Page 83 of Scrooge

“But we saw the way she looked at you. I see the way you look at her,” Wendy says, a soft smile on her face like only a mother can give.

“The agreement you two had together might have made a fake relationship, but what I see now is true love,” John says without an ounce of hesitation, and I take in a breath. I should’ve known that they would see straight through us. Probably knew the moment that Haylee introduced me.

“I love your daughter. I would do anything for her,” I tell them, feeling vulnerable and now not worthy of their support. But I want them to understand exactly how I feel and that I will protect and cherish their daughter until the end of time.

“We know. We can see it. And she loves you,” Wendy says softly.

“I have a few things to fix up,” I say, knowing I need to make everything right. I need to get Logan, I need to sort out the toy store lease, and I need to hug my girl tighter than ever. “With your permission…” I start before clearing my throat. “I would like to ask her to marry me. For real.”

“You have our permission, and we know you will do what's right,” John says and looks at me proudly. I know without a doubt that I will never let her parents down.

With their supportive smiles and reassurances, an idea spawns in my mind. Along with their help, I come up with a new plan for Tucker Toys, one that I will implement starting tonight.

* * *

It has been two days,four hours, seventeen minutes, and approximately four seconds since I brought Haylee home from the hospital, and about three hours since I last saw her. But it feels like a lifetime, and I don’t like it, not one bit.

“I rather like you in that suit,” Laurent says as we walk into the Jackson Enterprises holiday party in Central Park. I know she is already here. She and her family are in the North Pole tent, giving out toys to the kids, many of whom I see running around, high on sugar, playing in the snow. She only stayed in the hospital overnight, her injuries minor apart from a few grazes and a small concussion. Although I would still prefer her to be resting, not here giving out toys.

“Is she alright?” I ask him, only one thing on my mind.

“She is fine. Having a great time with her family,” he says, and I nod. I know that too. I paid for her medical needs and hospital stay and have spoken to her mom, dad, and sister daily. Jillian was a little harder to convince of my love than her parents, but she eventually came around.

“We will do the press conference, and then you can go see her,” he tells me as we walk over to a small podium he has set up, the media all sitting in front of the small stage. I knew he had organized this, wanting to promote this event as much as possible. I have gone over and over my speech and my plans for the past few hours, while Haylee came here to help her family. I am ready.

“Staff are ecstatic. I can confirm that applications for the next quarter are up by fifty percent. We have resumes coming in thick and fast. This event, along with your media presence over the last couple of months, has done exactly what we needed it to do,” Sheridan says, joining us as we continue our walk over to the media. I glance toward the Santa tent again. Haylee’s dad looks like the real deal in his red suit and white hair. Her mom is dressed as Mrs. Claus sitting by his side, while Jillian and Haylee are dressed as elves, handing out gifts, ensuring the line moves so everyone gets equal time with Santa.

I watch her in awe from where I am, ignoring Sheridan’s statement. My mind isn’t on work, even though this is a work event. I have been on edge for days. She tried to fall on her sword for me. Haylee tried to give us up to try to save me, my business, and my profile from Logan’s threat. I know it all now. My team gathered him up the minute I ran after Haylee back at the bar and we got it all out of him. She is just like her father. Putting other people ahead of herself.

In his drunken state, Logan admitted to blackmailing her. Telling her to leave me, otherwise he would out our agreement for all the media to hear. So I did what I promised myself I would do, and I ended him. He is still alive, but his life in New York is over. I bankrupted his law firm. I emptied his bank accounts. I slandered his name far and wide so that no one will ever hire him, and no one will believe a word that comes from his mouth again. Luckily, the media saw me with Haylee on the street that night, so they know what we have is real.

She loves me. I know she does. She was ready to let go of the toy store, to let go of me just to save my reputation. She didn’t want money; she didn’t ask for anything. The ring on her finger, the painting from Maddison Miller, the Christmas tree, everything I got for her, she never once asked for. I chance another look over at the Santa tent and see her handing out a toy, catching a glimpse of the sparkle that still sits on her finger. My heart swells at the fact that she hasn’t taken the ring off.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Alexander is happy to answer a few questions now,” Laurent says into the microphone, and the media settle in. I shake his hand and step forward.

“Alexander, can you tell us about today?” a journalist yells out, and I clear my throat.

“Today is really about giving back. Christmas can be a hard time of the year for many, so we wanted to provide a day to see joy in the kids’ faces, where everyone can have a bit of fun, throw a snowball or two, connect with their friends and their colleagues and pick up a little something from Santa while they are here,” I say, looking over at the Santa tent again, seeing everyone there now listening to me. Haylee’s eyes connect with mine, and I smile.

“It is also about community.” My eyes stay on her. “Someone once told me that I buy places with heart and soul, then just knock them down,” I say, and Haylee’s mouth opens in surprise. “I have been thinking about that statement for a while.” My eyes flick to Haylee’s dad, then back to her. “So now, here at the Jackson Enterprises holiday party, I would like to announce that I, along with my beautiful fiancée, have started the new Jackson Foundation. A foundation that will begin with a vision of helping and preserving the heart and soul of the city. The first injection of funds will be earmarked for homelessness, helping those in New York who can no longer help themselves. We have secured a property in Brooklyn that will be renovated to become a new shelter. This shelter is called Haylee’s Home and will cater to women who don’t feel safe on the streets.” Clearing my throat, I watch Haylee wipe a tear from her cheek. “There are also three more properties penciled in over the next twelve months from Queens, through to Midtown, and in the Meatpacking District.

“The foundation will then also aim to help children. We have the fabulous team here today from Tucker Toys, my beautiful fiancée, of course, and her family,” I say, not able to help the smile as the crowd whoops and cheers, and I feel even better when I see Haylee smiling, her cheeks pinkening with a flush. “Having not been around children for much of my life, I hadn’t before seen the need to support kids, but witnessing the love in the Tucker family, and how much they give to children, our new foundation will be starting a program called Tucker Teens. One that will provide employment and internships, career building, school supplies, and tutoring in order to help kids thrive in this fast-paced world we all live in,” I state, looking at Sheridan, knowing her two boys will be the first two in our tutor program right after Christmas.

“I am now happy to take any questions you all may have.” I look back to the media, and they don’t wait but a second.

“Alexander. How does it feel to be in love?” someone shouts, and a few people laugh. Laurent steps forward, but I put up my hand to stop him. This is a question I am proud to answer.

“It is, without a doubt, the most wonderful feeling in the world,” I say softly, looking right at Haylee.

“When is the wedding?” a journalist shouts, and I smile.

“We have yet to set a date,” I say, and her lips quirk. I can’t wait to kiss them.

“What about the rumors of you seeing a prostitute in the shelters on Thanksgiving?” someone asks, and I was ready for this. Those rumors are few and far between, but they are still circulating.

“That’s Deloris. You can find her helping at the soup station over on your right. Deloris has been homeless for many years, a friend of my fiancée’s. She needed a helping hand that I was pleased I could offer,” I say and see Haylee’s head whip around so fast it almost falls off. She spots Deloris waving a ladle in the air.

“Thanks for the bag of—” she yells before Laurent grabs the microphone to cut her off.

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