Page 45 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“Leave your brother alone,” Mom scolds as she brings over another tray to the kitchen table.

While everyone is caught up in conversation, my dad tries to sneak a fresh cookie, only for my mom to swat his hand away as she walks over with more cookies.

“What was that for?” He scowls.

“You’ve eaten three cookies and haven’t decorated a single one. At this rate, there won’t be enough to give to the neighbors.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Someone has to make sure every batch is safe for consumption. It’s a tough job, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”

Mom sighs, shaking her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

Dad winds his arm around her waist, guiding her head down for a kiss. They might tease each other, but their love is undeniable. When Dad was still running Stafford Holdings and had a hectic work schedule, he always found ways to show Mom how much he cared—bouquets of flowers from the local farmers’ market, weekly Saturday date nights, and love notes tucked under her pillow.

He stayed at Stafford Holdings longer than he wanted to, but he was concerned about leaving me to shoulder all the responsibility. Since retiring, he and my mom have been able to travel, attend cooking classes, and spend time working in the garden, filling their days making new memories and making up for lost moments. It’s made all the late nights and sacrifices worth it to see them finally enjoy the freedom they’ve earned.

“Eww,” Lola shouts, wrinkling her nose. “Kissing is gross.”

Laughter erupts around the room. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ladybug.” I wink.

“Careful, Harrison,” Cash interjects. “You might change your tune when you meet the right person and can’t keep your hands off her.”

Fallon’s face flashes in my mind, uninvited. Her blonde hair tangled in a messy bun, her lips curving into a half-smile whenshe’s giving me sass, and her bright eyes lighting up when she’s making one of her favorite dishes.

Though I’ve sent her a few texts, I’ve purposely avoided checking the cameras in my apartment. I turned off the notifications before I left, not wanting to give in to the temptation to watch her while she works in the kitchen.

The guilt persists, weighing on me as I can’t stop thinking of her alone for the holidays. Even though she’s busy catering events in the city, she’ll be home at night. It strikes me that there are no decorations or a Christmas tree at the penthouse. I never bother since I’m usually in Aspen Grove and prefer a clutter-free space. I hadn’t considered that Fallon might want a more festive atmosphere.

Before I can change my mind, I send an email to Cabrina, instructing her to have a tree delivered to my penthouse and to hire someone to decorate it. Mom would probably disown me if she found out I skipped putting up a tree, so this is the practical solution. It’s not about wanting Fallon to be happy or making her feel at home for the holidays. That’s the excuse I’m running with anyway.

Istifle a yawn as I approach the apartment building. The event at the gallery ran late, but my client gave me a generous tip, bringing me one step closer to opening my restaurant. I’ve got a long road ahead, but at least I’m moving in the right direction, and eventually, all the early mornings and late nights will be worth it.

To my surprise, Walter is at the entrance, holding open the door with a cheerful smile.

“What are you doing here so late?” I ask.

“I’m covering for Dan so he could take his wife out to celebrate their anniversary,” Walter replies as he ushers me inside.

I nod in thanks. “That’s very kind of you.”

“I’m happy to help him out.”

“Are you still going to your friend’s for Christmas?” I ask.

Walter and Pearl never had children, and he doesn’t have family nearby. But that hasn’t stopped him from becoming a beloved fixture in the community. He spends his weekends playing chess in the park and volunteering at the homeless shelter, and I’m fortunate to be among his friends.

“Yes, in the afternoon. I’ll probably stop by the shelter in the morning to help out beforehand.” He follows me into the lobby. “How about you and Cat? Any big plans? You could always be my plus-one.”

I’m touched by his offer. The holidays are a difficult time of year, reminding me of all that I’ve lost. And I usually don’t celebrate.

My grandmother hated Christmas, calling it a commercialized sham where people feigned affection. I was scolded whenever I got swept up in the holiday spirit, and at sixteen, she even made me throw away the small tree I had bought to put on my dresser. Her reluctance to celebrate stemmed from her obsessive need for control. And losing my dad, despite their estrangement, left her so bitter that she avoided anything that could evoke emotion or connection—including me.

She tried calling again this morning, but I let it go to voicemail. True to form, she didn’t leave a message—probably annoyed that I won’t pick up.

“I appreciate the offer,” I say to Walter with a smile. “I’m actually catering a brunch in Brooklyn and a Christmas dinner on the Upper East Side, so it’ll be a busy day. There’s no predicting how Cat will meet his daily destruction quota. I have a hunch he doesn’t take holidays off.”

Walter chuckles. “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

“What’s the point of work if not to provide a little distraction,” I joke, though there is a hint of truth to my words.

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