Chapter 21: Missed Flight

Ellie stood on the side of the street with her suitcase digging into her ankle and the cold biting through her coat, which suddenly felt like it had betrayed her by being decorative instead of functional.

Of course this was happening.

Her phone glowed in her hand, accusingly blank except for the little spinning wheel that had become her enemy. Cancelled. Cancelled. Cancelled again. Every driver in a ten block radius had apparently formed a union against her personally.

She huffed out a breath and paced half a step, then stopped because the sidewalk was uneven and she was already in a mood.

“Who does he think he is,” she muttered to no one, because talking to herself was cheaper than therapy and currently more effective. “You can’t go. Like I’m a coat he forgot to hang up. Like I exist for events and disappear when inconvenient.”

Her chest felt tight, the anger sharp and fizzy. Christmas party. HaleCare. As if a ballroom and name tags could replace Ethan’s house, Hannah’s cinnamon rolls, Maisie trying to climb her like a jungle gym. As if Christmas was a box you checked instead of something you showed up for.

Her phone buzzed. Hope flared.

Cancelled.

“Oh, come on,” she snapped, staring at the screen. “I am not asking to be driven to the moon. This is an airport. This is your whole business model.”

She tried again. Nothing. Tried a different app. Still nothing. She felt ridiculous standing there, luggage at her feet, thumb jabbing at glass while her life hovered in limbo. The house behind her loomed, quiet and smug, full of people who were not currently being told they could not go home.

Margaret and Lucy were out. Of course they were. Probably somewhere warm, sipping something expensive, completely unaware that Ellie was about to lose her mind on the sidewalk.

She laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Unbelievable. Truly. I marry into old money and I still can’t get a ride.”

Another cancellation chimed.

That did it.

Her anger shifted, slipping into something more frantic, more vulnerable. She didn’t want to go back inside. She didn’t want to explain herself again. She didn’t want Julian’s calm voice and rational tone and that look he got when he thought he was being fair.

She wanted to leave. Now.

Her fingers dug into her purse, shoving past lip balm, crumpled receipts, a rogue bobby pin. Her hand closed around stiff paper and she froze.

Caleb’s card.

She stared at it for a second, guilt and relief tangling in her stomach. This was not ideal. This was also happening. She didn’t have time to overthink it. Overthinking was how you ended up stuck.

She hit call before she could talk herself out of it.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Caleb oh thank God,” Ellie blurted, words tripping over each other. “I’m so sorry for calling you, believe me I won’t if I have any other choice. I tried booking an Uber but no one is accepting and I’m standing outside with my suitcase and it’s Christmas adjacent and I’m losing my mind.”

There was a pause. Just long enough for her to regret everything.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah yeah,” she said quickly. “It’s me. Hi. Can you drive me to the airport? I’m sorry. I promise I’ll pay you back. Or buy you coffee for the rest of your natural life. Or both.”

“I’m coming,” he said.

The line went dead.

Ellie stared at her phone, then let out a shaky laugh that surprised her with how close it was to tears. She wiped her eyes with the back of her glove and squared her shoulders.

Fine. This was fine. She was getting to the airport. She was going home.

And Julian Hale could keep his party.

---

Thirty minutes later, Ellie was in Caleb’s truck having what could only be described as a full-bodied emotional event.

She cried loudly. She cried with commitment. She cried with the kind of theatrical intensity that would have earned her notes from a director if anyone were watching. Her nose was running. She blew it aggressively into a wad of tissues she’d found in her purse, then immediately needed another one.

“I missed it,” she said, voice wobbling as she gestured vaguely toward the airport they had already passed. “I missed my flight. And all the other flights. All of them. Every single flight to Toronto is booked because apparently the entire country decided to go home at the same time.”

Caleb kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, posture relaxed in a way that felt unfairly calm.

“I could take the long way,” she continued, tears streaking down her face unchecked. “I could rent a car or take a bus or a train or a series of morally questionable rideshares, but I won’t make it in time for Christmas and Ethan will lose his mind. He already thinks I treat my life like a trust fall exercise.”

She sniffed hard, then laughed once through tears. “He’s not wrong, but still.”

Caleb nodded, listening. Really listening. No interruptions. No fixes yet.

“There’s always another Christmas,” he said gently.

Ellie sobbed harder.

Caleb winced slightly. “Okay. Not helpful.”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “Where do you want to go next?”

She wiped her nose again, then shook her head immediately. “Not the mansion. I am not going back there. I’d rather sleep on a bench.”

He hesitated. “Forgive me for giving unsolicited advice,” he said carefully, “but you might need to talk to Julian. Try to settle things.”

“No,” Ellie said, fast and firm. “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to explain myself to someone who treats my life like a scheduling conflict.”

She stared out the window, jaw tight, then added more quietly, “Can you bring me to a hotel?”

Caleb nodded. “Hotel it is.”

He pulled up outside Ridge Motel and helped her unload her suitcase. Before she got out, he paused.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said. “Anything. Even if it means spending Christmas with my family.”

Ellie smiled at him, small and tired and sincere. “Thank you,” she said. “Really.”

She checked into the hotel, rode the elevator up in silence, and unlocked her room. The second the door closed behind her, the quiet rushed in.

Ellie dropped her suitcase, kicked off her shoes, dove face-first onto the bed, and cried into the pillow until the tears finally burned themselves out.

---

Julian sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, phone in his hand, screen dark and unhelpful.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

He had replayed the conversation enough times to know exactly where it went wrong. He had stepped out of line. Christmas had not been part of the plan. It had not been on his internal script. He had been fine with her going home. Encouraging, even. He remembered thinking it would simplify things. Space. Clean lines. Temporary absence.

Then he had walked into his own house and found her laughing with Caleb.

Julian exhaled through his nose, annoyed all over again, even though he was fully aware that irritation was inefficient at this point. Nothing about that scene had been inappropriate. He knew Caleb. Knew him well enough to know he would not touch a married woman. Ellie had not invited him there. She had been helping with the heater. That was it. Rationally, there was nothing to object to.

Emotionally, his brain had decided to light itself on fire anyway.

He turned the phone over in his hand. Call her. Do not call her. Calling her would escalate. Not calling her would be interpreted as indifference. Both options were flawed.

He told himself, again, that the Christmas party was part of the agreement. Public appearances were part of the agreement. He had not invented that clause out of spite. He had not forced it on her. He had simply stated a fact. From his perspective, it had been reasonable.

From hers, apparently, it had been unacceptable.

Julian leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere between reason and regret, something tight had lodged itself in his chest. He did not name it. He had no interest in naming it.

Ellie had a life that existed entirely without him. Toronto. A family and a house full of noise and warmth and obligations that were not contractual. He knew that if given a clean choice, she would choose that life every time. The only reason she was here was because of paperwork and promises and timing.

That realization sat poorly.

He shifted, jaw tightening. This was absurd. He was not entitled to exclusivity. He was not entitled to her holidays. He was not entitled to anything beyond what they had agreed on. The fact that the idea of her leaving unsettled him was irrelevant. Temporary arrangements were temporary by design.

Still, the image of her walking away with her suitcase had not left him.

His phone rang.

Julian glanced down, expecting her name and already preparing his tone.

Caleb.

He frowned, then answered. “What.”

“She didn’t make it on time,” Caleb said without preamble. “Missed her flight. Everything’s booked. She’s at the Ridge Motel right now.”

Julian was on his feet before the sentence finished. He grabbed his keys from the dresser, irritation flaring bright and immediate.

“Of course she is,” he muttered. “Because God forbid she ever arrive anywhere without needing to be retrieved.”

He was already halfway down the hall, coat in hand, annoyance layering itself into something sharper and more urgent.

This was ridiculous.

