Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Ryder
“Sunny?” I ask Dex as I pass him at the bar.
“In the dining room,” he shoots back with a playful smirk on his lips that I do everything I can to ignore.
I’m not getting caught up in that shit today.
My mind is already spinning with everything else that needs my attention—financials, investors, Evie’s last emails—but right now I need to know what we’re doing next.
There are more Christmas plans. I can see lights everywhere.
I push through the door to the dining room and find her at the far end, sitting on a stool, untangling a mess of fairy lights.
The soft hum of Christmas carols fills the space, but the atmosphere feels off. She has a look in her eyes, as if she’s about to short-circuit along with the lights.
She doesn’t look up as I approach, her focus entirely on the strands of wire in front of her. The usual energy she exudes is gone, replaced by something mechanical, distant.
“Sunny,” I start.
“Yeah?” She responds without looking up, the word flat, not even a hint of warmth.
I watch her for a moment longer, waiting for more, anything that resembles the woman I’ve gotten to know. The one who threw herself into every little detail of this hotel, who smiled even when everything was crumbling.
But this Sunny is distant. Closed off.
I don’t like it.
“I need to know what’s next,” I say, attempting to soften my tone. “You know, for the budget and everything…”
I pause, giving her a moment to respond, to look at me. But she doesn’t.
Her hands move with robotic precision, twisting one strand of lights into another, her expression blank.
“Right, hold on,” she says politely, but it’s devoid of any real engagement. “Just, uh, give me a minute. I’m almost done with this.”
Her words slice through me, and I feel the walls she’s built between us grow thicker, the gap more pronounced.
What the hell is going on?
I take a slow breath, trying to recalibrate. I don’t want to be a pushy asshole, but I need her. We need to be on the same page if we’re going to make this hotel work.
I shift my weight, watching her fingers fumble with the lights. Her movements are sharp and pointed, as if she’s trying to keep the world at arm’s length.
This moment is so different from the ones before it. The tension is sickening, and I’m having a hard time telling whether it’s something I’ve done or if she’s just decided to retreat into herself.
“Sunny,” I try again, calmer now. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to talk about the direction we’re heading in. We’re both juggling a lot, but this place needs us both. I can’t do it without you.”
I can see her jaw tighten, but she doesn’t respond.
I move closer, trying to close the distance between us. “Look, if I said something or did something—”
Before I can finish, a voice from behind me interrupts, bright and eager.
“Ryder Hale? Is that you?”
I turn, and there’s a woman, mid-forties, standing in the doorway with a small suitcase at her side. She’s smiling broadly, and there is a twinkle in her eye as she practically rushes toward me.
I don’t know her, but her enthusiasm is unmistakable. She’s beaming at me with recognition in her eyes.
Uh-oh.
“Ryder, I can’t believe it’s you,” she gushes, utterly oblivious to the tense air hanging between Sunny and me.
“You were such a little heartthrob in Snowed in With Santa.” Her tone rises a few decibels, and I immediately feel the flush of heat creeping up my neck.
“My daughters loved that movie. They used to watch it every Christmas. You were the sweetest little Christmas prince.”
I can see the shift in Sunny’s posture from the corner of my eye. Her hands, still holding the lights, freeze. Her gaze flicks to me with a mixture of surprise and something I can’t quite read—amusement, maybe, or disbelief.
Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything.
The woman continues, oblivious to Sunny standing right there, watching. “I’ve said so many times about how you were the perfect prince! We watched that movie on repeat! What are the odds of running into you like this?”
I force a tight smile, hoping the flood of embarrassment doesn’t show.
“Small world,” I manage, but it’s clear I’m floundering a little.
The woman laughs. “I had to double-check when I saw you in the lobby! It’s really you. Anyway, sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself—my name’s Lisa. I’m checking in for the weekend. I just had to say hi. I’ve never met a Christmas Prince before!”
Sunny doesn’t say anything. She’s still standing there, eyes locked on me. Her gaze is sharp now, her focus almost unnerving. There’s no trace of the warmth that usually fills her—just a cool, stern expression.
Yep, she’s been caught off guard and doesn’t know what to make of any of this.
I give a slight nod to Lisa. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, Lisa. I’m glad you enjoyed the movie.”
My smile feels forced, tight. This is not how I wanted today to go.
Lisa grins and waves as she turns to head to the check-in desk.
“Thank you so much! And you were the sweetest little prince. Don’t forget it!” she calls over her shoulder, her voice carrying as she walks away.
The second she’s out of earshot, I turn back to Sunny. Her face is taut, but her eyes are a little wider than usual, her jaw clenched.
I open my mouth to speak, but Sunny beats me to it.
“Seriously?” she says sharply, cutting through the room. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, her hands grabbing at the lights once again. “You couldn’t tell me about that?”
She gestures vaguely in the direction of the door where Lisa disappeared.
I can feel her words settling over me. I’m not ready to face this right now.
Or ever.
I don’t know why I can’t leave Snowed in With Santa behind, no matter where I go or what I do.
“I didn’t think it mattered,” I reply, my words not as smooth as I want them to be.
“Well, it does matter,” she snaps, her eyes flashing now as she finally looks at me, her expression hardened. “You’re a damn Christmas Prince to some people. And yet you act like Christmas is the worst thing in the world.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I never imagined this would come up, let alone in front of her. This is just weird.
“I wasn’t hiding it from you,” I say, but the words fall flat.
“Then why does it feel like you are?” she retorts, strained. “You’re always holding back, keeping things close to your chest. We’re supposed to be working together. But you can’t even trust me with the little stuff?”
I flinch, the truth in her words cutting deeper than I want to admit. But how could I tell her when she’s so Christmas-obsessed? It would have only become a thing.
And now, with her staring at me, waiting for me to explain, I realize just how much damage that’s done.
“I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” I say, trying to smooth over the tension between us. “It’s just, this whole thing with the hotel, with everything going on, and that’s in the past. I was a child. I don’t see why it matters at all.”
She offers me a one-shouldered shrug as a smirk plays on her lips. “Well, now I need to find out more about who the Christmas Prince is.”