Chapter 24
LEO
Christmas Eve used to mean something. I think. Before everything got this shiny and sterile. Before the parties became obligations and the gifts turned into press releases.
Now it’s just another night in a glass castle with designer trees, imported wreaths, and a wine cellar that costs more than most people’s mortgages.
The wind howls outside, rattling the windows like it wants in. Candles flicker behind every pane, lit by some underpaid staff member following Mother’s spreadsheet of aesthetic requirements. I’m nursing a bourbon I don’t even like and watching the fire pretend to warm the room.
X is in Aspen, skiing with a girl whose dad owns a private jet leasing firm. Tristan’s in France, pretending to care about foie gras and heritage vineyards. Mindy is back in Hong Kong—clubbing living it up as the new it queen. And me? I’m here. Alone.
They let school out early this year—too much scandal, too many lawsuits brewing. Exams were proctored in a blur and most of us left campus with a to-do list of online assignments and a cloud of fallout hanging over everything.
Jade texted me two weeks ago.
Just a few words: I need more time.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I just said, Okay. Take it.
Then last week: I miss talking to you.
I almost dropped my phone.
We’ve been texting since. Small stuff. Light touches.
She sent a picture of the cookies she and Aunt Susan baked—a burnt tray and a laughing selfie of her covered in flour.
I sent her a video of my mom’s new life-sized nutcracker orchestra—don’t ask.
She laughed. I swear I felt it through the phone.
I tried seeing her twice. Drove into town, but she was always busy. FaceTiming family, delivering meals with her aunt, wrapping gifts for the shelter. She’s always doing something for someone.
And I’m here with this fire and this silence.
The doorbell chimes.
It echoes down the marble halls, cutting through the quiet like a blade. Most of the staff are off for the holiday—Mother gave them leave and flew off to her best friend’s estate in Monaco. I didn’t want to go. Told her I was studying. She didn’t press.
I pad barefoot across the tiles and open the door.
Jade is standing there. Wind in her hair. Red scarf knotted at her throat. And beside her—Aunt Susan, carrying a tray of something wrapped in foil.
“What…” I step back, blinking.
“Merry Christmas,” Jade says, grinning, cheeks pink from the cold.
“You—what is this?”
“I told you I missed talking to you,” she says, eyes shining. “And I figured… if I was going to spend Christmas with someone, I wanted it to be someone who made me feel like home.”
A lump rises in my throat, unexpected and brutal.
“But the staff’s gone,” I say stupidly. “There’s no food. No decorations upstairs. No plans.”
Susan shrugs. “We brought pie.”
“And matching pajamas,” Jade adds, holding up a ridiculous red-and-green set with a candy cane print.
I laugh—an actual, real laugh. I haven’t done that in weeks. “You’re insane.”
She smirks. “Maybe. Or maybe I just realized that I’m done letting other people decide how I spend my holidays.”
I grab her hand and pull her into the house, ignoring the blast of cold air that follows. Aunt Susan follows with the pie and a wink.
“We get the good wine?” she teases.
“Of course,” I say, breathless.
Jade looks up at me. “I didn’t come to fix everything… or to start again. But to just spend time with someone I miss. Someone who meant so much to me. I wanted to show you Christmas can be more than fancy things. ”
I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing a snowflake from her skin. “You already did.”
Outside, the wind keeps howling. But inside, for the first time in a long time, it’s warm.
And I’m still reeling from the sight of Jade in my doorway when I hear the sharp click of heels behind me. I turn just in time to see my mother sweep into the foyer like she owns the night.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” she says with a gleam in her eye. “Surprised?”
She’s wearing Chanel—what else? Head-to-toe winter white, pearls at her throat, not a hair out of place. Classic. Untouchable. A queen surveying her court.
“Mom, what the hell—I thought you left?”
“Language,” she says crisply, breezing past me to kiss Jade’s cheek like they’re old friends. “I assume you’re both staying?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Aunt Susan says, suddenly appearing with a pie in one hand and a knowing smile.
“Good,” my mother says. “The caterer is setting up in the dining room, and the quartet should be arriving any minute.”
Wait. Quartet?
I glance past her and blink as cousins, uncles, and -knows-who file through the front door with wrapped gifts and wine bottles. What is happening?
“You planned this?” I ask.
She turns to me with an arch of a perfectly manicured brow.
“Don’t act so shocked, Leo. I may be cold, but I’m not heartless.
You’ve been moping around this house like a ghost. I decided it was time to do something meaningful.
