Page 14 of Her Frosty Billionaire
I opened my mouth, but Noel beat me to it. “We’re not. We just ran into each other tonight.”
The woman’s smile faltered. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Easy mistake,” I said, cheeks burning.
We just ran into each other. Like the greenhouse hadn’t happened. Like I hadn’t given him everything.
Before I could say anything, his phone rang. “Work,” he said, already walking away.
I listened to his voice harden across the room. “I don’t care if it’s after hours. Fix it. Tonight.” When he came back, I barely recognized him. “Sorry,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Where were we?”
“You were explaining how Christmas is just background noise.”
“Hope, you’re taking this too personally.”
“How else am I supposed to take it? You hate everything about the holiday.”
“I’m realistic.”
“No. You’re cynical.”
“Christmas doesn’t matter, Hope,” he said, tension coming through in his voice. “It’s a holiday. People get through it and move on.”
“Why do you hate it so much?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Of course, you don’t. That would mean feeling something.”
The silence between us buzzed. Then he said, almost to himself, “You want to know why I hate Christmas?”
I nodded.
“My mom loved it.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Every year, the house looked like Santa’s workshop. Then one December, she got sick. Cancer. She was gone by New Year’s.” His eyes were fixed somewhere far away. “My dad couldn’t handle the reminders. So we stopped celebrating. I learned early that Christmas doesn’t bring magic. It just reminds you what’s missing.”
My throat tightened. “Noel…”
“Don’t.” His tone was razor sharp. “It was a long time ago.”
But his voice told a different story—one that never healed.
“So yeah,” he said finally. “I see Christmas for what it is. A commercial holiday that makes people spend money to feel less alone.”
“Or,” I whispered, “it’s a reminder that even in the darkest time of year, there’s still light.”
For a second, his face softened. Then it was gone.
“I used to think that,” he said. “Before.”
“And now?”
“Now I profit from it. And I sleep just fine.”
He didn’t. I could see it.
“I should go,” I said. “Mollie and Avery are waiting.”
“Hope, wait?—”