He locked the door behind him and headed for the car, telling himself he was doing this because it was practical. Because it was late. Because she should not be alone. Because this was, technically, still his responsibility.

And absolutely not because the thought of her staying there without him had suddenly become unbearable.

Chapter 22: Traditions

Julian stood outside Room 225 and took in his surroundings with the resigned focus of a man mentally cataloguing health code violations.

The carpet looked damp. The lighting flickered. If a crime podcast ever needed a setting, this place would not even need staging.

He exhaled through his nose.

Why would Caleb drive Elena here? Of all places. Of all questionable life choices, this ranked high.

Julian knocked, then immediately stepped to the side of the door. He was not an amateur. If Ellie saw him through the peephole, she would simply refuse to engage out of principle.

He knocked again.

The doorknob jiggled. The door opened a few inches, the chain still firmly attached.

“Ellie,” he said.

“Go away,” Ellie replied, already pushing the door closed.

He turned and walked back toward the reception desk.

Julian sighed. Calmly. This was not a moment that would benefit from logic or persuasion. Ellie was in a closed emotional system right now. Any argument would bounce off and ricochet back into his face.

“Give me the keys to 225,” he said.

“I’m not giving you—”

“Your property has approximately fifty hazard violations and should be reported to the municipality,” Julian said mildly.

The receptionist snorted. “Sure. Who do you think you are?”

“Julian Hale,” he replied. “And the woman in 225 is my wife.”

She squinted at him. “Okay. Then I’m Margaret Hale. In what world would a Hale step foot in here?”

Julian raised an eyebrow and slid his ID across the counter.

She stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the ID.

“Well,” she said slowly, pushing the key toward him, “this is officially the strangest Christmas Eve of my career. Want some tea?”

“No,” Julian said, taking the key. “Merry Christmas.”

He turned and walked away.

Back at Room 225, Julian unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Ellie was on the bed, curled slightly inward, sniffing with stubborn determination.

He closed the door behind him and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What do you want,” Ellie asked without looking at him.

“Let’s go home,” Julian said.

“I’m supposed to go home,” she replied. “In Toronto.”

Julian glanced around the room.

Was that mold climbing the wall?

“I will use every connection I have to get you on a plane tomorrow,” he said.

Ellie sat up. “Tomorrow is the twenty-fourth. I checked. Every flight to Toronto is booked. Don’t tell me you own a private jet.”

Julian allowed himself a thin smirk. “Getting there.”

Ellie flopped back onto the bed.

He hesitated, then placed his hand on her shoulder. When she did not shrug it off, he let his thumb move slowly, absent-minded. This was not comfort. This was self-regulation.

He searched for something to say that did not sound rehearsed, manipulative, or sentimental. Ellie looked fully prepared to remain in this room indefinitely if it meant not engaging with him.

Julian sighed. There was no clean exit here.

So he tried something reckless.

“I’ve never really spent Christmas the way most people do,” he said. “It was always parties. Social obligations. Margaret enjoys her galas.”

Ellie snorted. “Right. Poor little Julian Hale probably had his own Christmas tree with gifts just for him.”

“My first Christmas with Margaret was when I was seven,” Julian said. “She introduced me to everyone. My father and Vivienne asked her why I was there.”

Ellie turned her head, finally looking at him. “What about the years before that?”

Julian paused. This was not territory he enjoyed revisiting. It was inefficient. But at the moment, clarity mattered more than comfort.

“At home,” he said evenly. “With my mother passed out drunk on the couch.”

Ellie sat very still on the motel bed, the blanket bunched under her fingers, while Julian’s words landed and then kept landing.

Six.

That number lodged in her chest and refused to move. Six was Maisie’s age. Six was missing front teeth and sticky hands and believing adults always came back. Ellie could not picture Maisie alone in any room for longer than five minutes without the world rearranging itself to fix it. The idea of six-year-old Julian navigating anything by himself made her stomach hurt in a way that had nothing to do with sympathy and everything to do with instinct.

“So,” Julian said, quieter now, less sharp around the edges, “that’s how I view Christmas. I shouldn’t have expected you to think of it that way too.”

Ellie nodded, but her brain was still sprinting ahead of the conversation. This explained so much. The way he measured everything. The way affection came with terms and conditions. The way kindness made him suspicious. You didn’t grow up believing people stayed unless you paid for it.

She looked at him, really looked. Not the suit. Not the posture. The man who had learned early that warmth was unreliable.

“Where’s your mom now?” she asked gently.

Julian shrugged, casual in a way that felt practiced. “I don’t know. I never checked. I was six the last time I saw her. She left me at the neighbors’. Went with her boyfriend.”

Ellie inhaled sharply before she could stop herself. Her chest felt too tight. Her heart did that stupid thing where it wanted to wrap itself around something broken and shield it from the world. She hated that instinct sometimes. It made her reckless.

She imagined Maisie waiting on a porch with a too-big coat, trusting someone would come back. Her eyes burned.

Julian kept going, voice steady. “I’m not telling you this because I want pity. Or to convince you to stay. I just needed you to understand why Christmas feels like any other day to me.” He paused. “And also, I was pissed off when I found Caleb in our home.”

Ellie frowned, processing, then tilted her head slightly. “Are you jealous?”

“I wouldn’t call it jealousy,” Julian said.

Ellie bit the inside of her cheek. Of course he wouldn’t. He would call it concern. Or disruption. Or breach of protocol. Anything but the thing that involved wanting something without a ledger attached.

She exhaled slowly, then surprised both of them.

“Don’t bother finding me a flight,” she said. “I can go home after the holidays. I’ll call Ethan. He’ll understand.”

Julian blinked. “What are you planning to do?”

Ellie stood before she could overthink it. If she stayed seated, she might start negotiating feelings and that never ended well with him. She held out her hand, palm up, steady.

“Let’s go home,” she said. “Before I change my mind.”

She didn’t say what she was thinking. That Christmas could be rebuilt. That memories weren’t fixed. That maybe this didn’t have to be another thing he survived instead of lived.

---

Ellie slid into the passenger seat while Julian folded her suitcase into the trunk. He closed it, walked around, and got in, but didn’t start the car right away.

“I can’t believe Caleb brought you to that trashcan,” Julian said, staring straight ahead.

Ellie laughed, the sound still a little raw but lighter than before. “To be fair, I did the searching. Caleb warned me. Multiple times. I was just feeling stubborn and emotionally committed to bad decisions.”

Julian hummed, which in his language meant he disagreed but would revisit it later. The engine stayed off.

Ellie glanced at him. Then waited. Then tilted her head.

“So,” she said, “what happened between you and Caleb?”

“What do you mean?”

“It feels like you have history,” she said, waving a hand vaguely between them. “The tense kind. With subtext.”

Julian sighed. “Caleb and I were best friends. We grew apart. I moved out of town. We lost contact. It happens to people.”

Ellie nodded, even though she had no idea if that was true. She didn’t really have friends. She had coworkers who disappeared after closing night and acquaintances who forgot her name. She filed the thought away and didn’t push.

Instead, she grinned. “So it was true. You were arrested once.”

Julian raised an eyebrow, then reached for his phone. He scrolled with intent, found what he was looking for, and turned the screen toward her.

Ellie burst out laughing.

Eighteen-year-old Julian stared back at her from a mugshot, hair messy, grin wide and unrepentant. He looked annoyingly charming. Worse, he looked free.

“I wasn’t naked,” Julian said flatly. “People enjoy embellishing.”

“You’re smiling,” Ellie said, still laughing. “You look so happy.”

“I was high on weed,” he replied. “That tends to improve morale.”

Ellie studied the photo, her chest doing a strange little flip. This version of him felt almost fictional. “Are you telling me you weren’t always this…” she gestured at him, “…Julian?”

