Chapter 8 Sloane #2
The next hour passes in a whirl of conversations, introductions, and the practiced mingling that comes with hosting a successful event.
I watch with pride as Atticus charms the town council, discusses sustainable tourism with local business owners, and even crouches down to admire a little girl's holiday dress with genuine interest.
This man, this complex, brilliant, increasingly warm-hearted man, has become so much more than my best friend or even my lover. He's become essential, a part of me I can't imagine being without.
The realization should terrify me. In less than two weeks, the holidays will be over. The Winter Division will officially launch. And Atticus will return to New York, to board meetings and corporate politics and a life a thousand miles removed from Hope Peak.
We've talked around the subject, made vague promises to "figure it out," but the reality looms larger with each passing day. Long-distance relationships are hard enough without adding the complexity of his high-pressure career and my deeply rooted ties to Hope Peak.
"There you are!" Brynn's voice pulls me from my thoughts. She approaches with Callum beside her, both looking festive in holiday attire. "The photographer wants a shot of the key team members by the ice sculpture."
"Of course." I push my worries aside, professional mask firmly in place. "Have you seen Jenna and Marcus?"
"Already waiting," Callum confirms. "Along with Mr. Morgan and the council representatives."
I follow them to the center of the room, where Atticus stands with Levi, Marcus, and Jenna beside the elaborate ice sculpture. His face brightens when he sees me, extending his hand to draw me into the group.
"Our missing piece," he says, positioning me beside him. His fingers brush mine, a small gesture that speaks volumes. "Now we're complete."
The photographer arranges us carefully, suggesting we group closer for the shot. As Atticus's arm slips around my waist, perfectly proper yet intimately familiar, I lean into his warmth.
"Smile, everyone!" the photographer calls. "This is for the press release and the town archives. A historic collaboration!"
Flashes pop as multiple shots are taken. Through it all, I'm acutely aware of Atticus beside me, solid and real and somehow mine, at least for now.
After the photos, the formal program transitions to dancing as the band strikes up a holiday classic. Couples move toward the small dance floor, and I feel Atticus's questioning gaze on me.
"May I have this dance?" he asks, formal yet playful as he extends his hand.
"I'm not much of a dancer," I admit, though I place my hand in his without hesitation.
"I've seen you dance," he counters, leading me to the floor. "At the Blackwood holiday party last year."
"That was after three cosmos and Jenna's insistence that the electric slide was making a comeback."
His laugh vibrates through me as he draws me into his arms. "This is simpler. Just follow my lead."
And it is simple, somehow. His hand at my waist guides me effortlessly, our bodies moving together with the same natural harmony we've discovered in every other aspect of our relationship. I relax into his embrace, letting the music and the moment wash over me.
"Everyone's watching us," I murmur, noting the smiles and glances directed our way.
"Let them," he replies, unconcerned. "They're just witnessing what we stopped denying weeks ago."
"And what's that?"
His eyes, warm gray in the twinkling lights, meet mine. "That I'm completely, undeniably yours, Sloane Parker. And I hope you're mine."
The simple declaration steals my breath. "I am," I assure him, my voice barely audible over the music. "Completely."
Something shifts in his expression, a decision forming behind those intelligent eyes, but before he can speak, the music changes to a more upbeat number, and the moment breaks.
"I need some air," I say suddenly, the weight of emotions, joy, desire, fear of the inevitable separation, overwhelming me. "Just for a minute."
Concern furrows his brow, but he nods. "The terrace? I'll come with you."
"No, stay," I insist. "Keep charming the investors. I'll be right back."
Before he can protest, I slip away, making my way to the small terrace door at the back of the room. Outside, the night air is crisp and cold, the stars brilliant above the snow-covered town. I breathe deeply, letting the winter chill clear my head.
What am I doing? Falling headlong into a relationship that has a built-in expiration date? Atticus's life is in New York. My life is here. The Winter Division may bring him back for occasional visits, but the reality is that in less than two weeks, everything changes.
The door opens behind me, and I know without turning that it's him. His scent, expensive cologne and something uniquely Atticus, reaches me moments before his jacket settles around my shoulders.
