Page 21 of Curvy Girl for Santa

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the empty room, imagining Anastasia's warm smile. "I'm so fucking sorry."

The clock ticks past midnight. Christmas Eve.

I'm alone in my penthouse, surrounded by opulent holiday decorations that suddenly feel hollow. The twinkling lights mock me, reminding me of the spark in Anastasia's eyes when she talked about her charity work.

"Merry fucking Christmas," I mutter, pouring another whiskey. The amber liquid burns, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

I slump onto the leather couch, staring at the massive Christmas tree. It's perfect, professionally decorated. Anastasia would hate it. She'd want something homemade, personal. Probably covered in ornaments made by local kids.

God, I can picture her so clearly. Bundled up in one of those soft sweaters she loves, a bright scarf around her neck. Cheeks flushed from the cold as she hangs stockings for the less fortunate.

"You don't deserve her," I growl at myself.

The whiskey glass shatters against the wall. I'm on my feet, pacing again. My fists clench and unclench.

"But I need her."

The admission tears from my throat. Raw. Primal.

I slam my fist into the wall. Pain explodes through my hand, but it's nothing compared to the agony of losing her. I punch again. And again. Drywall crumbles.

"Anastasia," I pant, forehead pressed against the ruined wall.

Blood drips from my knuckles. I welcome the pain. It's better than the emptiness.

ten

?. . .?

Anastasia

I stareinto the crackling fire, my mind swirling with thoughts of Ryan. Maggie's voice breaks through my reverie.

"Anastasia, honey, you've been a million miles away all evening. What's going on?"

I turn to face my friend, curled up on the other end of the couch. Her concerned eyes search my face.

"It's Ryan," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stop thinking about him."

"The mysterious hottie who turned out to be a billionaire?" Maggie raises an eyebrow.

I nod, twisting my hands in my lap. I googled Ryan. He’s known for being cutthroat, ruthless. A lot of people fear him. A lot of people hate him.

But that’s not the man I know.

"Finding out about his wealth shocked me at first. But the more I think about it, the more I realize it doesn't change who he is—the man I fell for."

"And who exactly is that man?" Maggie prompts gently.

Images of Ryan flash through my mind—his piercing blue eyes crinkling as he laughs, his strong hands tenderly wrapping gifts for the children's charity drive, the way he looks at me like I'm the only woman in the world.

"He's kind," I say softly. "Thoughtful. Passionate about helping others. When I'm with him, I feel seen in a way I never have before."

My chest tightens as the truth hits me full force. "Oh god, Maggie. I still love him. I love him so much it hurts."

“Then maybe you should tell him that,” Maggie says gently.

I nod. Maggie gives me a long hug before she finally leaves me to my solitude.

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