Page 48 of Christmas With My Ex

I start walking again, this time heading back toward the resort. I pick up my face. Suddenly I need to get back to her as soon as I can.

The snow crunches beneath me, each step a reminder that I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what’s been done. But I can choose how to move forward.

My emotions are a tangled mess—anger, hurt, confusion, despair—but I know one thing: I don’t want to lose her again. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.

I just hope she’s still there when I get back.

11:31am

When I pushthe door open to my room, I immediately know something’s wrong. It’s quiet—too quiet. The bed is made, and the tray from breakfast is still there, untouched. My heart sinks.

She’s gone.

Panic hits me like a freight train. I left her alone, with all of that hanging in the air, and now she’s gone. What was I thinking?

I whirl around, sprinting for the door, my mind racing. I need to find her, need to fix this. I can’t lose her again, not like this. My hand slams against the elevator button, but when I glance at the display, it’s stuck several floors above me, not moving.

Damn it.

I turn and head for the stairs, taking them two at a time, my legs burning as I fly down three flights to the fourth floor. Her floor. When I reach her door, I barely pause to catch my breath before knocking.

Nothing.

I knock again, harder this time, my heart pounding in my chest. "Rives," I call through the door, hoping, praying she’s inside.

There’s a long moment of silence, and then, finally, the door creaks open. She stands there, her eyes red-rimmed, face pale. My chest tightens at the sight of her, and before she can say anything, I pull her into my arms.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry I left. Then and now.”

Her arms wrap around me hesitantly, but then she squeezes me tight, her face pressed against my chest. For a moment, we just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of everything still hanging between us, but it’s different now. I feel it in the way she holds me.

“I panicked,” I admit softly, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do, but... I don’t want to leave things like this. I don’t want to leave you.”

She looks up at me, her expression softening, though her eyes are still full of uncertainty. “It’s okay, Nicholas. You were in shock. I get it.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have left you like that. Not after what you told me.”

She sighs, her fingers tracing the fabric of my shirt. “You came back. That’s what matters.”

I reach up, cupping her face gently, my thumb brushing her cheek. “I want to talk about it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want to understand. Will you... will you talk to me?”

Her eyes search mine for a long moment, and then she nods. “Of course.”

She steps aside, letting me into the room. The door closes softly behind us as we sit down together on the edge of the bed. The tension still lingers in the air, but it’s different now—quieter, softer.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I don’t know where to start.”

“You can ask me anything,” she says quietly, her hands folded in her lap. “I’ll tell you everything.”

I pause, my thoughts spinning. The questions I had earlier flood my mind—how could she not tell me, why didn’t she try harder to reach me—but they feel... different now. Less important. What matters is that she was hurting, and I wasn’t there. What matters is that we both lost something, and neither of us realized how much it would change us.

“You tried to call me,” I say, my voice tight. “And I didn’t answer.”

She nods, her eyes filling with sadness. “I called you more than once. But you didn’t call back.”

I close my eyes for a second, the guilt hitting me hard. I remember those calls. I remember seeing her name on my phone, but I was too consumed with my own mess to pick up. I thought we were done, and I couldn’t deal with anything more.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I should’ve been there. For you. For him.”

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