Page 26 of The Crush of Christmas Past
Initially, work provided the perfect excuse to keep to myself. Starting a marketing firm with two ex-AdCraft colleagues only raised the stakes. Ruthless clients and sleepless nights. Constantpressure to keep employees happy in an industry that eats people for sport. We left a cesspool to build something better. Which means bleeding for it. Every damn day.
There’s barely been room for anything—or anyone—else.
But the truth runs deeper than deals and deadlines. My real reason for keeping my distance has always been Isla. She loves my family. Making myself scarce so she could have a holiday that feels even a little like home wasn’t some noble sacrifice. It was instinct. She deserves lights, laughter—all the fucking love in the world. None of which are words she associates with me. Therefore, I kept away for the sake of her peace.
So why risk fucking with the status quo this year?
Her absence in my life has turned terminal. Not hearing about her dreams, not knowing if she’s happy—it became an illness that kept spreading. Forcing details out of Asher during our weekly lunches stopped being enough months ago. I couldn’t do it anymore. Refused to keep pretending I didn’t miss her like hell.
A fuckload of therapy—hours spent confronting my patterns, my fears, my need for control—convinced me I may finally be morewholethanasshole. The plan was to lay it all out. Confess my feelings. Plead for a chance to prove the past wrong.
Selfish, I know.
That’s why the agony of watching her smile at someone else serves me right.
“You good?” Asher’s voice snaps me back into my body.
At some point over the last few minutes, he’s moved from the hot tub to the firepit.
“Fine.” My reply is too quick.
“You’re an even worse liar than Isla.” He jabs the flames with a stick, sending embers into the night sky. “How the hell haveyou made it so far in your career? Doesn’t the art of advertising thrive on deception?”
I ignore his taunt. “You stood Isla up at the fair.”
He nods. “I did.”
“That was a shitty move. You promised her a date.” As much as the words burn my tongue, he needs to hear them.
“Was she heartbroken?” he asks, arching a brow.
“She—” Isla was completely at ease walking hand-in-hand with my niece, riding the carousel on a loop until Jovie threatened to vomit, and buying some last-minute gifts for her friends.
No. She wasn’t hurt. In fact, she hadn’t seemed to miss her boyfriend at all.
“Admit it. You were happy to have her all to yourself.”
I open my mouth to speak, but there’s no point in lying to either of us.
Asher knows. He’salwaysknown.
“The Johnsons’ shoot ran overtime, I assume? Your text was vague.”
“I…” All trace of mirth vanishes from his face as he exhales a deep, labored breath. “Sienna needed me.”
I lean forward in my chair, frowning in disbelief. “Repeat that? I must’ve misheard.”
“Look, I didn’t plan on going to her.” Asher takes his time meeting my gaze. His tender expression only serves to further piss me off. “But she needed me. Myhelp, I mean.”
“What the fuck, Ash?” Without thinking, I spring to my feet and stalk over to him, fists clenching at my sides. “You left Isla for your ex?”
“Quit faking morals. You were happy I bailed. You didn’t want me there. Admit it.”
I come to a stop right in front of him, so close we’re practically nose-to-forehead. “What I want has nothing to do with how you should treat your girlfriend!”
Asher looks up and chuckles. “Not even when you’re the one who dreams of doing thetreating?”
I lunge, gripping the front of his jacket with one hand. “Did you fuck around on her?”