“Of course not,” he said, starting the car. “I had my phase.”

“And that phase included running naked downtown.”

“I was not naked,” Julian snapped.

Ellie laughed. “Okay, fine. What else.”

He exhaled, clearly indulging her. “Weed. I tried coke once. Not enjoyable. Parties. Girls. Anything a teenager with too much access and too much money could do.”

“Girls,” Ellie repeated.

“Told you. A phase.”

“So how many are we talking about?”

“I will not answer that,” Julian said, then glanced at her. “How about you?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t have that. Ethan was just starting his career so I didn’t want to cause problems.”

“Nothing?” he pressed. “Secret boyfriends?”

“Oh,” Ellie said lightly. “I never had one.”

---

Julian hit the brakes hard enough to make the car protest.

He hadn’t planned on stopping. His foot had just reacted before his brain could talk it out. He stared through the windshield for half a second, then turned to look at Ellie, who was blinking at him calmly.

He’d had a hunch she didn’t have much experience. That part hadn’t surprised him. Ellie carried herself with a strange mix of confidence and improvisation that suggested gaps filled with bravado. But zero experience. None at all. That had not been on the list of plausible outcomes when he asked a casual question about her past.

They had been talking about mundane things. Childhood stories. Stupid arrests. Weed. The conversation had been rare and oddly comfortable. He had not expected to be blindsided.

“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that you agreed to marry me, yet you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

“Yeah.”

He stared at her. She stared back. No embarrassment. No hedging. No dramatic reveal. Just a fact, delivered with the same tone she’d use to say she didn’t drink milk.

“…Girlfriend?” he tried.

“I’m straight, Julian.”

The fact that she sounded completely unbothered was what sent him spiraling. Not upset. Not defensive. Just honest.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely baffled. “If I’d known, I would never have asked you to do this.”

She frowned. “I didn’t know it was a big deal.”

“It is,” he said immediately. “I suddenly feel as though I’ve taken advantage of you.”

Ellie looked at him flatly. “That doesn’t mean I’m naive. Besides, I didn’t even know what I was missing.”

That did not help.

“So you never even considered trying it. Just for experience?” he pressed.

She waved him off. “I don’t have the time, the energy, or the money for that. Don’t make it weird.”

“It is weird,” Julian said. “Here I was thinking I was the weird one.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Ellie replied.

Julian sighed and eased his foot back onto the gas, the car rolling forward again. His jaw tightened as the road blurred back into motion.

He did not like this information. Not because of what it said about her, but because of what it implied about him. He prided himself on fairness. On informed consent. On transactions where both parties understood the terms. This felt unbalanced in a way he hadn’t accounted for.

Ellie had stepped into this arrangement with curiosity and trust, not leverage. She hadn’t been trading up. She hadn’t been hedging. She had just said yes.

He hated that.

The idea that this might cost her something intangible, something she hadn’t even had the chance to want yet, sat poorly in his chest. He told himself, firmly, that emotions were clouding his judgment. That regret was unproductive. That she was an adult who made her own choices.

And still, the thought surfaced, unwelcome but persistent.

The best thing for her might be to let her go.

Before this arrangement took something from her that couldn’t be itemized or returned.

Chapter 23: Merry Christmas, Ellie

It was the twenty-fourth, and Ellie had vanished sometime after breakfast.

Julian was not concerned. She had commandeered two members of the house staff, announced she was going Christmas shopping, and declared that she did not care if the stores were packed because she liked Christmas and this was the first year she had money to buy presents properly. She had said it with the reckless joy of someone who had been budgeting hope for years.

He had pointed out, reasonably, that the timing was inefficient. She had waved him off.

So he let her go. He even handed over his car keys to the staff, which felt generous and slightly unhinged on his part. If nothing else, it bought him a quiet house and several uninterrupted hours to arrange her gift.

Julian was not sentimental. He did not wander malls pondering emotions. Gifts, historically, were obligations handled by assistants or Seb’s pointed reminders. But this felt different. This was, at minimum, an appropriate occasion for something deliberate.

Ellie returned mid-afternoon in a flurry of bags and energy, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

“I need the bedroom,” she announced. “And I don’t want to be disturbed.”

He had opened his mouth to object out of habit, then closed it again. “Fine,” he said. “I wasn’t planning on existing in there.”

She disappeared inside and stayed there for hours.

When Julian eventually checked on her, the room was quiet.

Ellie lay sprawled across the bed, still dressed, tape dispenser near her hand, ribbons tangled in her hair. She was asleep in the deep, unguarded way of someone who had exhausted herself doing something she cared about.

He stepped closer, careful not to wake her.

The bed was covered in wrapped gifts. Neatly done. Color-coded. Labeled in her looping handwriting.

Ethan. Hannah. Maisie.

Those made sense. He had expected those. She had spoken about them enough that their presence felt inevitable.

What he had not expected were the others.

Gifts for the house staff. Multiple ones. Smaller packages with names he recognized, and some he did not. Children’s names. Thoughtful variety. No repetition. No obligation.

There was one for Seb.

Julian stared at that one longer than the rest.

He looked back at Ellie, her face relaxed, lashes casting shadows, one hand curled near her cheek. She had spent her money and her time on people who had not asked for it. People who were not part of any agreement. People who would never be in a position to repay her.

She had done this quietly. Without announcement. Without expecting credit.

The certainty settled in his chest, heavy and unwelcome.

She deserved better than this arrangement. Better than being tied to him out of convenience and paperwork. Better than a life where affection was negotiated and holidays came with terms.

Julian reached for the curtains and closed them gently, dimming the room. He picked up the tape dispenser and set it on the dresser so it would not dig into her hand when she woke.

Then he left, closing the door softly behind him and letting Ellie sleep.

---

When Ellie woke up, she did not ease into the day.

She launched herself into it.

Julian observed from a safe distance as she went through the house with an armful of wrapped gifts, hair still slightly wild from sleep, enthusiasm fully operational. She moved fast, greeting people by name, apologizing for interrupting, insisting it would only take a second. It never took only a second.

The staff were startled at first. Then smiling. Then openly delighted.

He watched one of the housekeepers unwrap a small box, freeze, then laugh in disbelief. “You remembered,” she said, holding it up. “I’ve been wanting to buy this one.”

Ellie beamed, already halfway into rummaging through her pile of gifts.

Julian watched everything. No excess. No waste. Thoughtful without being ostentatious. He also noted how quickly the atmosphere shifted. Conversations lingered. People laughed louder. One of the staff murmured to another, not realizing he could hear.

“This house feels lighter since she arrived.”

Julian pretended he didn’t hear anything.

Ellie eventually made her way back to him, fidgeting slightly now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “Was that too much?” she asked. “I didn’t overstep, did I? I never know where the line is with this house.”

“They’re happy,” Julian said. “You’re fine.”

She studied his face for a moment, searching for subtext. Apparently finding none, she relaxed.

“Oh good,” she said, then immediately brightened again. “I also have something for Lucy and Margaret.”

She pulled out a wrapped rectangular package, roughly the size of a medium frame, and held it against her chest. “Will you come with me to give this to Margaret?” she asked. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what you give someone who already owns everything and also knows it.”

She continued talking as they walked, a rapid explanation of how difficult it was to shop for people with generational wealth and how gift guides were deeply unhelpful and how she briefly considered baked goods but that felt presumptuous.

Julian listened, amused despite himself.

They found Margaret in the garden, tea in hand, surveying the party preparations with practiced authority.

Ellie hesitated, then stepped forward. “I hope this isn’t strange,” she said, offering the gift. “And I’m sorry, I took it without you knowing.”

Margaret unwrapped it carefully.

