Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Ryder
It’s Christmas Day. Yesterday is a million miles away, and all I want to do is focus on today. No Vincent. No hotel drama. No spreadsheets. Just… peace.
I wake up late, the room still a little too warm from the fire we had going last night, and there’s something about the quiet that feels… different today.
It’s not just the holiday. It’s her.
Sunny’s in the kitchen when I finally roll out of her bed and head down into the hotel. Her hair is a little messy, but still, she somehow looks effortlessly gorgeous.
She’s wearing one of those ridiculous Christmas sweaters that turns her into a Christmas card, and I can’t stop smiling.
Tinsel’s lounging on the counter, eyes half-closed, clearly in full “holiday cat mode.”
“Good morning,” Sunny says, turning with a grin. “Coffee’s almost ready. Help yourself.”
I pull myself together enough not to look like a complete idiot staring at her and grab a mug from the counter. The place is quiet, still, the hotel’s usual hum of activity replaced by the soft rustle of people getting ready for dinner.
We’re not working today. Everyone’s off. Most of the staff have gone home to their families, but for those of us left, we’re all part of something bigger—a little weird family of misfits.
Marjorie is here too, of course, which makes it even more… real.
It’s going to be a different kind of Christmas this year for everyone.
I sit at the table with Sunny, and we talk about random things—small talk. Silly stuff. The kind of conversation that makes time slow down.
Nothing’s rushed. Nothing’s urgent. Just us, hanging out with the people who matter.
Eventually, everyone trickles in. Eli, Dex, and a few of the others who’ve stuck around. It’s not a big crowd, but the whole vibe feels cozy, and that’s exactly what we need.
Marjorie comes in last, balancing a huge tray of mashed potatoes.
“Sorry, I was getting all this together. I didn’t think it was that much,” she says, setting it down with a flourish.
I laugh. “It’s fine. We can always use leftovers.”
The table is full of warmth. It’s not the fancy, extravagant dinner I imagined this hotel would serve, but it’s perfect in its own way.
Everyone’s helping, passing food around, and there’s laughter filling the air. Even Tinsel is on her best behavior… well, mostly.
As we dig in, I realize this is probably the best Christmas I’ve had in years. There’s no pressure. No expectations.
Just people I care about, doing something simple together.
I catch Sunny’s eye across the table, and it’s one of those moments where nothing needs to be said. The smile she gives me makes my chest warm.
It’s a simple smile, the kind that says everything. That says, we’re okay.
I could get used to this.
Marjorie is telling some ridiculous story about Eli trying to decorate the tree with more tinsel than it could handle, and everyone’s laughing. Even the staff who usually keep their distance are relaxed and a little more at ease with each other.
It’s funny how a shared meal can make everyone family.
I take a deep breath, soaking in the moment, watching Sunny as she talks to Dex, her eyes lighting up in that way they always do when she’s passionate about something. She’s so damn full of life.
It’s contagious.
At some point, after the plates are cleared and dessert is brought out —the best Christmas pie I’ve ever tasted —I find myself sitting next to Sunny. She’s leaning against me casually, and I can’t help but slide my arm around her.
This… feels right.
I love it.
The laughter and chatter of the dinner slowly fade as the evening winds down. People start to wander off, satisfied and sleepy from the meal, leaving just the two of us sitting by the fire in the small, cozy lounge.
The warmth of the fire flickers against the cold of the night, but it’s not the fire that’s making me feel this way—calm, content, almost… weightless.
It’s Sunny.
She’s sitting across from me, still wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, and her eyes glinting in that way that’s equal parts mischievous and sweet.
It’s hard to believe this is real.
There’s a quiet between us, a comfortable pause in the noise of the day. And then, she stands up suddenly, her smile playful.
“Okay, I know we didn’t talk about doing presents, but I can’t just not give you something.”
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the armchair.
“You know, I didn’t plan on getting you anything either. But if you’re giving me a present,” I pause, reaching into my pocket, “thank goodness I’m prepared.”
