Page 175 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
“I am sorry it took me killing you all to realize it,” he muttered—foolishly, he knew. But there was the strangestheftto the air, as if four sets of eyes were on him when there was no one in the room. The lights on the tree twinkled in reds, greens and whites, the air around him still and cool.
Tomorrow, people would be crushed into this room. Dancing, drinking, caroling. It would smell like cinnamon and pine and expensive perfume. There would be joy and celebration, and all because Amelia had decided to make joy.
And tried to give it to him when he didn’t deserve it. Her heart was too soft. Her forgiveness too easy. She was young and naive. She didn’t understand.
So this had to end.
One more night together. A goodbye of sorts. He would stay through the ball because he did not want to ruin it for her, because whether she realized it or not, she had not thrown the ballonlyfor him.
She’d thrown it for herself too. A goodbye, and a step in the direction of her future, all at the same time. Amelia was good at that—those dichotomies.
He did not know how to do both. How to constantly live in two worlds—sadness and hope. Love and regret. Grief and joy in memory. They would split him apart.
No, he would never be able to give her that, and that was where she belonged.
Tomorrow night, he would return to where he belonged. It would not be running away. It would be a concrete, careful choice this time.
Because the choice he’d made two years ago had ended too many lives, and he did not deserve a life of happiness in the one place he’d always run away from, with the daughter of the man who’d taught him every important lesson.
She deserved better. So she would have better.
His choice. His consequences.
What about Amelia’s?
He stood staring at the tree, a lancing pain in his chest. The voice in his head sounded too much like hers.
Then a bell tinkled somewhere in the tree, sending a shiver down his spine.
So he left the tree and went to find his goodbye.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ameliaspentmostof her day bustling about, making sure guests were happy and the preparations for the ball were taking place behind the closed ballroom doors, where no one could fully see how the magic was made.
She did not know what Diego was up to, but occasionally she would rush to do something only to be told by one of the staff that Diego had handled it.
Making her job easier.
Every time, it left her a little breathless. Like she wasn’t delusional to think that something was happening. A great awakening. A healing. That the tiniest seed of hope for a future might have been planted in Diego and this was how he was showing her.
He wanted to be here. With her. Her partner. The two of them taking care of each other and stepping into thefuture, even as they honored the past.
She wanted that seed to grow, so she didn’t allow the fear to dull her hopes. That wasn’t what Christmas was about, to her mind. This was the season for hope and magic and joy. She would lean into that.
So tonight. She would tell him tonight.
After the ball, curled up together in what had becometheirbed, she would tell him that she was in love with him. And whatever came after that was hers to deal with.
Her decision. Her consequences.
She liked to think it was full circle. To change what the ball might mean to him into something good. To show him change was possible. Healing was possible.Goodwas possible and he wasn’t undeserving.
She didn’t allow herself to consider his reaction. It wasn’t abouthisreaction. It was about what she felt and sharing it with him. He got to choose how he dealt with that. She could not control it.
If he crushed her heart, at least she’d done something for herself rather than be afraid, rather than blindly follow some grief-stricken attempt to bring her father back to life by doing what he wanted.
Her feelings for Diego were hers and hers alone, and every step she’d made with him had brought them closer together. Every time she’d reached out, he’d followed.