Julian leaned in despite himself.

The photograph caught him off guard. It was candid. Margaret smiling mid-laugh. His arm around her shoulders, unguarded, relaxed. He remembered that moment now. He had not known it was captured.

“I had it professionally rendered,” Ellie added quickly. “I didn’t want it to look casual.”

Margaret stared at it, then smiled. Not the polite one. The real one.

“I love it,” she said. “I’ll hang it in my bedroom.”

Julian watched Ellie’s shoulders drop in relief, her smile bright and disbelieving.

This was what she did. She noticed. She remembered. She gave with intention and no expectation of return. She navigated power without trying to claim it. She made space for people who were usually invisible.

Julian felt the now-familiar, unwelcome thought surface again.

Ellie Bennett was out of his league.

---

That evening, Julian found Margaret in the study, halfway through reorganizing a clipboard one of the staff had handed her. She looked mildly irritated, which meant she was in an excellent mood.

“Ellie and I won’t be attending the party tonight,” he said.

Margaret paused. Slowly. “Why?”

“I prepared something for her,” Julian replied. He did not elaborate. He rarely did. “I hope that’s acceptable.”

Margaret’s expression softened into something knowing. “I don’t mind at all. This party isn’t for politicians or donors anyway.”

Julian frowned. “That’s new. Then what exactly is the party for?”

“Our staff,” Margaret said. “Their families. We’ve never done that before. I only realized it when Ellie asked if it was appropriate for her to give them gifts. Apparently I needed a lady from Toronto to point out the obvious.”

She closed the clipboard and set it aside. “They’re coming over this evening. I won’t be alone. So go. Do whatever grand plan you’ve constructed.”

Julian nodded, absorbing that. He should have noticed. He usually noticed things like that.

Margaret studied him for a moment longer, then added lightly, “She’s a very special girl, you know. I hope you manage to keep each other.”

Julian did not respond. He stepped forward and kissed her cheek, then the other, a gesture that felt grounding.

“Merry Christmas, Grandmother,” he said.

As he walked away, his thoughts followed him.

She was special. He had known that for a while now, even before the gifts and the staff and the way the house had recalibrated around her presence. Ellie Bennett moved through the world with attention and intention, and people responded accordingly.

The problem was not recognizing that.

The problem was what came next.

Ellie deserved to be kept by someone steady. Someone uncomplicated. Someone whose instincts did not include retreat or recalculation when things became intimate.

Julian was none of those things.

Tonight, he would do the responsible thing. He would correct his mistake. He would untangle this arrangement before it cost her more than it already had.

He told himself this firmly as he headed back toward her, fully aware that his resolve was thinning every minute.

---

“What are we doing here?” Ellie asked as Julian parked the car.

It was freezing. Proper, aggressive cold. The kind that crept up your jeans and judged your life choices. The lakehouse sat right at the edge of a dark, glassy stretch of water, wrapped in Christmas lights that blinked softly against the snow. Warm yellow. Intentional. Suspicious.

“Is this where you murder me?” she added, eyeing the place. “Because I feel that’s information I deserve in advance.”

“I’d choose a property not tied to my name if that were the plan,” Julian said, already out of the car and opening her door. “Come on.”

Ellie got out slowly, keeping her distance by instinct. Trust was earned, and Julian Hale had the vibe of someone who absolutely owned multiple contingency plans.

She followed him anyway.

The place was…beautiful. There was no other word for it. All wood beams and wide windows, lights strung along the railing and roofline with actual care. Not aggressive, not flashy. Just warm. The kind of place where you expected cocoa and socks and people arguing about board games.

“Julian,” she said, still scanning the place, “Margaret might look for us.”

“I told her we weren’t attending the party.”

That stopped Ellie cold.

“What do you mean, we’re not attending the party?” she said, irritation flaring fast and sharp. “I missed my flight because we fought over that party and now we’re just skipping it?”

She crossed her arms, boots planted. This felt unfair. This felt very Julian.

He stopped at the porch steps and turned to her. “I have something better for you. Open the door.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It better not be a prank.”

Julian’s mouth twitched. “It’s not.”

Ellie climbed the steps anyway, muttering under her breath about men and their definitions of fun. She reached for the door, hesitated for half a second, then pulled it open.

“SURPRISE!”

Ellie froze.

Then it hit her.

Ethan. Hannah. Maisie. Seb.

All inside. All wearing ugly Christmas sweaters that ranged from aggressively festive to outright crimes against knitting. Maisie bounced in place. Ethan grinned. Hannah waved. Seb struck a pose he had clearly practiced.

Ellie shrieked.

It came out loud and high and unfiltered, the sound of someone whose heart had just been picked up and shaken hard. She dropped her bag, slapped a hand over her mouth, and then immediately failed to contain herself as Maisie launched forward.

“What are you doing here?” Ellie shouted, laughing and half crying as she crouched to catch her niece. “How are you here? Who did this? Julian, what did you do?”

---

Julian almost jumped out of his skin when Ellie shrieked.

The sound was sharp, sudden, and loud enough to qualify as a safety violation. He winced on reflex as she launched herself forward, colliding with Hannah in a tangle of coats and limbs. Maisie screamed too, out of pure enthusiasm, and Ethan barely had time to brace before both women started bouncing in circles around him.

Seb, traitor that he was, joined in immediately. He swept Ellie into a dramatic hug and began introducing his partner with the flair of someone who had waited his whole life for this moment.

It was loud. It was chaotic. It was deeply inefficient.

Ellie was crying now. Actual tears. “Why? How?” she asked, voice cracking. “I thought I wasn’t seeing you guys this year.”

Ethan patted her head, steady and familiar. “Merry Christmas, Ellie.”

She cried harder and hugged him again, clinging with impressive commitment.

Julian observed from a few feet away, hands in his coat pockets. Objectively, it was dramatic. Excessively so. Subjectively, it was also very Ellie. If joy were a sport, she would play it without protective gear.

He nudged Seb with his elbow while the family reenacted a reunion scene that would have been cut for time in most films. “Enjoy it,” Julian murmured. “No work today.”

Seb grinned. Julian handed him a card. “Whatever they need, handle it. I wired your bonus. I assume that covers a Kelly.”

Seb’s smile widened. “Aren’t you joining?”

“No,” Julian said, already stepping back.

He walked toward his car, the cold air clearing his head. He hadn’t planned to stay. The flights had been arranged last minute, Seb had pulled off something borderline miraculous, and this was exactly how it should be. Ellie deserved this without complication. Without obligation. Without him hovering at the edges of her joy.

He would go back to the manor. Make a brief appearance at Margaret’s party. Say the right things. Call it a night.

“Wow,” a voice said behind him. “Bailing after pulling that stunt?”

Julian turned.

Ellie stood there, hair completely wrecked from being tackled, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. The lakehouse lights framed her, Christmas bulbs reflecting off the snow behind her. She looked unguarded. Radiant. Distractingly so.

He registered the sensation too late. The strange drop in his stomach. The awareness that landed without permission.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Back to the manor,” Julian replied. “I owe you this much, Elena. Enjoy the holidays with your family.”

He meant it. Every word.

Ellie stared at him for half a second, then closed the distance and hugged him.

Just like that.

Her arms wrapped around him, warm despite the cold, solid and unapologetic. Julian’s breath stalled. Something fluttered in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar, spreading warmth where there had been none a moment ago.

Snow crunched under their feet. The world narrowed.

“Thank you,” Ellie said into his coat.

Julian hesitated, then lifted his arms and held her. Properly. Letting himself feel it, even though it made no sense and solved nothing.

She pulled back, smiling. “Now don’t be a buzzkill and join us.”

