I look away from Holly, sweeping my gaze over the crowd. “So you run. You default to what you know. The safe play. The responsible choice. You tell yourself it’s for the best. For everyone.”
My jaw clenches. “But it’s a lie. Wrapped up in fancy paper and tied with a bow, but a lie just the same.” The word hangs in the air, stark and brutal.
“I know. Because I did it. I ran from the best thing that’s happened to me since…” I stop, swallow hard. “I ran because I was afraid. Afraid of loving someone so completely that losing them would destroy me all over again.”
The room is utterly silent. Not a cough. Not a rustle. Just the sound of my own ragged breathing amplified in the mic.
I look at Holly again. The defiance in her posture is gone, replaced by something raw and open. Shock? Disbelief? Her hand is pressed to her mouth and tears shimmer in her eyes.
“I was wrong.” The words are simple. “Running wasn’t safe. It was just… stupid. And it hurt people I care about more than I ever thought possible.” My gaze flicks to Tabby, her small face a picture of bewildered hope. Mom gives me a small, encouraging nod. “So tonight… I’m not running anymore.”
I straighten up, squaring my shoulders. “You all probably heard the rumors.” “The trade offer with the San FranciscoGold.” I pause for emphasis. “I’ve informed my agent and the Gold organization that I am formally rejecting that offer.”
A collective gasp ripples through the room. “I’m staying with the Blades. I’m staying in Chicago. Because Chicago is my home.”
The whispers swell. I raise my voice slightly, cutting through them. “And it’s more than that. Chicago is home because of thepeoplewho make it one. The communities that give it heart. Places like…” I take a breath, locking eyes with Holly again. “Places like Sugar Rush Bakery in Wicker Park.”
Holly flinches, her eyes widening impossibly further. Tears spill over, tracing glistening paths down her cheeks.
“For those who don’t know,” I continue, my voice gaining strength, “Sugar Rush is more than just a bakery. It’s a gathering place. A warm spot on a cold day. It’s run by Holly James, a woman who embodies everything I was too afraid to let in: warmth, generosity, community spirit, and an unwavering belief in the people of Chicago.”
Holly manages a watery, trembling smile and it guts me. “She taught me something,” I press on, my voice thick with emotion I don’t try to hide anymore. “She taught me that home isn’t just walls. It’s the people inside them. It’s the connections. The shared moments. Belonging somewhere. To someone.”
I lean closer to the mic, my gaze never leaving Holly’s tear-streaked face. “And Sugar Rush belongs in Wicker Park. It belongs to that community. Which is why, tonight, I’m also announcing the formation of the Wicker Park Community Trust.”
Murmurs rise again, louder this time. “A non-profit consortium, funded by myself and other community-minded investors, dedicated to preserving the unique character and small businesses that make that neighborhood home. Our first official act…” I pause, letting the anticipation build. Holly isstaring at me, her hand still pressed to her lips. “…is to submit a formal offer to purchase the entire block currently slated for development. An offer that includes a legally binding covenant ensuring Sugar Rush Bakery remains exactly where it belongs, under Holly James’s ownership.”
The room explodes in cheers but I ignore it all. The only thing that exists is the woman in the green velvet dress, staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head. Or maybe… as if she’s seeing me for the very first time.
I step out from behind the podium and walk to the very edge of the stage. I look directly down at Holly.
“Holly, I was wrong.” The words are utterly inadequate for the chasm I ripped open between us. “I was so incredibly, devastatingly wrong.” My voice breaks. “Running was the worst mistake of my life. Not just because of the bakery. But because of you. Because of us.”
I take a shaky breath. “I love you, Holly.” The gasps from the crowd are audible. “I love your impossible optimism. I love the way you look at my daughter like she hung the moon. I love the way you made me feel… alive again. Truly alive.” I blink rapidly. “I’m not running anymore. Not from you. Not from this.”
I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Holly is motionless, tears streaming freely down her face, her eyes locked on mine, wide with shock and disbelief.
“I’m so sorry. Please…” I whisper. “Please… let me come home.”
For one endless, heart-stopping second, nothing happens. Holly just stares at me, her expression unreadable through the tears and the distance. The silence stretches, taut as a wire.
Then, without another word, without waiting for an answer I might not be ready to hear, I do the only thing left to do.
I turn. And I walk off the stage.
Chapter 35
Holly
My own heartbeat thunders in my ears, drowning out Charlie’s voice beside me. She’s gripping my arm, her mouth moving, but I can’t hear anything beyond the frantic drumming of my own pulse and the echo of his words.
I love you, Holly.
Let me come home.
My dress suddenly feels suffocating, tight across my chest. I need air. I need space. I need… to get away from this.
“Holly!” Charlie’s voice finally penetrates the haze, sharp with concern. “Hey, talk to me!”
