Page 56 of His for Christmas
Before her, there were others. Beautiful women. Sophisticated. They knew the score—temporary. I gave them everything except the part of me that mattered. Alessandra. Catherine. Elise. All names that meant something once, but not anymore. Not now that I’ve seen what real connection feels like.
None of them ever looked at me the way Holly does.
Like I’m more than what I built.
Like I’m a man, not a machine.
I remember the night I lost my temper over that stupid Christmas party. I told myself I was protecting what was mine. Truth was, I was terrified. I didn’t want to lose her, so I tried to cage her.
It took me days to admit it—but now I see it clearly.
Possession isn’t love.
Control isn’t protection.
And Holly…she deserves more than a man who mistakes fear for power.
When she looks at me, I want to be better. When she smiles, the entire world gets quiet. When she whispered “I see you” last night, I swear my chest cracked open.
I love her.
Not because she’s beautiful—though she is.
Not because she’s mine—though God help me, I want her to be.
But because she made me believe there’s still something good in me to give.
And I’m done pretending that love is weakness.
A knock at the door pulls me back. Patricia steps in, all professional calm, though her eyes are softer than usual.
“The preparations are complete, sir,” she says. “Everything’s ready.”
“Eight o’clock,” I tell her. My voice sounds steady, but my pulse isn’t.
She hesitates, then says quietly, “Ms. Parker’s been good for you.”
For a second, I can’t speak. Finally, I manage, “Yes. She has.”
When she leaves, I turn back to the window. Snow falling slow now. Silent. Beautiful.
Tonight isn’t just a surprise. It’s a promise.
A promise that I’ve been paying attention. That I see her, the way she’s seen me. That this isn’t about possession or control—it’s about something I never thought I’d have again.
Hope.
And tonight, for the first time in my life, I’m going to tell her.
I’ve never told a woman I love her. Never even thought about it. Love was for other people—people who didn’t understand what it meant to lose everything. To be left behind.
I built walls instead. Kept control. Kept distance. That’s how I stayed safe. Until her.
Until Holly Parker.
The thought of saying the words out loud—of giving her something that can’t be taken back—hits me like a punch to the gut. What if she doesn’t say it back? What if she does…but leaves anyway? Everyone always leaves. My mother. My father. Every person who ever mattered.
The fear is old, sharp, familiar. But then I see her face in my mind—the way she looked at me last night. Soft eyes. Small smile. Like she saw past all the armor and still wanted what was underneath.