And somehow, impossibly, Julian let himself be dragged back by this loud, invasive, strange woman who had rearranged his evening and, apparently, his internal architecture.

Chapter 24: The World Went Quiet

Julian had underestimated the Bennetts.

He had assumed peak chaos would involve catering delays or a scheduling conflict. Instead, it was pizza boxes stacked at odd angles, overlapping conversations, Seb’s partner teaching Maisie how to cheat at charades, and Ethan insisting that rules mattered while absolutely breaking them himself.

It was loud. Improvised. Entirely last minute.

Julian found himself seated on the floor at one point, fiercely competitive during Pictionary, arguing that what he had drawn was clearly a lighthouse and that the failure to identify it was a group problem, not an artistic one. At some point he realized he was laughing. Out loud. Unrestrained.

That realization unsettled him more than it should have.

By the time everyone disappeared into their rooms, the house had settled into a satisfied quiet. Julian was brushing his teeth when there was a knock at his bedroom door.

“Julian,” Ellie hissed from the other side. “Are you still awake?”

He paused, toothbrush midair. Of course she was awake. Ellie treated sleep as a suggestion.

He opened the door.

Ellie stood there in a robe.

Julian’s brain, which had behaved acceptably all evening, immediately betrayed him. It supplied images that were unhelpful, intrusive, and wildly inappropriate for the situation. Nothing explicit, but enough to make him internally reprimand himself for being a functioning adult man with eyes and hormones.

He cleared his throat. “What do you want.”

She beamed at him, utterly unaware of the internal lecture he was giving himself. “Let’s go out. Bring towels.”

He stared at her. Once. Then again. “Why.”

“We’re making new Christmas memories for you,” Ellie said brightly. “Come on. Please?”

This was how it happened. This was how his life derailed. With a robe, a smile, and a sentence that sounded suspiciously permanent.

Julian sighed, reached for a towel, and followed her out into the night.

---

“This is stupid,” Julian said, staring at the lake.

The lake stared back. Dark. Still.

“We’ll make it fast,” Ellie said, already skipping across the deck, clutching her robe with both hands as if optimism alone could insulate her organs.

“We’ll get sick,” Julian replied, because facts mattered.

“We’ll make it fast,” she repeated, stopping to grin at him. “You in?”

“Am I in? No. That water is freezing,” Julian said. He gestured at it for emphasis, as if the lake might argue.

“You’ll survive,” Ellie said cheerfully. “You managed to run in the snow naked.”

“I was not naked,” Julian corrected automatically, which was wasted effort because Ellie was already shrugging out of her robe.

She stood there in shorts and a tank top, entirely unbothered by hypothermia, vibrating with anticipation.

“On three?” she asked.

“No.”

“One.”

“Elena.”

“Two.”

“Ellie.”

“Three!”

She jumped.

Julian swore under his breath, ripped off his robe, and jumped after her.

“Oh shit,” he yelled the moment the water swallowed him whole.

Cold slammed into him with no negotiation period. It was sharp and immediate. He scrambled back toward the deck with all the dignity of a man whose survival instincts had taken over completely.

Ellie was already halfway up, shrieking with laughter, water streaming from her hair. Julian grabbed her arm, hauled her up, and she nearly collapsed into him, laughing so hard she could barely stand.

“You’re crazy,” he said, teeth chattering.

“It was worth it,” Ellie shouted, triumphant.

Julian wrapped his towel around himself with military urgency, then turned and did the same for her, pulling her robe back on and rubbing his hands together before placing one against her cheek. Her skin was cold. Too cold. He rubbed gently, focused, because that was easier than acknowledging anything else.

“That was stupid,” he said.

“Told you,” Ellie replied, eyes bright. “Christmas memories.”

Julian looked at her, breath still uneven, heart doing something uncooperative. He hated that she was right. He hated that he would remember this.

“Let’s go inside,” he said. “I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

Her eyes widened. “There’s more? I thought this was the gift.” She gestured vaguely toward the house. “You know. My family. Emotional devastation.”

“There’s one more,” Julian said, already steering her toward the door before his resolve wavered.

He told himself he was still in control.

He was lying.

---

Julian sat by the fireplace, legs stretched out, the heat doing an adequate job of undoing the lake’s personal vendetta against his circulation.

Ellie appeared a few minutes later with two mugs of hot chocolate, steam curling up in soft spirals. She handed him one and sat cross-legged beside him, eyes bright in a way that immediately put him on alert.

She was suspiciously excited. That was never neutral.

“I’ll give my gift to you first,” she said. “I didn’t know what to get you, and it’s not expensive, but I hope you like it.”

Julian accepted the small box, already calculating what kind of emotional response was appropriate. He opened it.

A watch.

Clean. Understated. Thoughtfully chosen. He turned it over and saw the engraving on the back.

Their wedding date.

Something in his chest shifted, subtle but undeniable. He smiled before he could stop himself, the expression coming easy instead of measured. He slipped off the watch he had been wearing, set it aside without ceremony, and put hers on instead.

“It’s perfect,” he said, and meant it.

Ellie beamed, clearly relieved, then leaned back to sip her drink.

Julian’s gaze dropped to the envelope resting on the table beside him.

He had been aware of its presence all evening, the weight of it growing heavier by the minute. He wrapped his fingers around it, feeling the thickness of the paper, the decision inside.

What would it cost him.

Giving it to her meant honesty. It meant ending something before it drifted further out of control. It meant risking the very thing he had spent his life insulating himself against.

Ellie leaving.

Ellie going back to the life she was supposed to have. The one without contracts or expectations or him at the center of it.

He told himself this was the right thing. He told himself fairness mattered more than comfort. He told himself this was about protecting her, not losing her.

Eventually, he handed her the envelope.

“What’s this?” Ellie asked, already curious.

“My gift to you,” Julian said. “Open it.”

---

Ellie opened the envelope.

Her brain took a second to catch up to what her eyes were seeing, which was unfortunate, because the second her brain did catch up, everything went very quiet and very sharp at the same time.

Divorce papers.

Already signed. His signature neat and decisive, sitting there as if this were a routine errand he’d completed between meetings.

A cheque. An amount big enough to make her chest tighten. Three years of what they had agreed on, wrapped up in one clean rectangle.

And a certificate. Scholarship. One of the best theatre schools in Toronto. The kind of thing people dreamed about and talked themselves out of hoping for.

Ellie did not feel grateful.

She felt angry. She felt hurt. She felt something crack open behind her ribs that had nothing to do with money or opportunity.

“What’s this?” she asked, even though she could read. She had been reading scripts since she was a teenager. She was very good at reading.

“Divorce papers,” Julian said. “And your salary—”

“I can read, Julian,” she cut in, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. “I’m asking why you’re giving this to me.”

He looked genuinely confused. That somehow made it worse.

“I’m giving you your freedom back, Elena,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Her stomach dropped.

“What…” she said. Not loud. Just stunned. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Was I too loud for you? And for the record, you are not holding me hostage, so what freedom are you talking about?”

Julian sighed, that calm, measured sigh he used when he thought he was being reasonable. “This arrangement isn’t fair to you. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Ellie laughed, a brittle sound that surprised her. “Oh wow. How noble.”

Her eyes burned. She hated that part. She hated crying. She hated that her throat felt tight and stupid when just an hour ago she had been laughing and freezing and making memories on purpose.

Without really thinking, she stood, and tossed the cheque and the scholarship certificate into the fire. Paper curled and blackened immediately, the flames eager in a way that felt rude.

“I don’t need this,” she said, turning back to him. “But I’ll sign the divorce papers. And maybe I should start packing too.”

She needed air. Immediately. The lake house suddenly felt too small, too warm, too full of expectations she hadn’t agreed to.

