The Holiday Games

Chapter 22

twenty-two

. . .

Leo

F or a heart-shattering second, I’m not sure she’s going to stop.

She’s going to keep running, and I’ll never get to tell her that I don’t care that the show’s ruined or that I’ve botched my one shot at taking control of my career. There’s no way investors will look twice at a Leo Fenton production now, not when I blew half a million dollars in funding and ended up with nothing but a scandal and a lawsuit to show for it.

But I don’t give a shit.

I would leave behind the entertainment industry, the city I love, and just about everything else for Caroline. In a few short days, she’s become the dream I most desperately want to come true.

So, I tell her I love her.

I do it right there on the sidewalk in the snobbiest part of the Upper East Side, surrounded by strangers filming on their cell phones and contestants gaping by the curb, and half my staff, who I’m sure are wishing they had picked any project but mine right about now.

But the risk pays off.

Caroline turns, her wide eyes filled with wonder and pain. I sense I have about five seconds before she runs again, so I do what any man in my position would.

I’ve waited my entire life for this, to meet a woman who feels like she was made to be mine. I’m not about to lose her because I was too cowardly to put it all on the line on Madison Avenue.

“This doesn’t matter.” I sweep my arm wide, gesturing to the cameras, the boom mics, and the production assistants with their clipboards and fretful expressions. “None of it. I don’t care about the scandal. I don’t care if this ends my career. I don’t regret a single step I took with this show, because every one led me to you.”

Tears fill her eyes. She shakes her head, but I push on before she can speak, “I’m serious. I love you. I know this happened fast, but I don’t doubt the way I feel. Not for a second. This is it. You know it is. We found the real deal, Caroline Cane, and we’d be fools to turn our backs on it.”

“I can’t,” she says, tears streaming quietly down her face. “I’m so sorry, Leo, but I can’t. I can’t stay. And I can’t be with you, not ever.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice breaking in the middle of the word. I take a beat, fighting for control before I ask, “What could possibly be more important than this? Fuck the scandal and the show and what anyone else thinks. This is our shot to live the dream, the most important dream. The one where we’re finally safe and loved and happy and…home.” Tears coming in hot behind my eyes, I add, “I want to be your home, Caroline. I want to be the person you can trust to have your back, in good times and bad times and everything in between. I want to laugh with you and cry with you and hold your hand when we’re old and gray.”

“I want that too,” Millie pipes up. I glance over to see both her and Eduardo wiping at their damp cheeks. “And I want it for you guys. Stay, Caroline. Stay, and talk it through. We’re innkeepers! Making people happy is what we do, and anyone with eyes can see that the two of you would be so happy together. Leo’s right. This is the real deal.”

“And you don’t walk away from the real deal,” Eduardo adds, accepting the tissue Grace presses into his hand. “You can’t. I refuse to allow it. I’ll quit the show first.”

“ She should quit the show, not you. It’s only fair,” Jenna says, but her voice is far less heated than it was when she was tearing into Caroline a minute ago. And she actually smiles as she adds, “But you should stay in New York, Goody Two-Shoes. Stay and love this dude. You know you want to.”

“I do,” Caroline says, tears still streaming down her face and not a hint of hope in her gaze. “I want it more than anything, but I can’t. I really can’t. I’m so sorry, Leo. I hope you can forgive me someday. And I hope you finish the show. The others deserve that. I don’t want my mistakes to ruin things for innocent people.”

“I’m not innocent,” Eduardo squawks, propping his hand on his hip. “I’m pissed! I’ll be even more pissed if you don’t wake up and smell the coffee, girl. This man puked his heart out onto the pavement for you. Do you know how rare that is? Get over here and pick it up before Uncle Eduardo has to get out his mean voice.”

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” Caroline sobs as she backs away. “I have to go home. Now.”

She turns to go again, but this time she doesn’t run. She walks, slowly and steadily, to the end of the block. I watch her turn left and disappear from sight, feeling like I’m being torn in two. One part of me insists I should run after her and do whatever it takes to keep her by my side, even if I have to handcuff us together and throw away the key.

But the realistic half of me knows it would be pointless. I don’t understand why, but Caroline’s mind is made up. I could see it in the defeated slump of her shoulders and the misery swimming in her eyes.

It’s over.

And I didn’t even get the chance to tell her that I found Greg this morning and had a production assistant drop him off in her hotel room…

I pull my phone from my pocket, but pause with my thumb over Caroline’s number. I doubt she’ll answer a call from me right now. Not now, and maybe not ever again.

