31. Holly
31
HOLLY
Watching Christmas lights twinkle used to fill me with a kind of unexplainable cheer that I’ve always called Christmas magic since I was ten. No matter how sad I was, the season lightened my heart and filled me with joy.
Not today.
Curled up on the sofa in Lauren and Mia’s house. I sink into the embrace of a blanket that’s fresh out of the dryer—the heavy decorations feel warm, safe, but never quite enough to chase away the chill that’s set deep in the bones.
Lauren sits across from me, legs tucked underneath her, looking like a mix between a concerned best friend and an overprotective sister with an intense gaze that says, I won’t ask until you’re ready, but don’t even think about staying quiet.
My hands twist the edges of the thick blanket she wrapped around me when I walked in here last night, numb and blinking back tears.
“So,” she finally says, breaking the silence with her signature you’re going to spill or else look, “are we talking about this, or am I just here to watch you tie that blanket into a pretzel?”
My shoulders slump. This is exactly why I came here instead of staying holed up alone. Lauren is the kind of friend who can pull the ugliest truths out and somehow make them feel less … sticky.
"Lauren, I—well, it’s not just a break-up, okay? It’s everything.”
She pulls her legs up onto the couch, settling in for the long haul. “Everything like, let me guess, Mr. Ice King Ethan?”
My heart squeezes so tight I have to press a hand to my chest. “It’s yes. And no.” Deep breath, Holly. “I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes widen, then soften as she takes my hand, squeezing it tight enough to ground me, just a little. “You’re … wow. Holly, that’s huge. But also, does Ethan know?”
I shake my head, feeling the prickling heat in my eyes again. “No. And now that we’ve got a whole gossip storm brewing about us, I can’t. I just can’t. Lauren, I feel like I’ll force him into a decision he naturally doesn’t want to make. He’s never been positive about family stuff. He doesn’t even talk about his own. And every time we get close, he pulls back. I left because … I love him more than I even know how to deal with. But what if he’s just never going to be a family guy?”
Lauren’s expression shifts from shock to sympathy, but she stays silent, letting the words pour out of me.
“I mean, he didn’t exactly choose his family before, did he? I know he’s got that whole mysterious ice-king routine, but he’s so private. Lauren, what if I can’t do it alone? But also, what if he doesn’t want this? Not really.”
A wave of exhaustion sweeps over me, bringing with it the dull ache of heartbreak. Lauren’s hand stays firm on mine, steady, keeping me from falling apart entirely. “Holly,” she begins softly, “do you even know if this is all just you assuming the worst? I’ve seen him with you. He cares about you—more than I think even he knows. And if you tell him, maybe he’ll?—”
“Maybe he’ll what, Lauren? Be happy I’m in his life while the whole city talks about how scandalous it is? It’s too much. It feels … impossible.”
Lauren sighs, a mix of exasperation and genuine compassion, her eyes flicking back to mine. “Okay. So, the question is: what do you want to do about it? Hide here until Christmas?”
I shake my head, pulling myself together with sheer force. “No. If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that running solves nothing. I’m going to work. The best I can do is make sure this gala is a success.”
She lets out a relieved breath. “That’s my girl. We’ll deal with the rest when you’re ready.”
I know that is easier said than done and mentally prepare for what’s to come.
The office is like a hive of whispers as I walk through, pretending not to notice the sidelong glances and occasional gasps as I head to the manager’s office. There’s that slow-motion sensation, like the moment in a rom-com when everything freezes … except here it’s less Meet Cute and more Tabloid Catastrophe. Every Christmas decoration—the tinsel, the tiny Christmas trees, the flashing reindeer—all look festive and innocent enough. But each sparkling light feels like a spotlight on this new scandal.
People whisper louder as I pass, conversations hushed just enough to carry the message clearly. Did you hear about Holly? Can you believe it? Wonderful. All I need now is a red “X” marked on my office door to complete the holiday vibes.
By the time I reach Reid’s office, the tension in my chest feels thick enough to choke me. My knuckles hover at the door when it suddenly swings open, and Ethan steps out.
Standing in the doorway like some romance-novel cover model, all brooding eyes and a jawline carved from granite, he looks tired. A little worn. But the minute his gaze meets mine, there’s that unspoken something, pulling and stretching between us.
His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move. Neither do I. The silence thickens, and it feels like an eternity before I tear my eyes away and duck into Reid’s office.
The team manager gives me a once over as soon as I step in. “Ah, Holly,” Reid greets, clasping his hands with a warmth that feels almost misplaced in all of this. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I brace myself, expecting a lecture, or maybe a polite-but-necessary let-go speech. But he surprises me by skipping right over the scandal. “It seems,” he says, clearing his throat, “that Ethan has dropped out of the gala planning team.”
A twist of something bittersweet unfurls in my stomach. He’s done this for me, hasn’t he? To protect me from further comments, further judgment. But instead of feeling relief, I feel … well, hollow. “He, uh, he did?”
Reid nods, eyeing me with a faint smile. “He’s a stubborn one. But this event is still yours to make a success, Holly. That’s why I called you in.”
“I can handle it,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Good.” He pauses, his eyes glinting with something else. “And there’ll be press coverage. Reporters are asking questions, wanting to get insights on the event.”
“Of course,” I mutter, my mind already racing.
Hours later, I walk into the dim, buzzing room where the reporter is waiting, feeling like a circus animal sent out to entertain. And when the man turns around, the smile fades from my face.
Raymond Blue, of all people.
“Ms. Bennett,” he greets me, his smile smooth as butter left in the sun.
“Mr. Blue,” I return, folding my arms, not even bothering to fake politeness.
“So, let’s get right to it,” he starts, voice carrying a hint of barely restrained glee. “Anything you’d like to say about Ethan Carter? Scandal, rumors? I’ve heard his family’s been very forthcoming.”
Family? I narrow my eyes. “His family, you say? Well, considering they’ve barely ever been around, I wonder where you’d dig up a scoop like that.”
“Oh, my sources are reliable.” Blue’s smirk is one I’d love to wipe clean off his face. “Care to comment on the break-up with Jake Roland just a few months back? Certainly seems convenient.”
My patience snaps like an overstretched rubber band. “Mr. Blue, this gala isn’t about me or my past. So if you’re here to interview, stick to the event.”
“Oh, but I think people would love to know more about the woman who’s captured the heart of Chicago’s favorite ice king,” he presses, feigning innocence.
I meet his stare, unflinching. “Actually, they’re here to support a cause, Mr. Blue. Not feed your clickbait fantasies. Stick to the event or find the door.”
His smile fades, but a glint of something darker appears. “Very well, Ms. Bennett. But don’t expect me to be quite so forgiving, next time.”
With a polite nod and a glance toward the door, I end the conversation. He finally gets up, casting one last patronizing smirk before he slinks off.
I walk slowly back to my desk; the weight of the day presses down like a leaden blanket. Ethan’s sacrifice, his protective withdrawal … it all clings to me, mingling with memories of his gaze, his quiet promises, and my own helpless longing. And beneath it all, the tiny, fragile hope for a future I’m still too scared to believe in.
As I sit down, pen in hand, a plan forms. The gossip, the rumors, they’ll circle. But I can keep my chin up. Because some things are worth the fight. And no matter what, Christmas comes with the bright, undeniable promise of something new, something hopeful, hidden beneath every flickering light.