She grabbed her coat and headed for the door, heart pounding, thoughts scrambling.

They had been having fun. Real fun. Laughing. Jumping into freezing water. Sitting by the fire.

So why now?

Had he been thinking this the whole time.

The question followed her out into the cold.

---

Julian followed Ellie out into the cold without thinking it through, which irritated him immediately because he always thought things through. She was already halfway down the path, shoulders tense, moving fast in that way she did when she was trying not to fall apart in public.

This was supposed to help her. That was the whole point. So why did it feel as though he had just set fire to the room and acted surprised when she ran?

“Elena,” he said, catching up. “I don’t understand why you’re angry. Isn’t this what you want?”

She stopped so abruptly he almost ran into her.

“What do you know about what I want,” Ellie said, turning on him, “when you haven’t even asked?”

That landed.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Then tell me. What do you want?”

She laughed, short and disbelieving. “Seriously?”

Julian felt something twist in his chest. Not irritation. Something closer to panic, which he resented on principle. “Yes,” he said. This isn’t fair to you. I know we agreed to this, but agreeing doesn’t mean you actually knew what you were giving up.”

“Oh my god,” Ellie said, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Do you hear yourself?”

“You deserve a life without me,” Julian said, quieter now. “One that isn’t…this.”

“That’s what you think,” she snapped. “You keep handing me exits and pretending you’re doing me a favor. So stop dancing around it and just say you don’t want me here.”

The words hit with brutal accuracy.

He hated how right she was. Hated that she saw him so clearly when he had spent years making sure no one did.

Ellie wasn’t finished. “The problem with you, Julian, is you think you don’t deserve any of this. You think everyone’s going to take something from you and leave eventually and—”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” he said automatically, even though a part of him knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Shut up, I’m not done,” she said, stepping closer. “Yes, I’m paid to be here. Yes, I agreed to pretend. But if you want this over, don’t hide behind morality. Don’t make me the one to pull the plug because you’re scared to admit you want out.”

Julian stood there, heart pounding, thoughts unraveling faster than he could catch them.

How was he supposed to explain that he didn’t want her gone?

That the problem was that she stayed. That she laughed and argued and cared too much. That she had walked into his carefully managed life and disrupted everything he had worked to keep contained. That he didn’t know how to want someone without breaking them in the process.

He wasn’t built for someone like Ellie. Someone who felt without armor. Someone who didn’t keep an exit strategy folded neatly in their pocket.

“You know what,” Ellie said finally, voice exhausted. “Forget it. I’ll pack tomorrow.”

She turned to walk past him.

Julian reached out and grabbed her arm.

The contact was instant electricity. Too much. Too fast. His brain gave up entirely.

Against logic. Against planning. Against every rule he trusted himself to follow.

He pulled her back and kissed her.

And for the first time all night, the world went quiet.

Chapter 25: We Don’t Need This

Ellie did not expect the kiss.

That felt important to establish, because technically she had been kissed before. There had been the wedding ceremony, which she had chosen to mentally file under Administrative Contact and move on from immediately. That one had happened too fast, too public, too full of witnesses and paperwork.

This one did not come with witnesses.

This one came with cold air and unfinished arguments and Julian’s hand suddenly on her arm and then his mouth on hers.

She froze. Completely. Every muscle locked up as if her body had missed a memo about what it was supposed to do next. She hated that she was so stiff. She hated that she wasn’t pulling away. She hated that she wasn’t doing anything except standing there, heart racing, head empty, mouth pressed against his.

Why did it feel like this?

Warm. Careful. Not rushed. Not awkward. It felt intentional in a way that made her chest ache.

She definitely wanted it to not end, which felt unfair because she had been yelling at him two seconds ago.

Should she move? Should she open her mouth? Where were her hands supposed to go? On his chest? His shoulders? His coat? Somewhere neutral? Was there a neutral place? Was she leaning or was he leaning? Was she breathing wrong?

Did she smell bad?

She probably smelled bad. They had jumped into a lake. She was ninety percent sure she smelled bad.

Julian shifted, his hand sliding up, settling at the back of her head, steady and warm, fingers firm in her hair. The moment he did that, her knees went weak in a way that felt deeply unfair and extremely distracting.

Ellie melted.

The world tilted. Her thoughts scattered. Her body finally caught up to what was happening. She let herself lean into him, just a little, just enough to admit the truth she hadn’t planned on facing tonight.

Her mouth parted without permission.

Julian breathed something under his breath, low and rough, and that was it.

Ellie was gone.

---

Julian knew he had lost control the moment she turned away.

It hit fast. The panic had no patience for reason. He watched her walk off and his body moved before his brain finished listing the consequences. Self-control left the building without notice or apology.

He told himself to stop when he caught up to her. Told himself this was a terrible idea. Told himself that kissing her would complicate things that were already unraveling.

Then he noticed she wasn’t moving.

That alone should have been his cue to abort. He should have let go. He should have apologized. He should have said something measured and adult.

Instead, Ellie opened her mouth.

Julian cursed under his breath, low and instinctive, and leaned in as she tilted toward him.

The kiss was not polite. It was not careful. It was charged and brief and entirely unplanned. His hand found the back of her head, steadying her when she leaned in, and for a few seconds his brain shut down completely.

When he pulled back, Ellie still wasn’t moving.

“Elena?” he said, already bracing.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

“Yeah,” she said. “I, uh…right. I’ll just go inside. And…Okay.”

She turned and walked off at a pace that suggested her legs were still negotiating terms with the rest of her body.

“Ellie,”

Julian stood there in the cold, staring after her, absolutely certain he had just ruined everything. The timing. The execution. The lack of explanation. Every scenario ended badly.

He had kissed her out of panic. Out of fear. Out of wanting. None of which were defensible.

She stopped halfway.

Turned.

Walked back.

Before his brain could catch up, she leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his mouth, firm and decisive, then spun around and ran back inside.

Julian stared after her again, heart pounding, chest warm in a way that made no sense at all.

He exhaled slowly.

Apparently, he had not screwed it up entirely.

---

Ellie had not slept.

Not even a little.

She had closed her eyes, stared at the ceiling, flipped the pillow, flipped it back, considered counting sheep, then decided sheep were annoying. Her brain had spent the entire night replaying last night on a loop, but not in a cinematic way. More in a poorly edited highlight reel.

So that was what being kissed felt like.

Okay.

Good to know.

Did she like it? Yes. Annoyingly so. Was she missing out on something all these years? Definitely. Deeply. Tragically.

Her brain immediately jumped tracks. Why did Julian kiss her? That part was important. He didn’t strike her as a man who kissed impulsively. He planned his meals. He planned his exits. He definitely planned his kisses.

And then, worse, why did she walk back and kiss him again?

That one haunted her.

That was not an accident. That was a choice. A fast one, sure, but still a choice. She could have gone inside and screamed into a pillow. Instead, she had turned around and kissed him. Brief. Decisive. Bold. Who was she?

Ellie groaned quietly and rolled onto her side.

She checked her phone. 5:04 a.m.

Fantastic.

She would simply stay in her room all day. That was a reasonable adult response. Hide until feelings settled. Unfortunately, this was Julian’s lakehouse and her family was here. Ethan noticed everything. Hannah noticed even more. Maisie would ask direct questions with no mercy.

Also, she really had to pee.

She debated holding it. She seriously did. But that was not sustainable.

Julian was probably asleep. He was a morning person in a deeply suspicious way, but even he had limits.

She slipped out of bed, opened the door carefully, and padded down the hall.

No Julian.

Bathroom. Relief. Minor victory.

On her way back, her brain added thirst to the list of urgent needs, because it was determined to make this harder than it had to be.

She turned into the kitchen.