I text Ainsley instead, asking her to meet Caroline in her room and explain that she doesn’t have to take Greg with her to Vermont if she’s changed her mind about adopting my cat. I can come pick him up at the hotel later today, once the window in my apartment is fixed.

Ainsley texts back almost instantly— I’m in a meeting with the lawyer about damage control if Jenna sues. Can you find someone else?

Glancing up, I ask Jenna, “Are you going to sue? Or can I put Ainsley’s time to better use than meeting with our lawyer?”

Her pale cheeks flushing a guilty pink, Jenna shrugs. “Nah, we’re good. Sorry if I…misjudged you guys or whatever. And sorry you lost the girl. She annoyed the shit out of me, but…”

“Thanks,” I say curtly as Millie pats Jenna on the back, assuring her, “Oh, you annoyed the shit out of her, too, honey.”

“You annoy the shit out of all of us,” Eduardo seconds. “But I get it. I had a chip on my shoulder at your age, too. You should try chakra therapy. Changed my life. No more seething resentment, and I finally stopped clenching my teeth in my sleep.”

Jenna’s cheeks go from pink to red. “It’s just hard to think the best of people when so many assholes have shown you their worst.”

Millie wraps her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders, hugging her to her side. “I hear you. But we’re not like that. Neither is Caroline. So, let’s finish this show with the true meaning of the holidays in our hearts. We can fight to the death and love each other at the same time, right? I mean, why not?”

Jenna’s lips hook up. “Yeah, I can do that. At least that way I leave with friends even if I miss out on the prize money.”

Eduardo sighs. “Friends are the real prize.”

“No, money is the real prize,” Millie says. “But you’re a doll, and I want you both to come visit me in Bad Dog after I win. My Halloween party is going to rock your world.”

Eduardo and Jenna laugh.

Grace glances my way, her brows lifting in a silent question. I nod and she exhales a relieved breath.

“All right then,” she says, motioning to the camera crew. “Let’s get set up for the losers’ challenge, but with a twist. Today, the winner of that challenge gets the spa day that was booked for Caroline, and I’ll order pizza for everyone to share on the roof of the hotel tonight to celebrate a job well done. Crew included.”

As the cast and crew cheer this plan, I turn away, texting Ainsley— No need for the lawyer. The situation is contained, and Caroline is leaving the show. I just want her to know she doesn’t have to take Greg if she doesn’t want to.

Ainsley replies— All right. On it. Are you okay?

No, I want to crawl in a hole and rot. I love her. I really do.

She shoots over a sad face with a single tear slipping down its cheek. I know. Men don’t forehead kiss like that if they’re not in love. The forehead kiss is a dead giveaway. I’m so sorry, boss. Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to talk to her? Plead your case?

I move faster down the sidewalk, leaving the chaos of the set behind me. No, that’s all right. I already pled my case, and she decided to go. Just tell her I’m sorry things ended this way. And that I wish her all the happiness in the world. She deserves it.

You’re a good one, Leo, Ainsley says. Don’t lose hope. Sooner or later, you’re going to find a woman who realizes she should lock you down and hold on tight.

My stomach churns at the thought of any other woman in my life other than Caroline as I type— Thanks. Text me once you know what’s happening with Greg? So I can make plans to pick him up at the hotel if needed? The glass repair crew is coming at ten a.m. I’m headed back home to let them in now.

Will do , she promises, ending the chat with a thumbs-up emoji.

I slip my phone back into my coat pocket and walk the twenty blocks back to my apartment in a daze, arriving just in time to let the glass repair crew into my place. While they work, I grab a shit coffee from the bodega on the corner and sit on the stoop, watching the world go by.

As is often the case, New York does its best to assure me that beauty and ugliness exist in equal measure—an angry-looking teen boy with a lip piercing goes out of his way to help an old woman carry her grocery cart up the steps to her place, just as a man steps in fresh dog shit and shouts profanities at the animal’s owner.

A businessman trips on a crack in the sidewalk, and the older man next to him reaches out to steady him before he falls, just as a woman shouts from somewhere farther up the street, “Fuck you, Jerry! Fuck you and the pink pony you rode in on. If I don’t get the rent by Friday, I’m setting your clothes on fire.”

A little girl giggles in her stroller, stretching a pudgy hand up to touch a lazy snowflake drifting from the sky, just as a homeless man in a filthy Santa hat skateboards down the street shouting, “Merry Christmas and suck my dick!”

