Page 29 of Not Like Christmas At All
I assume she understood every word because her head plops back onto the mattress before my sentence has even finished.
The click of my heels echoes through my small apartment as I finish shutting off lights and closing the open doors to spacesPebbles doesn’t need access to. Then, I lock up, ready to meet my rideshare waiting for me downstairs.
Bright lights reflect off the tall buildings that make up San Diego’s downtown, making them appear as though they are twinkling against the night sky. My driver takes me down North Harbor Drive, where I people and boat watch as we pass the bay.
When we pull up to the hotel, I thank the kind man for the ride. The lobby is bustling with activity as I quietly weave through, quickly spotting the elevators. I’m alone as I ride to the top floor.
I’m not sure what I expected this party to be like, but it certainly wasn’tthis. My jaw drops when the elevator doors slide open, revealing a decadent ballroom overlooking all of San Diego’s downtown. Everywhere I look is draped in shades of silver. It covers the window treatments, the tables, even the centerpieces. The soft, low lighting shimmers against it, giving the space a glamorous ambiance. Deep burgundy accents are scattered throughout, adding a holiday richness.
My coworkers are dressed to the nines in gorgeous dresses and smart suits—a stark contrast to the scrubs and doctor’s coats they’re typically in.
Upbeat music blends with laughter and conversation, and for a moment, I take it all in.
The atmosphere instantly lifts my spirit, and as I step further inside the room, I’m overtaken with a sense of renewed energy. This is exactly what I’ve needed after the last couple of days, and I’m so glad I made the decision to come tonight.
“Genesis.” Lincoln’s low baritone freezes me, wrapping around me like a seductive embrace. A shiver shoots through my body, but it’s met with a rush of heat low in my belly that ignites at the sound of my name on his lips.
Turning slowly, I see him take his final few steps before reaching me, hands in the pockets of his dark gray slacks. He’scoupled it with a matching gray button-down, with the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, and a dark, paisley pattern tie. It’s hard to tell what color it is in this lighting, but he looks good.
Reallygood.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” My voice sounds far raspier than it should, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from saying something stupid.
“We need to talk, and you’re avoiding me.”
“How can I be avoiding you when I haven’t seen you?” The jest comes out naturally, but this time, a hint of regret follows.
The look on Lincoln’s face is stoic. “I’ve sent you two text messages and called you, to which you have not acknowledged any of my attempts.” He takes a step closer and picks up one of my curls, playing with it. “This is different,” he murmurs.
My breathing hitches. “Bad different, or good different?”
“Just…different. You always look beautiful, Genesis.”
My heart does a traitorous flip-flop, and the air around us suddenly thickens until it’s hard to breathe. Part of me wants to walk away—to not hear him out—because the impending sting of rejection clings to me.
But the other part, the curious part, hangs on his every word, eager to listen. “What did you want to talk about?”
Lincoln glances around, gaze skimming over the ballroom full of our co-workers. “Can we go somewhere private?”
Every fiber of my being screams that this is a bad idea, but something has shifted between us. I canfeelit. The idea of being alone with him is both exhilarating and terrifying. Still, I find myself nodding.
When he offers me the crook of his arm, I take it without hesitation, letting him guide me through the throng of people around us.
Back inside the elevator, he presses the button for the rooftop, taking us up another level.
Cold December air wraps around me as the door slides open. The rooftop is quiet—we’re the only ones up here. The warmth of the heaters radiates, scattered between the abundance of seating, yet we move in silence until we reach the edge of the building.
Leaning against the railing, Lincoln’s forearms rest on the metal as he looks out toward the Coronado Bridge.
“I know I crossed the line with you while you were in the hospital,” he says quietly, not looking in my direction. “As a doctor, I apologize for my inappropriate behavior.”
“Lincoln, it’s fi—” My response slips out immediately, but he cuts me off.
“But as a man, I won’t apologize for showing you the fear I had seeing you get hurt. I’m not sorry for that, Gen. And if I’m being honest, I’m tired of pretending my feelings for you don’t exist.”
For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. Shadows from the night fall over his face, but I still see the glitter in his eye and the bashful smile upturning his lips.
“Are you serious?” I breathe, my heart pounding in disbelief. My nails dig into my palms as I try to steady myself.
