“I should probably check on the vendor booths,” Holly said after Bernie wandered off to photograph the craft demonstrations. “Make sure everything’s running smoothly.”
“Right,” I said, though what I was thinking was that we needed to talk about what had just happened on stage, and what was happening between us, and whether I was brave enough to choose her over everything else.
But what about her? What were her plans? Was I even a consideration? I had to grow a pair and confront this before I lost my mind entirely.
I would be walking away from the partnership track at one of the most prestigious firms in New York. I would be walking away from financial security, professional recognition, and everything I’d thought I wanted since high school.
What I would be walking toward was less clear, but it felt more real than anything I’d experienced in years. I clutched my chest and jumped when Holly asked, “Everything okay?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “They want an answer, and I don’t know what to tell them.”
“They…?” she asked, but she knew. It was written all over her face.
“Whether I’m coming back to New York.”
The words hung between us like a question neither of us was ready to answer directly.
“What do you want to do?” Holly asked quietly.
What I wanted to do was tell her that I was falling in love with her and that New York felt like another planet compared to the life I could imagine here. What I wanted to do was kiss her right here in the snow and tell her that she was more important than any career.
“I want...” I started, then realized we were having this conversation in public, surrounded by people who were definitely paying attention to our obviously intense discussion.
“We should probably talk about this somewhere more private,” Holly said, apparently reaching the same conclusion.
“The storage room in the community center?” I suggested. “It should be empty right now.”
Holly nodded, and we made our way through the festival crowd toward the community center, trying to look like we were engaged in normal festival coordination rather than heading off to have a life-altering conversation about our future.
The storage room was completely private, which was exactly what we needed.
“So,” Holly said, closing the door behind us and turning to face me in the dim light from the bare bulb. “New York.”
“New York,” I agreed, though the word felt strange in my mouth, like I was talking about a place I’d visited once rather than where I’d lived for most of my adult life.
“Are you going back?”
The question was simple, but the way she asked it suggested that my answer was going to affect more than just my career plans.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Two weeks ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. But now...”
“Now?”
“Now I’m not sure I want the life I thought I wanted,” I said, stepping closer to her in the small space. “I’m not sure I want to be the person I was before I came back here.”
Holly looked up at me with the kind of expression that suggested she understood exactly what I meant, because she was going through her own version of the same crisis.
“What kind of person do you want to be?” she asked softly.
“The kind who’s brave enough to choose happiness over security,” I said, reaching up to touch her face. “The kind who doesn’t let fear make his decisions for him.”
“Declan...” she started, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the way I was looking at her, and suddenly we weren’t talking anymore.
I kissed her, and she kissed me back with the kind of desperate intensity that suggested we’d both been thinking about this since our performance on stage. It was urgent, necessary, like we were trying to communicate everything we couldn’t say out loud.
“We shouldn’t,” Holly whispered against my mouth, though her hands were already sliding under my coat, pulling me closer.
“Probably not,” I agreed, though I was already backing her against the wall, my hands tangling in her hair. “Anyone could walk in.”