I try to take comfort in the fact that I still have my mental health, but the miserable voice in my head decides to fixate on the fact that I never learned to skateboard, instead. I never learned to skateboard, I’ve never walked the Camino Real in Spain the way I dreamed of as a teen, and I’ve never found love that lasts.

And now, I probably never will.

The text from Ainsley arrives at that exact moment, like a sign from the darkest forces of the universe— Caroline took Greg. He seemed really happy to be going with her. He crawled right into the carrier without missing a beat. I had one of the production drivers drop her at Penn Station. They’re leaving on the one p.m. Vermonter train. In case you want to say goodbye.

I wince at the thought. I can’t watch her go again. It feels like it would kill the last of my will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Thanks, but I’m going to stick close to home today. I’ll see you tomorrow for the next competition. Oh, and would you like tickets to see the Rockettes tomorrow night? I have two tickets I won’t be using. You could ask Trevor.

She sends over a concerned-face emoji. Are you sure? We could go together if you want, and get cupcakes at Magnolia bakery before. It might cheer you up.

I emit a scoffing sound that sends the pigeons pecking at the ground nearby fluttering away. I’d rather have my toenails ripped out by the root, but thanks. I’ll send the tickets to your email. Hope you two have a good time.

Then, I force my creaky, aching skeleton from the stoop, pay the men for fixing my window, and crawl into bed, where I stay for the next twenty hours, a foolish part of me hoping Caroline will change her mind. I wait for a text, a call, but nothing comes, not so much as a picture of Greg in his new home, to assure me he’s settling in okay.

It’s really over.

Forever.

O n Thursday, I return to the set, going about my duties like a zombie animated only by the industry maxim that the show must go on. As far as I’m concerned, the holiday games ended the moment Caroline walked out of my life, but the cast and crew are counting on me to see this through.

But it’s hard to care about anything, let alone a reality show. Eduardo is eliminated in the window washing challenge on Thursday, his fear of heights shutting him down, even though the contestants were all safely strapped to the platforms dangling six stories above the street. Then, it’s down to Jenna and Millie, but not even their compelling new big sister-little sister vibes or the puppies they’re in charge of dressing in holiday sweaters for the semi-finals can warm my cold, frozen heart.

When Millie wins the show, triumphing in an inspiring display of hospitality and creativity as she crafts a Santa’s workshop experience for underprivileged children more magical than anything I’ve ever seen at a mall, I feel…nothing. It’s beautiful, so beautiful that Ainsley and half the crew have tears streaming down their cheeks by the time we wrap filming.

Even Jenna looks emotional as she congratulates Millie and promises to come visit her next Halloween.

But still, I feel nothing.

No pride in my accomplishment.

No inspirational holiday vibes.

Not so much as a spark of hope that I will ever feel less absolutely fucking miserable than I do right now.

A nd then, suddenly, it’s the Twenty-fourth of December, and I’m meeting Ainsley and the camera team to shoot some last-minute B reel of New York decked out in all its holiday splendor.

It’s the last day with the crew. When we return to the project after the New Year, it will just be Ainsley and myself in an editing bay, piecing together a first episode we’ll use to hopefully sell the show to a network.

The thought of pouring through footage of Caroline makes me hope a meteor might crash into the planet before the ball drops on New Years Eve.

“That’s it,” Ainsley says, turning to me with a huff outside the toy store in Rockefeller Center, where the crew is filming a performance by life-sized dancing toy soldiers. She grabs my headset, pulling it off my ears.

“Hey,” I protest, reaching for the device.

She pulls it out of my reach with a scowl. “No, no headset for you. You’re out of here. Go. Now.”

“Go where?” I ask, meeting her scowl with a darker, broodier scowl of my own.

“Go pack a bag, get in your car, and go get your girl,” she says. “If you hurry, you can be in Vermont before dark.”

I sigh. “I’m not going to Vermont.”

“Yes, you are,” she insists. “Caroline is as miserable as you are. Her best friend, Kayla, and I connected on social media. Apparently, Caroline has barely eaten in days.”

I scowl even harder, until a vein in my temple begins to throb. “You did what?”

“We were worried,” she says without missing a beat, not seeming to feel the slightest bit sheepish about her meddling. “You’re our friends, and we care about you. We can’t stand to see you both miserable and wasting away. You’ve lost at least five pounds. If you don’t start taking care of yourself soon, your cheekbones are going to go from sexy to scary.”

“I could cut myself on those cheekbones already, boss,” Trevor says, appearing at her side the way he always does these days, since they officially became an item. He has his girl’s back. It’s a thing I usually appreciate, but not now.

