I clicked through anyway and talked faster, trying to make him see it. The magic I wanted to create. The warmth. The joy.
He interrupted with questions about weight loads. Vendor insurance. Setup timelines.
My frustration built with every clinical question, every dismissed idea. “You’re sucking all the joy out of Christmas,” I finally said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
He leaned back, that infuriating calm settling over his features. “And someone has to be the adult in the room. This is an eight-thousand-dollar venue, not a craft fair.”
Something in me snapped. I closed my laptop with more force than necessary and stood up, grabbing the muffin container. He hadn’t even looked at them.
“You know what? I’ve dealt with grumpy men my whole life. My uncle couldn’t be bothered with Christmas either. But I’m not letting you ruin this for me or the people I love.”
I was at the door when his voice stopped me. “Ms. Gregory.”
I turned, expecting an apology. Or maybe another lecture about fire codes.
“We have another meeting scheduled for Thursday. Two p.m. Don’t be late.”
I stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Extremely.” He opened his tablet, already moving on. “And Ms. Gregory?”
“What?”
“Next time, skip the coffee.”
I left before I could say something I’d regret.
The hallway felt too bright, too cheerful with its tasteful holiday decorations. I clutched my muffins and tried not to cry.
This party was supposed to be perfect. A thank you to everyone who’d ever made me feel like I belonged. And now I was stuck planning it with a man who thought magic could be measured in weight loads and engineering approvals.
I’d survived worse than Grady Thorne.
I’d survived being shipped off to Seattle at six years old to live with an uncle who barely knew I existed. I’d survived Christmases spent alone while he worked or drank or both. I’d survived building a family from scratch, piece by piece, holiday by holiday.
I could survive this.
Even if it killed me.
2
GRADY
The brunette was due any minute, and we were at DEFCON 5 over here at Evergreen Apps.
“What do you mean my package was delivered?” I said, keeping my tone calm even though my pulse was sprinting. “I’m standing in my office. No package.”
The woman on the other end of the line hesitated. “It looks like it was delivered to the lobby of…Reboot? Does that sound familiar?”
It definitely sounded familiar. Reboot was my building. My penthouse. My sanctuary. Also, apparently, my backup warehouse.
“How big is the package?”
“Uh…pretty large, sir.”
Of course, it was. The custom light installation I’d ordered for tonight’s Sparkle & Spirit Benefit was roughly the size of a small refrigerator. And without it, the event—and Evergreen’s reputation—would crash and burn.
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