She walks over to the small Christmas tree in the corner, grabs a gift wrapped in simple brown paper with a red bow, and hands it to me with a wink. I take it, noticing the small tag attached with my name in her messy handwriting.
“Go ahead,” she says, watching me expectantly.
I rip the paper off, trying to maintain some level of composure, but inside, I’m already bracing myself for the surprise.
When the wrapping falls away, it’s a simple leather journal. Not fancy or extravagant, but the kind of thing that looks well-loved already.
“I thought you might need a place to write down all your big plans for this place,” she says softly, sitting down beside me. “I know you’ve been working nonstop to make this hotel something… well, something that means something.”
I run my fingers over the soft leather, feeling the warmth of her words. It’s thoughtful, personal. So very Sunny.
“It’s perfect,” I say, the sincerity hitting me harder than I expect.
I reach into my pocket and pull out an envelope, something I’ve been holding onto for a while. I don’t say anything. Just hand it over to her.
She looks at me, confused. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” I say softly.
When the check falls into her hands, her breath catches in her throat. She stares it with pure confusion. Her eyes flicker over the number, and then they lift to mine, wide with disbelief.
And I see it—the moment it hits her.
“What is this?”
I let the silence hang for a moment, watching her. I don’t need to say anything else. The check speaks for itself.
One million dollars. From her aunt’s trust fund.
Her fingers tremble as she holds it in her hands. “This… this is mine?”
I nod slowly, despite the tightening in my chest. “It’s from Evie. She left it to you. She suspected Vincent and siphoned this off for you. For you to use, however, you need to. It’s all yours, Sunny.”
She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at the check in shock. Her breathing is shallow, she’s trying to process it, trying to figure out how this could be real.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispers. Her eyes flick back to the number on the check, then up at me, waiting for me to tell her it’s a mistake. “I… I never expected this. I can use it to make the hotel exactly what it needs to be. I can carry on what my aunt started.”
“You can make it everything you’ve ever wanted.”
I take a deep breath, and as I do, I pull something else from my pocket. It’s been in there all evening, and I’ve been waiting for the right moment.
I’m not sure if now’s the moment, but it feels right. More right than anything has in a long time.
I slide the small, velvet box out and place it carefully in front of her.
Her eyes flicker down, and her brow furrows. “What… what is this now?”
I let the moment hang between us, feeling the calm settling into my chest, a long-forgotten warmth.
“Okay, I know this is a lot already,” I begin, “but… I’m not just doing this for the money.” I can’t help but grin at my own ridiculousness. “Though, if it helps, you’re technically one of the richest women I know now.”
She raises an eyebrow, a tiny, nervous laugh escaping her lips. “Is this your way of saying you’re with me for the cash?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Absolutely not. But I wouldn’t mind you funding my retirement someday…”
Her laugh grows, light and bright. My heart aches for her. For the life we can have together.
“I’m serious, Sunny,” I continue, “I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing it because I want you to have everything you deserve. Because I want to spend every single day with you, making this crazy hotel, and this crazy life, work.”
She stares at me for a long time, eyes wide, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. But then the look on her face softens, and something shifts between us.
“I’m asking you…” I say, as I open the box to reveal a simple, beautiful ring. Not too flashy, just something that feels her. “Will you marry me, Sunny? I want to make this real. I want us to build something together. No more running. No more hiding. Just… us.”
For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are locked on the ring, her mouth parted slightly. I hold my breath, waiting for her answer, trying to steady myself. This is it. This is the moment.
And then, finally, her eyes meet mine. They’re glistening, soft, but full of something I can’t quite place.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “Yes. A million times yes.”
And the strain I didn’t even realize I was under disappears. I can breathe again. I can live again because she’s saying yes. She’s choosing me.
She’s choosing us.
I slide the ring on her finger, the world suddenly so much brighter, and pull her into my arms. And just like that, the fire in the room isn’t the only thing warming me up.
I see her pulse jump in her throat, her fingers tightening around the edges of the check, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s all just too much.
I wouldn’t blame her if it were.