Chapter 31
Thirty-One
DECLAN
Career Crossroads
Richard’s final ultimatum had been clear: decide by five PM or lose my position permanently.
It was now eight-thirty PM, which meant I’d officially missed his deadline by three and a half hours.
In corporate law terms, this was roughly equivalent to showing up to court in pajamas or forgetting to file important documents—the kind of professional disaster that people talked about in hushed tones for years afterward.
Strangely, the thought of disappointing Richard felt less terrifying than it should have. What felt terrifying was the possibility that I was about to make the biggest decision of my life without knowing if Holly felt the same way about me that I felt about her.
I was reaching for my phone to call Richard and officially end my New York career when I heard voices from downstairs—familiar voices that shouldn’t have been possible, since my parents were supposed to be in Florida until after New Year’s.
“Declan!” came my mother’s voice from the kitchen, bright with obvious excitement. “Come down here, sweetheart! We have a surprise!”
A surprise. In my current emotional state, surprises felt about as welcome as a root canal, but ignoring my mother wasn’t really an option, especially if she and Dad had cut their vacation short for some reason.
I made my way downstairs to find the kitchen looking like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life.
My parents were standing by the counter, still wearing Florida tans and matching Christmas sweaters that suggested they’d done some serious holiday shopping in Key West. Mom was unpacking what appeared to be enough citrus fruit to stock a grocery store, while Dad was examining our ancient coffee maker with the kind of focused attention that suggested he was planning mechanical improvements.
“Mom? Dad?” I said, trying to process their unexpected presence. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back until January.”
“Plans changed,” Mom said cheerfully, pulling me into the kind of enthusiastic hug. “We decided we wanted to be home for Christmas with our family.”
I raised a suspicious eyebrow.
Looked like someone who lived next door had been chatting to their old friends about their kids.
“Mom,” I said carefully, “what exactly is this?”
“Oh, you know,” Mom said with the kind of innocent expression that immediately put me on high alert, “just that you’ve been coordinating the Christmas festival with Linda Winters’ daughter, and that you two make a lovely team, and that Jessica Peterson thinks you’re going to make beautiful babies together. ”
“Jessica Peterson thinks what?” I said, feeling my face heat up like a teenager caught looking at inappropriate magazines.
“Beautiful babies,” Dad repeated helpfully, looking up from the coffee maker. “Apparently, the entire town has been taking bets on when you’d figure out you were in love with each other.”
“We’re not—” I started automatically, then stopped because I was tired of denying something that was obviously true to everyone, including myself. “It’s complicated.”
“Love usually is,” Mom said with obvious satisfaction. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
Before I could figure out how to explain the various complications currently making my life feel like it was written by someone with a sadistic sense of humor, the doorbell rang.
“I wonder if that’s Holly,” Mom said brightly, heading for the front door with obvious excitement.
Mom opened the front door to reveal Holly standing on our front porch, looking beautiful and nervous and slightly confused about why my mother had opened the door when she was expecting to talk to me privately after the festival.
“Mrs. Hayes,” Holly said politely, though her eyes immediately found mine with obvious question. “How lovely to see you again. I hope you had a wonderful vacation.”
“Call me Carol,” Mom said warmly, ushering Holly inside with the kind of maternal efficiency that brooked no argument. “And it was lovely, though we missed being home for the holidays. We wanted to get back in time for the big day.”
“Mom,” I said, hoping to redirect the conversation before she started showing Holly my baby pictures or asking about her intentions regarding my future, “maybe we should—”
“Holly, dear,” Mom interrupted, “can I get you a glass of wine? Or tea?”
“Tea would be lovely,” Holly said, though she was still looking at me with the kind of expression that suggested she was trying to figure out if this parental ambush was my idea or something that had happened to both of us.
As Mom bustled around the kitchen preparing coffee and Dad regaled Holly with stories about their Florida adventures, I tried to figure out how to navigate the conversation I’d been planning to have with Holly privately while my parents conducted obviously enthusiastic romantic surveillance, all the while the seconds were ticking further past my Richard-given deadline.
“So, Holly,” Dad said, settling into his favorite kitchen chair with obvious satisfaction, “Are you home for the holidays or is this a move back to the old hometown?”
“Uhm,” Holly said, accepting a cup of tea from Mom with obvious gratitude. “I’m actually trying to figure out what comes next.”
The way she said it suggested she was talking about more than just career planning, and I wondered if she was having the same kind of life-altering realizations that had been keeping me awake for the past week.
“That’s exciting,” Mom said encouragingly. “Sometimes the best opportunities come when we’re open to new possibilities.”
“Sometimes,” Holly agreed, though something in her expression suggested she was grappling with exactly those kinds of new possibilities.
“Declan’s in a similar situation,” Dad added helpfully. “Big decisions about his future, career changes, that sort of thing.”
“Dad,” I said quickly, knowing that my parents were about to inadvertently reveal my career crisis before I’d had a chance to discuss it with Holly myself.
“What?” Dad said with obvious innocence. “I’m just saying that you’re both at interesting crossroads in your lives. Seems like good timing.”
Good timing. If only he knew that Holly and I had been dancing around each other for weeks, both keeping secrets about our futures while falling for each other in ways that complicated every decision we were trying to make.
“Actually,” Holly said carefully, setting down her tea, “I need to talk to Declan. Could we maybe talk privately for a minute?”
“Of course,” I managed, though what I was thinking was that private conversation was exactly what we should have been having days ago.
“You can use the living room,” Mom offered helpfully. “We’ll just finish cleaning up in here.”
As Holly and I made our way to the living room, I tried to figure out how to bring up my decision and what it meant for us.
“Holly,” I said, settling beside her on the couch, “I need to tell you something. About New York.”
She simply stared at me, waiting.
