Page 81 of Mistletoe and Mayday
“It’s okay,” Bailey tells the guard, waving him off. “We can talk outside.”
Her voice is neutral, but her eyes keep darting to me then away, like she’s afraid to look too long.
The security guard releases my arm, his suspicious gaze never leaving my face.
Bailey nods once and turns, not waiting to see if I follow. Of course, I follow. I’d follow her anywhere.
She leads me through a service door into a small concretearea between buildings. The roar of jet engines provides a constant backdrop, and the air smells of fuel and winter. Her shoulders form a rigid line under her uniform jacket.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Shouldn’t you be busy with...whatever billionaires do?”
Family expectations. Business obligations. A perfectly crafted life that suddenly felt like a prison.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I say, the words inadequate.
She turns, then crosses her arms tight against her chest like armor. “Why?”
One simple question. The most complicated answer.
I reach into my bag and pull out the first snow globe. The Chicago skyline with tiny silver flakes that dance when shaken. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Her eyes fix on the snow globe, widening slightly.
I pull out the second one. The Empire State Building amid swirling white. “Because when I tried to go back to my life, it didn’t fit anymore. Because you showed me what’s real.”
Her arms uncross, hands hanging at her sides. “Sebastian?—”
“I’m not done.” My voice cracks, emotion breaking through the cracks of my composure. “I have more snow globes in my bag.”
A tiny smile flickers at the corner of her mouth. “That’s...excessive.”
“I would have bought more,” I admit, the words coming easier now, “but I ran out of airports.”
The wind whips her escaped hair around her face. She tucks it behind her ear with a hand that isn’t quite steady. Something flutters in my chest at the familiar gesture.
“What aboutRebecca?”
“There is no Rebecca. Not since that hotel room in Alaska.”
Bailey’s eyebrows pull together, that little crease forming between them that I’ve come to recognize as her trying to process something unexpected.
“But at the hospital, she was there. She was...” Her voice trails off.
“A mistake I should have corrected right then.” The admission comes easier than I expected. “I told my parents everything. I broke things off. I’m never going to see her again.”
Bailey’s eyes search my face, looking for the lie, for the crack in my certainty. She won’t find one.
“But your parents?—”
“Don’t make my decisions. Well, not anymore anyway.”
The jet engines roar louder, forcing me to step closer still. Close enough to see the tiny freckles across her nose.
“She was never...” I struggle to find the right words, my usual eloquence deserting me. “Rebecca was what I thought I was supposed to want. But I was so caught up in what everything was supposed tolook likethat I never noticed I wasn’t happy.”
She looks down, scuffing her boot against the concrete. “And your perfect life? Your family? The whole CEO thing?”
“Still there.” I take another step closer, careful, like approaching something wild that might bolt. “But I don’t want perfect anymore.”
