Page 58 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

His eyes hardened. “My grandma isn’t like that.” But his face softened quickly. “I don’t know why. They can be pretty formidable when they’re together. I … well, I should’ve questioned it, I guess. I am sorry.”

My tone was bitter, and my throat felt like bile. “Yeah, you should’ve.”

“Please, Mariana. Forgive me. I am truly sorry.”

The pleading look in his eyes gave me pause. “Terry, I can’t—”

“Please. I know we can work past this. I just … I love you.”

And I lost all ability to think. My vision blurred as a fresh round of tears filled my eyes, and my lip shook as I tried to answer, “Terry … I don’t know …”

He came to me then and gently wiped my tears with his thumbs. “Please.”

I sniffled and then nodded. “I can forgive you. That’s not … that’s not the issue.”

He kissed me softly and then led me back to the couch so we could sit side by side. “Then what is it?”

“I mean, isn’t it obvious? Our goals are in direct conflict.”

He tilted his head in question. “I want to be with you. I think you want to be with me. Same goals.” He offered a small smile as he squeezed my hand.

My eyes flickered with annoyance. “Business goals, Terry. Life goals? I mean, I have other goals in life besides romance. I mean, romance wasn’t even a goal at all for me until tonight.”

“Business … right.” He let go of my hands slowly and scratched the side of his face, which was a bit stubbly. “We wouldn’t let that come between us though, right? I wouldn’t.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “How can you say that? We already have! It’s already come between us. Itisbetween us. We both want the same thing, and we can’t both have it.”

The corners of his mouth turned sharply downward as he leaned back against the couch. He sighed heavily. “I didn’t know … it’sthatimportant to you?”

My lips were pressed in a thin line. “It’s important to me. Surely you don’t expect me to just give up all my life goals for you?” His brow furrowed, but before he could respond, I added, “Are you planning to give yours up for me?”

He stared into the fireplace, his lips firmly shut. Finally, he looked at me with such pain that I flinched. “I see your point. I would not want you to give up your dreams.”

I forced myself to nod, even though I wanted to disagree and say I was wrong, that we must find a way, that love can always find a way. But he was right. We had to be mature adults about this. We wanted different things. Well, to be more precise, we wanted the same thing, but only one of us could have it.

It could only end in heartbreak.

AndthatI can’t do. Not again.

“I won’t survive a painful breakup when this all blows up,” I said, fighting back tears. I took a steadying breath. “Once was too many times for me.”

He just sat there, slumped on the touch, nodding slowly. He didn’t look at me, even when I stood up.

“I’m, uh, just going to get my things. I’ll call an Uber, OK?”

He turned toward me then, not getting up from the couch. “I can drive you,” he said, sounding dazed.

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s best … you stay and I go.”

He simply nodded and looked in the other direction as I moved behind the couch to grab some things I’d left there.

“Terry, thank you for all this. I’m … so sorry this can’t work out.” Before he could respond, I fled from the room, grabbing my coat and boots and flying out the front door as fast as possible. I got out my phone to get the Uber, shivering and feeling grateful he had a covered front porch at least. I didn’t trust myself to wait inside for his response. He’d make me stay, and it would hardly take anything to convince me. I needed to be strong. I couldn’t be with him, even if every piece of my heart screamed at me to go back, to find a way to make it work. My head told me no. The voice of reason, calm, logic. The one that had steered me right all these years. My brain would help me get over him, once again. My heart could not be trusted.

Chapter 17

Isaw her walk over—OK, more like strut—to the front desk just as I’d finished downing another huge bottle of water. I’d cried for hours when I got home, and I was hoping the massive quantities of water would combat the dehydrated puffy eye look I was sporting. But I forgot about that the moment I spotted this vile woman.

She was smirking at my new front desk clerk, who looked overwhelmed at the check-in computer. I grabbed a tube of lipstick from my pocket, applied some (it’s a power move, don’t ask), and walked over. “Can I be of assistance?”

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