“Fuck off,” I growl, but Trevor only grins.

“See? Look how cranky you are. You need a sandwich and few days in Vermont with the woman you love. We booked you a room. You’re welcome.”

Ainsley grins up at him. “Kayla says Caroline is doing her annual reading of The Night Before Christmas at five p.m. and leaving right after. Once I text her that you’re coming, she’ll find a way to stall her until you get to the inn to talk. Just in case you run into traffic or something.”

“But the roads are clear,” Trevor adds. “I checked a few minutes ago. The highway department plowed and salted the main road into Reindeer Corners, and they aren’t expecting more snow until tomorrow afternoon.”

Ainsley claps her hands. “But it’s supposed to be a big storm. If all goes well, you two will be snowed in together for at least a few days!”

“Why would I want to get snowed in with a woman who told me in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t want me in her life?” I snap. “This isn’t a rom com on the Dumb Love for Dumber People Channel, Ainsley. This is my life.”

Her lips turn down. “Love isn’t dumb, and neither are the people who believe in it. You know that, Leo. And you know it’s time to fight for Caroline. You owe it to yourself.”

“And to us,” Trevor adds. “Working with you has been shit lately, man.”

“I can arrange for you to be fired,” I say, earning a slap on the arm from Ainsley that makes my brows shoot up my forehead.

“Stop it,” she snaps. “You’re better than this. And braver. What’s the worst that can happen? Caroline sticks to her guns, and you come home alone? So what? If she does, you’re no worse off than you are now.”

“But she might be glad to see you,” Trevor adds in a wheedling tone.

“Really glad,” Ainsley chimes in. “Kayla says she’s caught her crying in the staff bathroom four times. Today .”

I wince at the thought. I’m growing accustomed to my own misery, but the thought of Caroline crying in a bathroom makes my chest burn.

But the fact remains…

“Then why hasn’t she called?” I ask. “Surely, she has to know that I’m still crazy about her. All she has to do is tell me she’s changed her mind, and I’ll be on the road to Vermont.”

Ainsley shakes her head. “I don’t know for sure, but Kayla says it has something to do with her family. She couldn’t tell me more, but she said she thinks you two can work things out. She thinks you have to, or Caroline might never be okay again.”

I chew the inside of my lip, torn. “What if I get up there, and she’s pissed to see me? What if Kayla’s wrong, and there’s no way forward?”

“And what if she takes one look at you and runs straight into your arms?” Ainsley asks.

The thought sends a wave of hope surging through me, electrifying my numb, zombified heart.

“Go, man,” Trevor murmurs. “Go get your happily ever after.”

“Fuck,” I curse, but I’m already pulling my battery pack out of my back pocket and pressing it into his waiting hands.

“Yes!” Ainsley cheers. “Go! Run! There isn’t a second to waste!”

I don’t run—the shopping plaza is too crowded—but I speed walk like I’ve never speed walked before.

Back at my place, I’m packed and headed down to my cramped parking spot behind the building in ten minutes.

I brush the snow off the windshield and slide inside, starting the engine. While the car’s warming, I pull up directions to the Reindeer Corners Inn on my phone. I’m about to tap the “go” button when something outside of myself takes control of my thumb, and I tap the “call” button instead.

Heart surging into my throat, I lift the phone to my ear, promising myself that if Caroline answers, I’ll ask her permission to drive up to see her first. She made her wishes abundantly clear. She doesn’t see a way forward for us, she doesn’t want to see me or talk to me or text me, and she’s done nothing in the past week and a half to make me think she’s changed her mind about any of that. It feels wrong to ambush her without at least trying to make contact first.

But if someone else answers, I’ll take it as a sign that I’m clear to do this crazy thing, that luck is on my side and there might actually be hope for a happy ending, after all.

I hold my breath as the phone rings once, twice, and finally a cheery, but blessedly unfamiliar voice chirps, “Reindeer Corners Inn, this is Kayla, how can I help make your holiday more magical?”

I start to hang up, but then that power outside of myself takes control again, and I hear myself say, “Hi, Kayla, it’s Leo Fenton. I got your message from Ainsley, but I need more information. I need you to tell me why Caroline left. I can’t fight for her if I don’t know what kind of enemy I’m up against.”

Kayla makes an anxious, considering sound, then whispers, “Give me two minutes to move to the office line, and I’ll tell you everything. But you’re not going to like it, Leo. It’s bad. Really bad.”