And before you ask—yes, I apologized to Miss Bryan.
And no, I don’t want to talk about it again. ”
Jade just shrugs, looking amused. “She actually did. Said I was 'the right kind of trouble.’”
I almost choke. “She said what?”
Jade grins. “With a glass of sherry in her hand, no less.”
My mother disappears into the house with a swish of perfume and pearls, leaving the door wide open and snow flurrying inside.
Jade laughs softly. “You gonna help with the bags or just keep staring like you’ve seen Santa and his elves.”
“Probably both,” I mutter, grabbing everything and still trying to catch up.
She walks beside me, close but not touching, her gloved fingers brushing mine like a promise. I don’t know what this Christmas is going to be—chaotic, dramatic, absolutely over the top—but one thing’s for sure:
She came back.
And that might just be the only gift I really wanted.
I’m not sure when the party officially started. One minute it was just Jade in the doorway, then my mom sweeping in like the damn Ghost of Bougie Christmas Present, and the next—half the town was in our living room sipping champagne and nibbling lobster canapés.
I don’t care. Because she’s here.
Jade’s hand is in mine and that’s all I can really focus on. We weave through clutches of my mother’s friends—socialites, prep school parents, a senator or two—all in designer wool and festive silk. She’s the only one that shines.
And the way she laughs when I lean in and whisper something stupid in her ear. Like she’s surprised how light it feels, how good it is to just be again.
“This way,” I murmur, tugging her toward the grand staircase.
“Are we sneaking off during your mom’s event?” she teases, raising a brow.
“Technically, I live here. So I’m giving you a house tour.”
“Sure. Totally innocent.”
But she doesn’t let go.
We duck into the study first—quiet and warm, with books older than both of us lining the walls. I press her against the doorway just to kiss her. Slow. Unhurried. She smiles against my mouth and wraps her arms around my neck.
“You’re seriously glowing,” I whisper.
“That’s probably just the string lights and a little illegal holiday punch,” she whispers back.
We sneak through the music room, the garden atrium, the sunroom glowing with candlelight. The house is full of laughter and music, but we’re in our own bubble. It’s the first time it feels like ours. Not my family’s museum, not a photo-op—it feels like a memory forming.
When we pass the long upstairs corridor, she tugs my hand, slowing us down. “Is that your room?”
“Why?” I grin. “Thinking about checking it out?”
“I just want to see if you still have that ridiculous wall of baseball hats.”
I open the door with a dramatic bow, and she walks in like she owns it. Her fingers trail along my desk, stopping at a framed photo of the two of us from before everything went to hell.
“You kept this?”
“Of course.””
She turns, soft eyes locking on mine. “Me either.”
And that’s when I kiss her again—deeper this time. With everything I’ve been holding back. The music downstairs swells, laughter echoing, but up here, all I can feel is her.
Maybe it’s the lights. Maybe it’s Christmas. Maybe it’s just her.
But for the first time in a long time… I feel happy.
We decide to be social and I get swept up with some of my father’s friends while Jade gets politely swarmed with old ladies in pearls.
She’s glowing. Not in the way girls glow when they’re trying to be seen, but in that dangerous way that comes from being comfortable in your own skin.
Her dress is simple, elegant, dark green silk that moves when she moves.
No armor tonight. No leather jacket. Just Jade.
Strong spine. Soft eyes. Power she doesn’t need to announce.
I forget how to breathe for a second.
She catches my eye across the room. Hesitates. Then smiles.
I cross the floor before I can overthink it.
“You look…” I trail off, because anything I say will sound inadequate.
She tilts her head. “Merry and bright?”
I nod. “Yeah. Like that.”
Music swells. Low lights. Conversations hum around us, careful, curated. If people are murmuring about us, it’s discreet. Respectful. No phones out. No spectacle.
This isn’t Royal Oaks.
This is grown-up territory.
We find ourselves slow dancing without either of us formally asking. My hand settles at her waist like it remembers the shape of her. Like it never forgot.
“Is that your aunt?” I murmur, nodding toward the bar.
Jade follows my gaze and laughs softly. “I know.”
Susan looks incredible. New haircut. New dress. New confidence. She’s leaning close to a man I don’t recognize, laughing like she means it.
“She’s dating again,” Jade adds. “Full glow-up.”
“Good for her,” I say, and mean it.
We sway in silence for a moment.
Then the words I’ve been holding all night rise up.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
She looks up. “For what?”
“For coming.” I swallow. “For making this special for me. I thought I’d be alone tonight.”