Page 33 of Holidate Scramble
"Is it because of her?" The façade cracked, revealing a flash of genuine anger. "This infatuation won't last, Rhett. You know that. She's a meaningless diversion.”
"This isn't about Piper," I said, though of course, in many ways, it was. "It's about us. About the fact that we haven't been a real couple for years before the divorce. About the fact that I've changed—I've grown."
"Changed?" She laughed, a brittle sound that matched the crackling of frozen leaves beneath our feet. "To what? A small-town doctor dating a girl who organizes cookie competitions?"
Her words, dripping with condescension, crystallized something for me. Whatever doubts I might have had about my new life, my relationship with Piper, they vanished in the face of Adrienne's contempt. In that moment, the contrast between the women’s natures couldn't have been clearer.
"Yes," I said simply. "Exactly that."
She blinked, disbelief written across her features. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious." I took another step back, creating space between us as the first snowflakes began to fall. "I'm sorry, Adrienne, but it's too late for us. It was too late long before the divorce."
"And what about your career?" she demanded, switching tactics. "Stanford told me they've offered you head of cardiothoracic surgery. Chief of surgery within five years. Everything you've worked for."
So that was it—the real reason for her sudden desire to reconcile. With me as chief of surgery at Boston Memorial, her position at NeuraTech would be significantly strengthened. The connection wasn't lost on me.
"I haven't decided about Boston yet," I said honestly. "But whatever I choose, it won't include getting back together with you."
Her composure cracked completely then, her jaw tightening as color rose to her cheeks. "You're throwing away everything—your career, your reputation, our family—for what? Some small-town fling that won't last the winter?"
"I'm choosing a life with meaning," I said quietly. "Something I should have done years ago."
We stood facing each other as snow began falling in earnest, white flakes catching in her dark hair and on the shoulders of her designer coat. In that moment, I felt nothing but a deep, abiding sadness for what we'd once been to each other—and profound relief that I was no longer trapped in the hollow shell our marriage had become.
"I think you should go," I said finally. "Back to your hotel. You're welcome to attend the gala tonight—I can't stop you—but I'd appreciate it if you'd leave Piper and me alone."
"This isn't over." Her voice cut through the cold air like ice.
"It is for me." I turned toward my front door. "For the children's sake, I hope we can be civil to each other in the future. But beyond that, there's nothing left to discuss."
Before she could respond, I walked inside and closed the door firmly behind me. Through the window, I watched her stand there for a long moment, snowflakes gathering on her shoulders, before returning to her car and driving away.
I sank into the nearest chair, the confrontation leaving me both drained and oddly liberated. I'd finally broken the hold history had on me, giving me the freedom to chart a new path.
My phone buzzed with a text from Piper:
Can't wait for tonight.
A smile spread across my face as I typed back:
Wear your dancing shoes, because I’m going to sweep you off your feet.
Too late.She typed back.Because you already have.
Upstairs, I laid out my tuxedo and checked the time. Three hours until I would pick up Piper for the gala—an event that had once filled me with dread but now felt like an opportunity to show the world, or at least our small corner of it, exactly what she meant to me.
And that was worth celebrating.
