"I know." His hand tightens on my shoulder, and he kisses the side of my face. "I'll tell you everything. I wanted complete honesty from you, and I need to do the same. No more secrets."
"But not tonight." I'm so tired. "Tonight I’m just happy that we both survived this."
"We did." He presses a softer kiss to the top of my head. “And I’m grateful for that.”
Talia pulls up to the Wintervale Grand, a historic hotel that's been renovated into an elegant, discreet space. She's already arranged everything: a suite on the top floor, Delano security posted, and medical supplies delivered. I wonder if Blake can see the obvious answer to the Delano image problem because I can. Talia is the key.
"I'll be in the room next door if you need anything," she says as she helps Blake out of the car. He's moving better now, though I can see the pain in every step. "But try to rest. Both of you. The new world ahead can wait until morning."
The suite is beautiful, decorated with warm woods and soft fabrics, with a gas fireplace already lit and snow flurries falling past the windows. It should feel like a romantic, peaceful Christmas Eve. The kind I used to love as a kid. Instead, it feels like a brief calm after a bloody battle.
Blake sits heavily on the couch, winces as his ribs protest. I should get him ice, more pain medication, and help him out of his ruined clothes. But first, I just need to stand here and look at him. God, he’s a beautiful man.
"I'm okay," he says softly, reading my expression. “And I'm not going anywhere."
"You almost did." My voice breaks. "When that building collapsed, I thought you were gone.”
“Yee, of little faith.” He extends his good hand. "Come here, beautiful.”
I cross to him, let him pull me down beside him on the couch. We sit there in silence, his arm around me, my head on his chest, listening to the strong thump of his heartbeat.
Proof of life.
Proof that we made it.
"I'm still angry with you," I finally say. "For lying about my mother and for keeping that a secret from me.”
"You should be. I fucked up."
"But I'm also…” I struggle to find the words. “Also grateful you didn’t bail once you admitted to what you’d done. Not to mention that you walked into a burning building to save people you don't even like. I’m grateful for that too. I would have had their deaths on my conscience if they had died in that conference room.”
"I did it for you." His voice is rough, honest. "Everything I've done since I came back to this complicated town has been for you."
"I know." I tilt my head up to look at him. "And tomorrow we're going to talk about all of it and where we go from here. But tonight—" I frame his face with my hands, careful of the bruise forming on his jaw. "Tonight I just need to know we're both here, both alive, and choosing this."
“And what’s this?”
"Each other." I kiss him softly, tasting smoke and survival. "Despite everything that's happened, and your questionable decision-making,” I chuckle. “I still choose you, Blake Delano."
“That’s good.” His good arm tightens around me. “Because I choose you every fucking time."
We stay tangled together, injured and exhausted, for I don’t know how long until I hear his stomach growl.
“You’re hungry,” I notice.
“Everything popped off before the mini crab cakes were served. So, yeah, I could stand to eat something.”
“I’ll call down to room service.”
The kitchen sends up two special platters of Wintervale Grand’s version of a Christmas Eve dinner, plus a bottle of red wine. The food is nothing like my mom used to make, but it’s hot and tastes damn good after a night of sheer mayhem.
Outside, snow continues to fall on Wintervale, covering the destruction of the evening in pristine white, making everything look clean and new. It's a lie, of course. Morning will reveal the damage, the burns, the cost of what happened tonight. But for now, in this moment, I let myself believe in the possibility of new beginnings and second chances.
We toast to it.
"Merry Christmas, Blake.”
"Merry Christmas, Peyton.”
