"Can't someone else handle it?"
"I'm the lead on the account. If I'm not there—" Riley stopped, rubbing her forehead. "It looks bad. For me. For my team."
Grant nodded slowly, trying to keep his expression neutral even as panic clawed at his throat. This was it. The moment he'd been dreading. The job pulling her back, demanding more than she'd planned to give.
And here was the thing—technically, if this were still fake, Riley didn't owe him anything. Not an explanation, not reassurance, not a promise to come back. It was her job. Her life. Her decision.
But she was standing here explaining anyway. Promising anyway. Looking at him with those worried eyes like his feelings mattered to her.
That was the shift, wasn't it? The unspoken officialness that had settled over them somewhere between Christmas morning and now. They hadn't said the words yet—hadn't defined what they were doing or made any formal declarations.
But this was real. The way she touched him was real. The way she looked at him was real. The fact that she was trying so hard to reassure him instead of just going was real.
They'd crossed some invisible line, and there was no going back.
"How long?" Grant asked.
"Just one day. One quick meeting." Riley sat beside him, taking his hands. "I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning, handle the meeting, and be back by late afternoon. There's that children's Christmas pageant tomorrow evening—Hannah's kids are in it. I promised I'd be there."
"The pageant's at five."
"I know. I'll make it. I promise." Riley squeezed his hands, her eyes earnest. "It's one meeting, Grant. A few hours at most. I'll be back in time."
Grant wanted to believe her. He did believe her—Riley didn't make promises lightly.
But there was a knot in his chest that wouldn't loosen. A whisper in the back of his mind that said he'd heard this before. That something always came up. That Riley's job would always find a way to take priority.
"Okay," he said, and the word felt like gravel in his throat.
"You're upset."
"I'm not—" Grant stopped, made himself meet her eyes. "I'm worried. This is how it started before. One meeting turning into three. One day turning into a week."
"This is different."
"Is it?"
Riley flinched. "Grant, I promise you this is one meeting. One day. I'll be back by evening."
"I know. I know you're right." Grant pulled her close, pressing his face into her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm being paranoid."
"You're allowed to be scared." Riley's arms came around him, holding tight. "But I'm coming back. I promise."
Grant held her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, trying to quiet the voice in his head that said,What if she doesn't? What if the city swallows her again? What if you're not enough to bring her home?
"I believe you," he said, and tried to make it true.
They spent the rest of the afternoon together, quieter now. The easy joy from the morning had shifted into something more fragile. Riley sat curled against him on the couch while the fire crackled. Grant held her close, trying not to think about tomorrow.
But underneath it all, that knot of dread sat heavy in his chest.
By evening, Thomas had returned and the three of them made dinner together—Riley chopping vegetables whileGrant handled the meat, Thomas supervising and offering commentary on their technique. It should have felt normal. Domestic. Perfect.
But Grant couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching the last perfect moment before everything changed.
That night, lying in bed with Riley curled against his side, Grant stared at the ceiling and tried to quiet his fears.
She was going back to the city tomorrow. Just for the day. Just for one meeting.
