Chapter 19
Amayah hadn’t planned on bringing Luke along for her shopping trip.
But then she’d seen him on the phone. She hadn’t heard the words, only the sharp edge in his voice—and it had left something unsettled in him. Something guarded.
At that moment, she felt convinced he needed some Christmas cheer.
So instead of ending their interview, only for him to walk away and for her to possibly never see him again, she’d surprised herself by inviting him to go with her.
He’d blinked, startled. Then nodded.
Now they walked side by side through the Mall of America, swallowed by the sparkling excess of the season—garlands cascading from railings, massive ornaments spinning lazily from the ceiling, and holiday music echoing through the crowd like warm breath against glass.
It felt good to walk with him here. Unexpectedly good.
And the longer they were together, the more he seemed to loosen up.
They paused in one of the department stores near a display of coats, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over rows of puffy jackets and knit scarves.
“I think this would be perfect for Eli,” she said, holding up a navy winter coat. “His jacket is entirely too short on his arms, but I think this one should fit. And these boots look like they’d survive a Minnesota tundra.”
Luke inspected the soles. “They could survive a small apocalypse.”
She laughed. “Good. That seems appropriate for their level of chaos.”
They moved from store to store, comparing sizes, debating colors, imagining delighted reactions. Luke surprised her with his thoughtfulness—suggesting thicker socks, even adding fuzzy gloves shaped like polar bear paws.
“You’re enjoying this,” she teased as they walked past a store selling roasted nuts.
“I’m discovering my inner Santa. This should concern everyone.”
They passed a small display featuring photos from classic holiday movies filmed around Minneapolis. Amayah stopped mid-step.
“Oh my goodness.” She pointed past the row of storefronts. “They filmed part of Jingle All the Way right over there.” Her face lit up. “I wore that VHS tape out when I was a kid. Arnold trying to get that Turbo Man toy? That movie was pure perfection.”
“Your taste in cinema is both questionable and delightful.”
She laughed softly. “I take that as a compliment.”
The hum of shoppers faded into background noise as they drifted a little farther from the main flow of foot traffic, the air cooler here, the glow of twinkle lights softer.
Their conversation slipped easily from movies to childhood traditions—the ornaments they still hung every year, the Christmas foods they refused to give up, the moments that had quietly shaped who they’d become.
Amayah found herself lingering on the way Luke listened. Not just politely but intentionally, as if her memories mattered.
She glanced up at him. “What are you doing for Christmas this year?”
A shadow flickered across his expression. “Going home. I’ve never missed a Christmas with my mom and dad.”
“I pray you’ll have a great reunion this year.”
“I appreciate that. They’re good parents. I’ve never doubted that.” He shifted. “How about you?”
Her throat tightened. “My mom and her new husband decided they wanted to spend Christmas in Europe this year.”
“Did they invite you along?”
She shook her head, remembering the sting of that phone call. “They did not. But that’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can survive Christmas alone.”
At once she remembered how different her life looked than she’d planned.
She was supposed to be married with children by now.
Instead, she was mostly alone with only her social media followers to keep her company.
But she didn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want sympathy.
What no one realized was that the rise to the top could be lonely.
The cold air brushed her cheeks. The lights reflected faintly in his eyes. Suddenly, she noticed the space between them—or the lack of space.
They stood close. Luke’s gaze lingered on her.
Her heart seemed to slow and race all at once.
The moment felt different.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just . . . present.
The quiet between them wasn’t empty—it had weight, warmth, a gentle thrum she felt in her chest more than her ears. Luke’s eyes held hers, steady and searching, like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
She remembered Miranda’s teasing voice—You two have chemistry you could bottle and sell—and how she’d brushed it off.
But standing here now, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath, Amayah couldn’t deny it anymore. Not when he looked at her like this. Not when her pulse had slipped into a rhythm she hadn’t felt in years.
He wasn’t reaching for her.
He wasn’t pulling away either.
He was simply . . . here.
And somehow, that steadiness—that patience—made something inside her loosen. Made her brave in a way she hadn’t expected to be again.
A tiny thought flickered through her: If I don’t move now, I’ll regret it. If I don’t trust this moment, I’ll miss it.
Her heartbeat fluttered once, soft and insistent.
Without planning it, she let herself lean toward him—inch by careful inch—drawn not by desire alone, but by the quiet truth that she wanted to know what it felt like to choose something good.
The world around them softened.
The breath between them shortened.
And then her lips touched his.
Soft.
Warm.
Undeniably real.
A door she hadn’t realized she’d been afraid to open . . . finally, gently, swung wide.
She pulled back almost immediately, breath unsteady, surprise widening her eyes. “I should probably apologize for that. I don’t usually do that. Ever. I don’t actually know what got into me.”
Luke didn’t step back.
And somehow, that said more than words ever could.
Luke forgot how to breathe.
Not because the kiss was shocking.
Because the moment had been perfect.
Every rational warning bell in his mind clanged uselessly as warmth flooded through him. He wanted—desperately—a world where none of this was complicated.
A world where he wasn’t here under false pretenses.
Where he hadn’t come to take something from her.
It might be too late to retreat from that, but he’d deal with that later. Right now, maybe he should simply enjoy this moment.
“No apologies. Please don’t say you’re sorry.” He reached for her hand, the contact sending a quiet spark through his chest.
They walked through the mall with shopping bags in one hand and their fingers intertwined in the other.
“We should be working, shouldn’t we?” She glanced at him sideways. “I mean . . . I know you’re profiling me for a story. Yet we never seem to get our interview done.”
Guilt clawed at his ribs.
He couldn’t ignore this, could he? Doing so wasn’t wise. Thinking that might work had just been a flight of fancy.
It was time to tell her the truth.
“Amayah,” he began, voice betraying the words forming behind it, “there’s something I need to tell you—”
Before he could explain further, Amayah’s phone rang.
She checked the number and exhaled. “It’s Miranda. One sec.”
She stepped aside, lowering her voice. Luke wasn’t trying to listen, but pieces drifted back through the mall noise.
“No, not yet . . .”
A pause.
“I know, but the inspection has to clear first.”
Another pause, softer, almost protective.
“Yes, I still want it to stay quiet.”
He frowned slightly.
Inspection? Stay quiet? About what?
She returned a moment later wearing a smile that didn’t match the tension in her eyes.
“You were saying something?” she started.
Luke searched for the moment again but bit back the words.
He wanted the chance to tell her the truth.
But the world refused to give it to him.