Julian sat at the table with a mug of coffee, looking entirely too awake.

Ellie stopped short.

“Have you slept?” she asked, because apparently she could not stop herself.

“No.”

“Me too.”

They stared at each other for half a second too long.

Julian cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”

“Talk?” Ellie echoed. “Yeah. Talk is nice. Okay. Let’s talk.”

She sat down as far from him as physically possible while still being at the same table, angled slightly away because facing him felt dangerous. Facing him felt intimate.

“About last night,” Julian began. “The divorce wasn’t about you—”

Ellie cut in immediately. “I’ve thought about it. A lot. Clearly. And you’re right. You can stop this arrangement anytime, the same way I can. I don’t know why I’m so mad. I should be grateful, right? This is generous. Extremely generous. It’s just me being fired after all.”

She laughed, a little too loudly.

“So,” she continued, already reaching for the papers on the counter, “I’ll sign this and I’ll be out as soon as we get back to the manor. And I know I said that last night when I was emotional, but now I’m calm and rational and definitely not spiraling, so I’ll sign it and then we’ll be fine and everything will be normal and—”

“Ellie,” Julian said firmly. “Can I talk?”

She stopped mid-word, pen hovering, heart doing something unhelpful.

“Oh,” she said. “Right. Yeah.”

She sat back, hands folding in her lap, bracing herself.

---

Julian listened to Ellie talk and immediately understood two things.

First, she had not slept. Second, if she kept going, she was going to sign herself out of his life in under thirty seconds.

She talked fast. Faster than usual. Words stacking on top of each other, explanations branching into sub-explanations, jokes used as insulation. He tried to interrupt twice. Once with a quiet “Ellie,” once by lifting a finger that never made it past the table.

She didn’t notice either attempt.

She was already halfway through a speech about gratitude, fairness, maturity, and how this was basically just a very upscale termination.

Julian rubbed his thumb against the edge of his mug and waited for an opening. It never came.

“Can I talk now?” he finally said.

Ellie stopped mid-sentence, pen hovering in the air. “Yeah. Sure.”

The silence that followed felt loud.

Julian exhaled slowly and gathered his thoughts, which was harder than it should have been. Normally, this was the part where he excelled. He had plans. He had contingencies. He knew exactly when to cut losses and how to do it cleanly.

Every rational part of him was still insisting that ending the arrangement was the right move. He could see the imbalance clearly. He wasn’t delusional about that. Ellie gave more than she took, and she did it without asking for credit. That kind of generosity eventually cost people something.

The problem was that letting her go meant returning to a life that suddenly felt… empty. Predictable. Untouched. The same carefully arranged solitude he had once believed was ideal.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted it back.

“That divorce paper isn’t about you,” he said finally. “You’ve been doing a great job.”

“Oh great. A performance review.”

Julian closed his eyes for half a second. “Can you shut up and let me talk?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Okay.”

He opened his eyes again, met her gaze, and kept going before she could fill the space with another defensive monologue.

This was not how he handled things. This was messy. Unplanned. Uncomfortable.

---

Julian sighed, and Ellie clocked it immediately.

That wasn’t his annoyed or impatient sigh. This was the uncomfortable one. The I-am-standing-in-emotional-traffic-with-no-clear-exit sigh. His shoulders were tight, his jaw set in that way he got when he was trying very hard not to bolt.

“Like I said,” Julian continued, rubbing a hand through his hair, “this isn’t about you. It’s about me wanting to do what I think is the right thing.”

Ellie tilted her head. That phrase was doing a lot of work. “What is the right thing, then?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked down at the table as if the wood grain might offer guidance.

Oh. He was stuck.

Ellie felt something soften in her chest. Julian did not get stuck often. She leaned into it, gently but decisively.

“Am I fired?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Do you want me to leave?”

There it was.

Her stomach dipped as she waited. She braced herself without meaning to, shoulders squaring, heart pulling back just enough to protect itself. Julian went still.

“No,” he said finally. “Not at all.”

Ellie smiled before she could stop herself. Relief rushed in, bright and a little dizzy. She reached for the divorce papers, tore them cleanly in half, then again, then again for emphasis.

“Seems like we don’t need this after all.”

Julian stared at the shredded remains, “You’re tenacious.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Ellie said cheerfully.

For a second, something shifted between them. The air felt expectant. Julian’s gaze lingered, unreadable, and Ellie had the absurd thought that he might kiss her again. Which was ridiculous. Probably. She blamed the lack of sleep.

Then he tapped the table, breaking the moment.

“Great,” he said briskly. “You’re not fired. I’ll head back to the manor. Spend time with your family.”

He stood, already halfway back into Julian Hale mode, then paused.

“I still owe you a Christmas gift,” he added.

Ellie watched him, heart doing something inconvenient.

He was awkward. He was bad at this. He was clearly trying.

And somehow, that meant more to her than any cheque ever could.

Chapter 26: The New Normal

A few weeks after that, things settled into something that almost looked normal.

If normal meant Julian reaching for her hand even when no one else was around. Or asking about her day and actually listening, even when her answer was mostly complaints about the existential weight of free time. Sometimes he nodded. Sometimes he asked follow-up questions. Sometimes he offered solutions she didn’t ask for, but he tried.

When Ellie just complained a lot.

She complained because she wasn’t doing anything. She complained because she felt unproductive. She complained because if she didn’t talk to someone soon, she was going to start narrating her thoughts aloud to the furniture.

She tried helping the house staff again. But Margaret had gently but firmly forbidden her from helping the house staff anymore. Something about optics. Something about people needing to remember she was still Julian’s wife.

Ellie nodded and smiled and did not understand a single word of that explanation.

Maybe it was rich people logic.

So when Lucy showed up during a short school break, energy first, chaos second, Ellie felt hope spark.

“Me and my friends are going bar hopping in Edmonton,” Lucy said brightly. “Come with?”

She had never been bar hopping. Not because she didn’t want to. She had wanted to. But her teenage years had been about not making Ethan’s life harder than it already was. Ethan was a good brother. A steady one. She hadn’t wanted to be another thing he worried about.

So she stayed home. And missed things. A lot of things.

Anyway.

“Julian,” Lucy announced later, already halfway out the door mentally, “I’m bringing Ellie to Edmonton tonight.”

Julian looked at Lucy in a way that suggested several objections had lined up neatly behind his eyes.

Lucy smiled wider. Unfazed. “I’ll take care of her. I’m with friends. Give Ellie a life outside this manor.”

Ellie appreciated that phrasing. Very rallying.

“Who’s driving you?” Julian asked.

“Me?” Ellie offered.

Julian looked at her. Then away. Then back again. His face did that thing it did when he was running through possibilities she wasn’t privy to. Schedules. Risks. His own patience. Who knew.

“I’m driving you,” he said finally.

Lucy squealed.

She grabbed Ellie’s hand immediately, already vibrating with purpose. “I’m dressing you up.”

Ellie let herself be dragged down the hall, heart light, brain buzzing.

She was going out.

She was doing a thing.

And honestly, if this was what normal looked like now, she was okay with it.

---

Ellie stared at herself in the mirror and immediately regretted every decision that had led her here.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said, tugging uselessly at the hem of the dress. “I’m not wearing anything. And it’s winter.”

Lucy laughed from behind her, already elbow-deep in Ellie’s hair. “That is what women wear when they go bar hopping. No one will notice.”

Ellie squinted at her reflection. No one would absolutely notice.

The dress clung to her in a way that felt illegal in Alberta. Soft, silky, champagne-colored, cut low that her collarbones were doing a lot of work. The slit climbed up her thigh with confidence she did not personally possess. Against her pale winter skin, the fabric looked brighter, warmer. Her freckles were out in full force, scattered across her shoulders and chest.

