practiced at Rumble Room. Smart man.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked in a crisp voice.
“How about why you’re mad at me right now, Harper. I’m not the one who ruined your vacation.”
It wasn’t ruined, just…altered. But that didn’t sound like a very strong defense even to me, especially when I didn’t love the alterations, either.
“You’re mad, too,” I said instead.
“Yeah, I’m mad as hell, but I’m mad on your behalf. You’re not mad at all, and that’s just ticking me off more.”
“What do you want me to do? Quit my job and go be a nomad like you?”
“No, but I’d like you to fight for yourself. They’re taking advantage of you, but you don’t want to accept that.”
“They’re not taking advantage of me.” Things weren’t perfect, but what job ever was? They were still working out the kinks of the PT program. “Long hours are part of the deal in healthcare.”
“This isn’t about hours. You’re letting them work you into the ground, and you’re doing it with a smile because you’re so afraid of how it would look if you spoke up. God forbid you realize your own worth and quit to get something better.”
My chest heaved, my brain denying his accusations at every turn. He had no idea. None. I couldn’t risk my job because of a few small issues. I wasn’t happy with Olivia’s constant schedule changes, but I’d worked too hard to just throw it all away.
“You keep choosing the safe option,” he said. “But is it making you happy?”
Was I happy at Fiesta Village? Most of the time, yes. It fulfilled me, and I took pride in it. I didn’t like working weekends or through my vacations, but if it meant keeping a good job, then I would just have to deal. I couldn’t quit over an inconvenience. Even realizing yesterday that leaving wouldn’t undo all the good I’d done there didn’t mean I actuallywantedto leave.
“What about you, considering a job at your dad’s firm because you’re too afraid to try for what you really want to do? You’re choosing the safe option, too.”
His face contorted like what I’d said didn’t make any sense. “Harper, I’m doing that forus. We can’t have a relationship if I’m away all the time on guiding trips. I’ve seen what that can do to couples, and I don’t want to do that to you.”
I loved the intent behind what he’d just said, but I didn’t want him to give up his dream career because of preemptive guilt. “I’m not asking you to give up what you love and settle for a desk job.”
He stepped closer, taking me lightly by the arms. “Do you not understand? I’m settling for the desk job so Icanhave what I love. I loveyou, Harper. I don’t think I ever stopped. And I don’t want to be with you just on days off, or the rare chance our schedules work out. I want to be with you, always.”
Always? My heart trembled, fluttering around like it needed to be free of my ribcage. Sam loved me. I wanted to stop arguing and float around in that knowledge, but I also didn’t want him to sit at a desk out of some misguided desire to please me.
I couldn’t let him take a job at his dad’s business for the sake of our relationship. It’d be as absurd as me abandoning my college plans so I could travel the world with him—it would go against everything he wanted, and he’d wind up resenting me in the end.
“You’ll be miserable working a job you don’t want to do.”
“No worse than being miserable working a job youdowant to do.”
I stood taller, unwilling to give on the point he kept pushing. “I’m not miserable.”
“You’ve been burning yourself out for years, you just don’t want to see it. You’re so busy taking care of everybody else, you don’t know how to do what’s best foryouanymore.”
I sputtered over a retort that wouldn’t come. Maybe I had been working too hard, but what was the alternative? And he didn’t know what he was talking about, anyway. He’d been gone for years, but he thought he had all the answers after being back two months?
“How is that working out for you? Is thereanythingyou haven’t walked away from in the name of doing what’s best for you?”
He stepped back, a grimace touching his mouth. My blood pounded in my ears in the silence that followed, standing off against him beneath a street lamp whileI’ll Be Home for Christmasechoed through the market. He’d just told me he loved me—how had we gone from that glorious moment to this awful scene?
“You’re right. I’ve walked away from everything and everyone that mattered. But at least I’m actually living my life.”
Indignation rose up like a huge, ugly monstrosity in my chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Look at your life, Harper. You had to make a list just to remind yourself to have a little fun. That’s not really living.”