“I’m not going back,” I said, the words coming out in a rush before I could lose my nerve. “My firm gave me an ultimatum today—come back immediately or lose my position permanently. The deadline was 5 PM.”
“And what did you tell them?” she asked carefully.
“I missed the deadline.”
Holly stared at me like I’d just announced my intention to become a professional astronaut or take up competitive yodeling. “What does that mean?”
“It means, the decision has been made for me. I chose to lose my position.”
“You chose to lose your position,” she repeated slowly. “Your partnership-track position at one of the most prestigious firms in Manhattan.”
“Yes.”
“Because...?”
“Because I realized that everything I thought I wanted in New York felt empty compared to what I’ve found here, with you,” I said, reaching for her hands. “Because this town, this life, this thing between us—it feels more real than anything I’ve experienced in years.”
“Declan,” Holly said softly, “you can’t make career decisions based on—”
“Based on what?” I interrupted. “Based on being happy? Based on finding someone who makes me want to be better than I am by myself? Based on finally understanding the difference between existing somewhere and truly belonging there?”
Holly was looking at me with the kind of expression that suggested she was processing multiple emotions simultaneously, none of which I could accurately interpret.
“But your career,” she said weakly. “Everything you’ve worked for—”
“Doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make me happy and was giving me panic attacks,” I said firmly. “Holly, you make me happy. This place makes me happy. Building a life here, with you, if you want that—that makes me happy in ways that corporate law never could.”
“Panic attacks?”
I nodded.
“You want to build a life with me?” Holly repeated, like she was testing the words for meaning.
“If you want that,” I said, declaring my feelings without knowing if she felt the same way.
“If you decide to go back to Chicago after the holidays to pursue another career, or simply to go back to where you’ve lived for years, I’m coming with you.
If you tell me that what’s happening between us is as real for you as it is for me. ”
Before Holly could respond, the sound of the front door opening interrupted our conversation, followed by familiar voices that suggested my parents had taken it upon themselves to expand the evening’s social gathering.
“Linda! Stan!” came my mother’s voice from the entryway, bright with obvious delight. “You made it!”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” came a voice I recognized as Stan. “Linda’s been looking forward to meeting your Florida adventures.”
Holly and I looked at each other with mutual horror as we realized that my parents had apparently invited Holly’s parents over for what was rapidly becoming a four-person romantic surveillance operation.
“Holly?” Linda’s voice called from the kitchen. “Are you here, sweetheart?”
“In the living room, Mom,” Holly called back, though her expression suggested she was calculating escape routes.
“Should we—” I started.
“Definitely,” Holly agreed, and we both stood up just as both sets of parents appeared in the living room doorway with the kind of expectant expressions that suggested they’d been coordinating this ambush for some time.
“Don’t mind us,” Mom said cheerfully, settling into her favorite armchair with obvious satisfaction. “We just thought it would be nice to all spend some time together.”
“Very nice,” Linda agreed, taking the seat in the chair beside her. “Like a family gathering.”
A family gathering. The implications of that phrase hung in the air like a challenge, and I realized that our private conversation had just become a public declaration whether we were ready for it or not.
“Actually,” I said, figuring that if we were going to have an audience for this conversation, I might as well make it count, “there’s something I want to say. To Holly, and to everyone.”
“Declan,” Holly said quietly, “you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” I interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Because I’ve spent years making decisions based on what I thought I should want instead of what actually made me happy, and I’m tired of letting fear make my choices for me.”
The room went completely quiet, and I was suddenly aware that I had the focused attention of four people who were deeply invested in whatever I was about to say.
“Holly,” I continued, taking her hands in mine, “I know this is complicated. I know we both have decisions to make about our careers and our futures. But I need you to know that you’re the reason I want to stay in Everdale Falls.
You’re the reason I’m finally brave enough to choose happiness over security. ”
“Declan,” Holly whispered, her eyes filling with tears again.
“I don’t care if you want to go back to Chicago,” I said, the words tumbling out faster than I could really think them through.
“I’ll come with you. I’ll figure out how to practice law in Illinois, or I’ll find something else to do, or I’ll become a professional festival coordinator if that’s what it takes.
Because losing you would be worse than losing any career. ”
The silence that followed my declaration was broken by what sounded suspiciously like sniffling from the parental gallery, though when I glanced over, all four adults were trying to look like they definitely weren’t crying over romantic declarations in their living room.
“You’d move to Chicago,” Holly said slowly, like she was testing the concept for plausibility. “For me.”
“I’d move anywhere for you,” I said, realizing as I said it that it was completely true. “Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being Matt’s little sister or my festival coordination partner and became the person I can’t imagine living without.”
“Oh, Declan,” Holly said, and then she was kissing me, right there in front of both sets of parents, with the kind of desperate intensity that suggested she’d been waiting to hear those words for longer than either of us had realized.
When we finally broke apart, I was vaguely aware that our audience was beaming at us with obvious satisfaction, like they’d personally orchestrated our romantic revelation through the power of strategic parental interference.
“So,” Dad said cheerfully, “should we start planning the wedding, or are you two going to make us wait until after New Year’s?”
“Dad,” I said, though I was grinning as I said it, “maybe let us figure out which state we’re going to be living in first.”
“Details,” Mom said dismissively. “The important thing is that you’re finally admitting you’re perfect for each other.”
As both sets of parents launched into enthusiastic discussion of our romantic future, Holly and I looked at each other with mutual amazement at how quickly our private conversation had become a family celebration.
But as I watched her smile, I realized that maybe having an audience for life-altering declarations wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Especially when the declaration was that I was ready to follow her anywhere, even if anywhere turned out to be Chicago.
Some love stories were worth rearranging your entire life for, even if that life rearrangement happened in front of your parents while they planned your hypothetical wedding.