Which was great for the festival, but terrible for my ability to maintain emotional equilibrium, especially after last night’s dinner with the Winters family had made me feel more at home than I’d felt anywhere in years.
I was standing in the town square at ten in the morning, watching volunteers set up for day two of festivities, when my phone buzzed with the kind of insistent vibration that usually meant someone in New York was about to ruin my day.
Richard.
Stepping away from the main festival area toward the relative privacy of the town hall steps, I didn’t even bother withpleasantries. “We talked about this. I said I’d give you an answer after the holidays.”
“The holidays are a luxury we can’t afford,” Richard said with the tone of someone who considered vacation time a character flaw. “I need my best associates available immediately, which means I need to know if you’re coming back or if I need to replace you.”
Replace me. The words hit like a punch to the stomach, though they shouldn’t have surprised me. Corporate law clearly wasn’t known for its patience with sabbaticals or personal reflection time.
“I understand the timeline pressure,” I said carefully, “but?—”
“Declan, let me be clear,” Richard interrupted. “This isn’t a negotiation. If you’re not back in the office by January second, ready to dive back in, I’ll assume you’ve chosen to pursue other opportunities. Permanently.”
January second. Which gave me eleven days to decide between the career I’d spent years building and whatever was happening here in Everdale Falls. Eleven days to choose between professional success and personal happiness.
“I need to think about this,” I said, though what I was really thinking was that my chest felt tight and my breathing was getting shallow in the way that usually preceded a full-scale panic attack.
“You’ve had weeks to think about it,” Richard said with obvious impatience. “I need an answer by five PM today, or I start making calls to replace you. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” I managed, ending the call and immediately leaning against the town hall railing as my heart rate spiked into cardiac arrest territory.
Five PM today. Which meant I had approximately seven hours to decide whether to abandon everything I’d worked for in New York or abandon everything that was making me happyin Vermont. Including Holly, who was currently standing behind me in the snow with a coffee tray and the kind of fake, bright smile that made my chest tighten for entirely different reasons.
“Morning,” she said cheerfully, offering me a steaming cup. “You look like you could use caffeine.”
“Thanks,” I said, accepting the coffee and trying to keep my hands from shaking in a way that would broadcast my emotional state to anyone within a fifty-foot radius.
“Everything okay?” Holly asked, studying my face with the kind of perceptive attention that suggested she’d noticed my distress. “You look a little pale.”
“Fine,” I said automatically, then realized she’d probably overheard at least part of my conversation. “Just work stuff. Nothing important.”
“Declan,” Holly said gently, setting down her coffee tray and moving closer with the kind of careful approach usually reserved for spooked animals, “if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”
If something’s wrong. The problem was that everything was wrong, or maybe everything was right, and I couldn’t figure out which was more terrifying.
“They want me back,” I said finally, the words coming out in a rush before I could stop them. “They want me back in New York by January second, or they’re replacing me.”
Holly went very still, and I watched her face cycle through several emotions—surprise, understanding, and something that might have been disappointment or fear.
“That’s... soon,” she said quietly.
“Very soon,” I agreed, trying to gauge her reaction. “Too soon, maybe.”
“Too soon for what?”
For falling completely in love with you, I thought but didn’t say. For figuring out if what’s happening between us is real orjust holiday magic. For deciding if I’m brave enough to choose happiness over security.
“Too soon to make a decision that big,” I said instead, which was true but not the whole truth.
Before Holly could respond, Matt appeared with the kind of perfect timing that suggested he’d been monitoring our conversation from a distance.
“Morning, you two,” he said cheerfully, though his eyes immediately went to our faces with obvious concern. “Everything okay? You both look like someone just told you Christmas was canceled.”
“Everything’s fine,” Holly said quickly, which was becoming our standard response to people who noticed we were acting like emotional disasters.
“Right,” Matt said with obvious skepticism. “Fine. Which is why you’re both standing here looking like you’re at a funeral instead of a Christmas festival.”