"You'll freeze out here," he says, coming to stand beside me at the railing. "Everything okay?"
"Just needed a moment," I reply, not quite meeting his eyes. "It's a lot; the gala, the attention, us."
"Too much?" There's a note of vulnerability in his voice I rarely hear.
"No," I assure him quickly, turning to face him. "Never too much. Just... overwhelming sometimes. How fast everything's changed."
He studies me, reading between the lines as he always does. "You're thinking about what happens after the holidays."
It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "Aren't you?"
"Constantly." His hands find mine, warming them despite the cold. "But not with dread, Sloane. With determination."
"Determination?"
"To find a solution that doesn't require either of us to sacrifice what matters." His thumbs trace circles on my wrists, a soothing gesture. "I'm a problem-solver by nature, remember? And this is the most important problem I've ever needed to solve."
Hope flutters in my chest. "And have you? Solved it?"
Something shifts in his expression, determination mingling with a vulnerability that catches me off guard. "I think so. But tonight isn't the time to discuss logistics and five-year plans."
"When is?"
"Soon," he promises. "But right now, there's mistletoe above us, and I believe there are traditions to uphold."
I glance up, spotting the sprig of green tied with a red ribbon above our heads. "Very convenient."
"I may have noticed it earlier," he admits, drawing me closer. "Strategic planning is my specialty, after all."
"Sneaky CEO," I murmur as his lips hover just above mine.
"Only for you," he whispers, closing the distance between us.
The kiss begins softly, a gentle press of lips that quickly deepens as I melt against him.
His arms wrap around my waist, drawing me flush against the hard planes of his chest as my hands slide into his hair.
The familiar heat builds between us, turning the innocent mistletoe tradition into something far more heated.
When we finally break apart, both breathing harder, I notice we've attracted an audience through the glass doors, Brynn giving an enthusiastic thumbs up, Jenna pretending not to watch while smiling into her champagne, and Vivienne looking smugly satisfied with the entire situation.
"So much for discretion," I laugh, pressing my forehead to his chest momentarily.
"I think that ship sailed when I couldn't stop staring at you during board calls," he admits, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Marcus started scheduling extra breaks just so I could text you."
"Poor Marcus," I say, imagining the assistant's quiet accommodation of his boss's obvious distraction. "He deserves a bonus."
"Already arranged." Atticus presses a kiss to my forehead. "Along with one for Jenna, who has apparently been 'Team Atticus and Sloane' since that charity gala last year."
"Is that what we are? A team?" The question slips out before I can stop it, revealing more vulnerability than I intended.
His expression softens as he cups my cheek. "We're whatever you want us to be, Sloane. Partners. Lovers." His voice drops lower. "Everything."
The word resonates through me, perfect in its simplicity and scope. "Everything," I repeat, liking how it feels. "I can work with that."
"Good." He tucks me against his side, his warmth a shield against the winter chill. "Now, shall we go back inside before the gossip evolves from 'they're definitely together' to 'they're definitely up to something on the terrace'?"
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have all evening. "Lead the way, Mr. Morgan."
As we reenter the gala, his hand warm and steady at the small of my back, I push aside thoughts of inevitable separations and uncertain futures. Tonight is about celebrating what we've built, the Winter Division, the community partnerships, and this unexpected, wonderful thing between us.
Tomorrow's problems can wait for tomorrow.
Tonight, I'm exactly where I want to be: by Atticus Morgan's side, under the twinkling lights of a Hope Peak holiday gala, and feeling for the first time in my life like I've found where I truly belong.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of dancing, champagne toasts, and the warm buzz of a community coming together in celebration.
Through it all, Atticus remains close, his hand finding mine, his eyes seeking me across the room, small touches and private smiles creating an intimate conversation beneath the public festivities.
By the time the gala winds down, past midnight with only the most dedicated revelers remaining, exhaustion and champagne have softened the edges of my earlier worries. When Atticus whispers "Ready to go?" against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine, I nod without hesitation.
We say our goodbyes, accepting congratulations on the event's success and promising to meet various people for coffee or meetings in the coming days. Vivienne kisses both our cheeks, whispering something to Atticus that makes his eyes widen momentarily before he composes himself.