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“It’s not your fault,” she says. “You made it clear from the start that your family and business were more important than anything. I didn’t listen. I should have.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s not true.”

My fucking phone buzzes again. I turn it off.

“Work?” she asks. “Family?”

“I don’t know.” I wince.

“But you’ll have to know eventually, Theo.” She gives me the saddest smile. “And then you’ll have to go back and clean up everybody’s messes because that’s what you do. And I get it, I do. What we had… these weeks… they were perfect. But they were perfect because it was a break from who we really are. I understand that now. I was your holiday fling. And you were mine.”

“No. That’s not true. I wasn’t even on holiday.”

“Maybe you were,” she says softly. “Maybe you were on a holiday from yourself for a while. God knows you deserve it.”

She folds her arms across her chest, like she’s holding herself together.

“And I loved it. God, I loved it.” Her voice cracks slightly. “But I can’t keep pretending that’s real life.”

I feel something inside my chest start to cave in.

“Georgia—”

“My whole life I’ve been the extra person,” she continues quietly. “The one who fits in around everyone else. My father pretended I didn’t exist. Patrick cheated on me while I was planning our wedding. And every time I told myself it was fine. That if I tried a little harder, gave a little more, eventually I’d be enough for somebody.” She shakes her head. “I can’t do that anymore.”

Her eyes meet mine again. “I love you, Theo.”

The words hit me like a punch.

“But loving you means understanding that I’ll never come first.” Her gaze flicks to the phone in my hand. “I will always come second to that.”

She swallows.

“I’ve been waiting so long for somebody who cared enough to fight for me. And now...” she lets out a breath. “I’ve realized I shouldn’t rely on other people to do it. I have to be that person for myself.”

My eyes start to sting. “You should always be first,” I tell her. “Always.”

Her bottom lip trembles, but she says nothing.

“Do you know how much it’s killing me not to touch you? To comfort you?” I ask. I’m having to physically hold myself back.

“Thank you for respecting my boundaries,” she says softly.

And then I feel it. A hot trail of a tear sliding down my cheek to my jaw. I wipe it with the back of my hand.

“I don’t know how to stop loving you,” I tell her.

She closes her eyes for a moment. “Neither do I.” Her voice trembles. “But loving someone doesn’t mean they’re right for your life.”

My stomach tightens. It feels like I’m standing on the edge of an abyss. One wrong move and I’ll fall apart completely.

And it’s not fair to her. She doesn’t want this. She wants somebody who’ll fight for her.

And for once in my life, I’m going to listen.

Somewhere in the apartment, a phone beeps. It’s midnight. Christmas Day is here.

“I hear you,” I tell her quietly. “And I’m not going to push you.” I pause. “But I’m not done yet, either.”