Page 2 of Her Holiday Arrangement
“I’m managing,” she said finally, voice tight. “The holidays are… complicated.”
Riley smiled faintly, the kind of smile that held both sympathy and something more, a quiet hope. “Well, if you need a break from complicated, I’m pretty good at making chaos manageable.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved upward, ever so slightly.
The two women stood for a moment, a fragile connection threading through the crisp air between them. A world apart in every way, yet inexplicably drawn together.
Then the clock ticked on, reminders of appointments and expectations pulling Elizabeth back into her perfect, polished world.
“Riley, thank you. For everything.”
Riley nodded, gathering her bags again. “Anytime. And Elizabeth? Maybe don’t delete all your texts next time.”
Elizabeth’s smile deepened, just a flicker, but enough.
“Noted.”
As the door closed behind Riley, Elizabeth returned to her desk, fingers poised once more over the keyboard, but her mind lingered on the breathless whirlwind who just left. The one messy, chaotic thing she hadn’t quite figured out how to control.
And maybe, she thought, that was okay.
The chime of the private elevator was like a thunderclap in the stillness of the penthouse.
Elizabeth didn’t turn. She stood at the window, arms folded, posture sharp as the skyline beyond the glass. She knew that sound. No one but Sophia used that elevator.
Behind her, Riley froze mid-step on her way to the door, arms full of paperwork she hadn’t quite managed to organize. She looked toward Elizabeth for instruction, but Elizabeth said nothing.
The elevator doors slid open with a whisper of money and privilege. Sophia stepped out like she was descending a runway, ankle boots clicking, winter-white coat draped over her shoulders, long hair impossibly glossy under the soft light of the penthouse.
“Liz,” Sophia sang, her voice just slightly too loud, too practiced. “We need to talk.”
Elizabeth’s jaw tensed. “Sophia.”
The name landed like a gavel, sharp in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Riley shrink back, edging closer to one of the marble columns by the entryway as though proximity to the architecture might shield her. Elizabeth felt a twist of irritation, not at Riley, but at Sophia, who could make anyone in a room feel small with barely a glance.
Sophia flicked her eyes toward Riley, a dismissive sweep that lasted no more than a heartbeat. Her attention snapped back to Elizabeth, bright and focused. She hadn’t come for Riley. She was here for an audience of one.
“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” Elizabeth said, finally turning to face her. Her voice was smooth, utterly composed. “Is something wrong?”
Sophia blinked with mock innocence. “Is that really the question you want to lead with?”
Elizabeth crossed to the edge of the room, steps slow, measured. “You’re three days early. I assumed I’d see you in Vermont.”
Sophia let out a breathy, theatrical sigh. “See, that’s the thing. I’m not going to Vermont.”
A pause.
Riley’s breath hitched, the sound startling in the heavy silence. The quiet stretched, so taut it made Elizabeth’s jaw ache, like the pressure of a storm about to break.
Elizabeth didn’t flinch. “You’re not.”
“No,” Sophia said, loosening her coat and tossing it over the back of a $4,000 leather chair. “I can’t do it this year. I can’t spend another holiday pretending everything’s perfect when it’s not. I won’t freeze to death at your mother’s snow palace while making small talk with people who think I’m your accessory.”
Elizabeth blinked once, slowly. “So this is about my family.”
“It’s aboutyou,” Sophia snapped, all pretense of calm now gone. “It’s about how you don’t let anyone in. You don’t touch me unless we’re at some function where PDA is required. You treat our relationship like a PR strategy. You talk to your assistant more than you talk to me.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked briefly toward Riley, who stood motionless, every part of her screaming to vanish into the marble.
