The champagne carbonation burns my throat going down, but I’m in a hurry to get out of here. It’s the last event on my schedule this week. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I fly out tonight to New Zealand. I never mind the Big 10’s holiday party. Usually it’s one I look forward to, except for tonight. After the interview, and my run in with Ocean and Beckett at YG, the work week dragged on. It’s not that I expected Amelia to call after the interview aired, but I had hoped. Once it was out, the new headlines were all over the tabloids and social media the next day.
Happily Ever After.
A Cinderella Story.
Not So Star-Crossed.
My gut rolled every time I saw them, and renewed anger would blaze in my veins. This was the direction I wanted things to go, but the sway of the reporters disgusted me, when I only knew months later, they had been printing such horrible things.
I had confronted Marshall about his knowledge on what was happening. He swore he wasn’t supplying information or interviews to the reporters. Something still didn’t feel right though. In my gut I was starting not to trust him. I needed my previous secretary, Katie, to come back. She had reported that as per the contract with York, she needed one more month to train a new secretary, then she would be back. Which meant one more week with Marshall. I decided keeping all my personal matters to myself was going to be the best option. He seemed on edge as well. I remember his face paling slightly when I told him I was taking the two weeks after Christmas off, and I booked my own flights to New Zealand. I didn’t even mention the vacation could become permanent. It all depended on what happened with Amelia.
First, I had to find her. I had tried sending flowers to her last home address there, but was told the recipient no longer lived there. I had no idea what I was going to do yet, but I wasn’t giving up.
I lift my head right as York walks past my table. A few of our colleagues have noticed the iciness between us, a few have speculated, but neither of us have spoken about the incident to anyone. A few curious eyes flick to him while he walks past but he keeps going, coat in hand. York never leaves the Big 10 party this early. I slam the last swallow of the champagne, wincing slightly as the bubbles burn going down my throat, suspicion dancing in my gut. I follow York.
After grabbing my coat, I step outside right as he’s getting into a cab. My driver is waiting so I slide in. “Follow that taxi.” He nods and we jump out into traffic. I know where we’re going the second we take the exit; the airport, and my stomach clenches. He’s going to see Amelia. I check my watch knowing I’ll be almost four hours early for my flight.
Like a stalker, I watch as York goes into the airport. I’m a few people behind him in line through security, purposefully hanging back, and when he walks towards the same gate as mine I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s still in New Zealand. I head to the bar nearest the gate and grab a drink. After a few sips of the cold beer I take my phone out and do the one thing we promised never to do unless it was an emergency, as in an ‘I’ve been kidnapped’ emergency…I turn on the security app that will track York’s phone and GPS location. He’ll probably kill me if he ever finds out.
When our flight starts to board, I manage to sneak in line a few people behind him. Close enough that when he picks up a phone call, I hear everything.
“Hey. Yeah, the plane is boarding now so I’ll be there in about eight hours. Direct flight. No, don’t worry about it, I’ll grab a cab. I’ll be fine. I have your address saved already. I’m looking forward to it too, Mi. I can’t wait to meet Asher.”
My heart stops. Who the fuck is Asher? Why is York meeting him at Christmas with Amelia? Everything hurts, dread creeps through my veins. I hurt her. I pushed her away a final time, and someone else swooped in. There is a real possibility I’m going to get there today and another man will be with her. Are they dating? Is it serious? The blood drains from my face. I fucked up. It really hits me for the first time that I might have lost Amelia.
“Thank you for flying with us. We hope you enjoyed your flight! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!”
I grunt when the flight attendant is done making her speech. My eyes burn, and I really just want to sleep, but I can’t. I spent the entire eight hour flight, my mind going crazy, trying to figure out what I was going to do when I landed. I had York’s location, so I could find them. I knew there was a possibility I would be ruining Amelia’s holiday with a new boyfriend. I didn’t care though. I made up my mind and there was no going back. Amelia and I were meant to be together. I let my pride, and my grandfather’s memory, rule my decisions one too many times. I couldn’t do it again. I trusted Amelia. I knew deep down in my soul she couldn’t have done those things, but I was stupid, and scared of being betrayed by the people I loved. I knew believing the evidence Carrigan showed me would be the one thing that hurt Amelia the most, and at the time I had wanted to hurt her for hurting me. It was immature, and Carrigan means nothing to me. She hasn’t in a very long time. Even during the investigation, I never spent time with Carrigan, or thought about dating her. I went to work and home, day after day, while my heart shriveled and died.
I wait until the plane is empty before getting out of my seat, clearing customs and grabbing my bags. York and I do not run into each other, but the app is working. I’m notified the minute he starts moving more than ten miles per hour. I wait until his location stops and request the address. Amelia moved across the city from her previous house.
Despite feeling exhausted, I need to get to Amelia. I manage to get a cab, and as we get closer and closer to her house, adrenaline spikes in my veins. I don’t care who’s at her house, or about the guy she might be dating. I need her in my arms. I’ll prove to her that I’m sorry, and do whatever it takes to bind her to me for the rest of her life.
The cab slows down in front of her new house. Its bigger than the last and sits in an actual neighborhood. Christmas lights decorate the peaks of the roof and wrap around some tree branches in the yard. I can see from the road that she has a decorated tree, and a wreath hangs on her front door. I can’t help smiling even though there is a pang of pain in my heart. Everything about this home screams Amelia. Taking a deep breath, I let my determination set in and head for the door. My hand doesn’t falter when I knock and ring the doorbell.
“Coming,” I hear a masculine voice that I recognize as York.
Squaring my shoulders I meet my best friend’s shocked gaze with my own. I smirk, “Merry Christmas.” I shove past him and into the front entryway. The house smells like cookies, and Christmas carols are playing on the TV.
“Who was it?” Amelia turns the corner, stopping when her eyes land on me, her lips parting in surprise.
I take in everything about her, from the pink messy-bun on her head, to her leggings and oversized sweatshirt, to the Christmas socks on her feet. She looks beautiful, delicate, like home, like mine. “Amelia…” I take a step towards her, and watch as her ocean colored eyes flash.
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” I take another step. Panic laces her features. I feel anger in my gut. There really must be another man here. York hasn’t moved from the door, but his phone is out. He probably figured out I used the app. None of it matters though.
“We have nothing to talk about,” Amelia seethes, everything about her fiery, and on edge.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, finally stepping into her space. Her body is too shocked to move except her head tilting back. My chest bumps into her arms that are crossed against her chest. She smells like cranberry, cinnamon, and a hint of something I can’t name, but it makes my heart ache.
“That won’t work this time,” Her words are hollow, her eyes misty.
I cup her face with my hands, and she tries to pull back, “I love you.”
Everything goes still. Amelia stops fighting, a look of devastation on her face. I can feel my gut sinking while my heart wills for it not to be true. She didn’t move on. She isn’t leaving me. I can fix this.
“Mia,” York says tentatively.
“I know,” She chokes up and glances at her brother before bringing her eyes back to mine. I watch her visibly swallow, her mouth opens and closes. I’m about to tell her I don’t care if she thinks she’s found someone else. He can fucking leave, and we can work through our shit. It’s in that exact moment a very distinct cry comes from further in the house. Amelia steps out of my hold. and this time I let her. Her eyes are conflicted, sad, and slightly angry before she says, “Your son is awake.” And those four words almost take me to my knees.
