"—not appropriate." That's Derek, head of maintenance. "She's young enough to be your daughter."
"She's twenty-three," Justin says, and his voice is cold. "We’re both consenting adults."
"Still looks bad. Boss and employee? Come on, Bell. You know how this plays."
"I know exactly how it plays. Which is why we're disclosing it properly through HR."
"People are already talking."
"Let them talk."
"It affects morale. People think she's getting special treatment."
"She's not." Justin's voice is firm. "She earned her position before we ever got together. Her performance reviews speak for themselves. If anyone has concerns about favoritism, they can file a formal complaint with HR."
"I'm just saying?—"
"I know what you're saying. And I'm telling you it's none of your concern. My personal life is my own business, as long as it doesn't affect my professional responsibilities. Which it won't."
There's a pause. Then Derek says, "Your grandfather would be disappointed."
The words land like a slap. I can feel the silence that follows, heavy and sharp.
When Justin speaks again, his voice is quieter. Dangerous. "My grandfather built this place on the belief that everyone deserves magic. Everyone deserves to be happy. He would have been the first person to tell me to hold onto someone who makes me happy, consequences be damned." A pause. "We're done here."
Footsteps. The sound of Derek walking away.
I wait a beat, then emerge from the storage building with the Santa suit. Justin's standing alone, shoulders tight, staring at nothing.
"Hey," I say softly.
He turns, and for a second, I see the strain on his face before he smooths it away. "Hey. You heard that?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry? You defended us."
"I know. But you shouldn't have to hear that kind of—" He stops, runs a hand through his hair. "People are going to say things. Worse things than that."
"I can handle it."
"Can you?" He steps closer, voice dropping. "Because this is just the beginning. Derek's not the only one who thinks this is inappropriate. And when HR makes it official, when people know for sure?—"
"Then they know." I set down the Santa suit, move into his space. "Justin. I don't care what people say. I care about you."
"You say that now."
"I'll say it tomorrow too. And next week. And next month." I take his hand. "You told me you don't do halfway. Neither do I. We're all in, remember?"
Some of the tension drains from his shoulders. He pulls me close, presses his forehead to mine. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
"Then don't push me away trying to protect me." I pull back, meet his eyes. "We do this together. That's the deal."
"You're right." He kisses me quickly, then steps back. "Go. Mrs. Jensen's waiting for that suit."
"Bossy."