She felt naked. Stylishly naked. But still.

“I feel exposed,” Ellie muttered. “If a breeze sneezes in my direction, it’s over.”

“Chill, Ellie,” Lucy said cheerfully. “Have fun. You look like you need it.”

“I’m actually just bored.”

“Perfect,” Lucy said. “That’s the best reason to go out. Have you ever been drunk?”

Ellie laughed, because the question was absurd and also deeply humbling. She was a twenty-seven-year-old woman being interrogated by a twenty-one-year-old who had never once had to worry about anything.

“Not really,” Ellie admitted. “Buzzed. Once. Maybe twice. On cheap wine.”

Lucy’s face lit up. “I will get you drunk. It’ll be fun.”

Ellie eyed her. Lucy was sweet. Genuinely. Chaotic, yes, but not malicious. The kind of girl who believed the night would sort itself out and it usually did, mostly because money acted as a safety net.

“You look hot, Ellie,” Lucy added matter-of-factly.

Ellie smiled awkwardly, heat creeping up her neck. Why had she agreed to this again?

Lucy stepped back, admiring her work, then grinned. “Also,” she said lightly, “let Julian see what he’s missing out on.”

Ellie snorted. “It’s not as if he has a choice. We’re already married.”

Lucy raised a brow. “Yeah. For HaleCare.”

The way she said it was too casual. Too observant.

Ellie tried to keep her expression neutral. Internally, her brain began sprinting. “What do you mean?”

Ellie’s stomach dipped. She nodded slowly, pretending this was information she had not already been living inside for months.

Lucy softened immediately. “Hey. I’m not judging. I just know him.”

Lucy shrugged, still smiling. “It’s just…convenient. Julian suddenly has a wife when Grandma decides to distribute her estate. Other people might not clock it, but I know him. That doesn’t scream Julian.”

Ellie glanced at her. “You do.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “He tells me everything. Or he used to. He hasn’t dated anyone since his ex-wife. Ever. He’d introduce girlfriends to me. He hasn’t done that in years.”

Ellie blinked. That was new.

Lucy grinned, clearly enjoying herself now. “Which is why I’m helping him.”

“Helping him,” Ellie repeated.

Lucy nodded. “He’s clueless. Brilliant. Intimidating. But emotionally? Hopeless. So I’m making sure he sees that he has a very hot wife.”

Ellie laughed despite herself. “You’re matchmaking your own brother.”

“Obviously,” Lucy said. “And for the record, I think he likes you. For real. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.”

Ellie swallowed, heart doing something inconvenient.

She looked back at her reflection. Pale. Freckled. Barely contained. Terrified. Curious.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s go freeze to death.”

Lucy beamed.

---

Julian was standing in the foyer with his phone pressed to his ear, nodding to himself while half-listening.

“Yes, I saw it. No, that’s not happening tonight. I don’t care if it’s urgent,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

A pause.

“Yes. Fine. Call me next week.”

He ended the call just as laughter floated down the stairs.

Julian looked up.

And immediately regretted having functional eyes.

Ellie appeared at the top of the stairs, and Julian’s brain left his body without filing a forwarding address.

The dress was criminal. That was the only word for it. Gold. Soft. Thin. Doing absolutely nothing to protect her from winter or his sanity. Her skin looked pale against it, freckles scattered openly, unapologetic. The slit exposed more leg than was appropriate for Alberta, December, or a man who was supposed to be driving her somewhere safely.

His first thought was a vivid, uninvited image of peeling that dress off slowly.

Absolutely not.

His second thought involved the dress on the floor.

Jesus Christ.

His eyes betrayed him, darting downward before he could stop them.

Stop looking.

He looked again.

Lucy caught his expression immediately and grinned. “She’s hot, right?”

Julian reached out on instinct, grabbed Ellie’s coat, and pulled it shut with more force than required. “Are you trying to die of exposure,” he said. “Because that’s how people die of exposure.”

Lucy laughed. “Relax. This is modest compared to the girls you used to take home.”

Julian shot her a look that said you have three seconds to walk that back.

Lucy beamed, utterly unrepentant.

Julian looked at Ellie again. He considered saying something. Clarifying. Reassuring. Explaining that those girls were years ago, a different life, a different version of him that didn’t matter anymore.

He also considered that explaining unprompted would make him look guilty, defensive, or unhinged.

He chose silence.

Lucy grabbed Ellie’s hand. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Ellie smiled as she passed him, warm and a little nervous, and Julian had the deeply unsettling urge to grab her back and say don’t go.

Instead, he stood there, having a silent argument with himself.

You are being ridiculous.

You are married to her.

That does not mean you get to imagine her naked on the staircase.

Stop it.

Stop it right now.

He failed.

Badly.

Julian exhaled slowly, shoved his hands into his pockets, and followed them to the car.

He had never been so relieved and so irritated that coats existed.

Chapter 27: Husband

It was colder than Julian expected and somehow louder than usual, which made no sense to him at all. Lucy and her friends abandoned the idea of bar hopping within ten minutes and settled on one bar instead, citing wind, crowds, and vibes. Julian did not understand any of those criteria. If you were already half dressed for winter, what difference did one more bar make?

This was how he found himself sitting at a VIP table Lucy had sweet-talked him into paying for, nursing a whiskey and watching Lucy drag Ellie onto the dance floor.

Ellie was laughing. Actually laughing. Hair loose, dress defying physics, moving with a freedom that suggested she had absolutely no idea what she was doing and did not care. Lucy’s friends were harmless, enthusiastic, and terrible dancers. Julian catalogued this quickly, reassured himself, then immediately wished Ellie was wearing about thirty percent more fabric.

He did not say anything. He refused to be that man.

A woman appeared beside the table as if summoned by his discomfort.

“You look lonely,” she said, already smiling. “You shouldn’t be.”

Julian looked at her once. Then looked away. Silence usually worked.

It did not work.

She took that as an invitation and sat closer, close enough that Julian could feel the heat from her arm.

“You have a wedding ring” she continued amused, running a finger lightly along his sleeve, “I happen to like married men.”

Julian took a sip of his drink and pointed toward the dance floor without looking. “The woman dancing badly over there is my wife,” he said evenly. “I’m here as their designated driver. You can fuck off.”

The woman’s smile faltered. She followed his finger, assessed the situation, then stood up so fast she nearly knocked over her own chair. She left without another word.

Julian adjusted his watch and exhaled.

Lucy’s group returned minutes later, flushed and breathless. Ellie slid into the seat beside him, and leaned in.

“Who was the woman talking to you earlier?” she whispered.

Julian wrapped an arm around her back without thinking, pulling her in just enough to make a point. He rubbed his thumb there, slow and grounding, mostly for himself.

“A stranger,” he murmured. “And irrelevant.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, clearly buzzed. “You shouldn’t be talking to strangers when your wife is with you.”

Julian smirked. “I won’t.”

That seemed to satisfy her. She smiled and turned back to Lucy just in time to be handed another shot.

Julian watched with growing concern as Lucy poured shot after shot and Ellie accepted them with alarming enthusiasm. Ellie was chronically allergic to saying no. Julian had already noticed this. It was endearing in daily life and disastrous in bars.

When Lucy dragged her back onto the dance floor, Ellie nearly face-planted, burst out laughing instead, and kept going.

Julian stood, moved closer, and caught her arm to steady her.

“You still good?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him off and laughing again.

He frowned.

He hated watching her act like an irresponsible teenager. He also knew she had never been allowed to be one. No safety net. No reckless years. Just responsibility stacked on responsibility.

He let it go. She could suffer tomorrow.

Then another man appeared.

Julian watched him lean in close to say something in Ellie’s ear. She laughed. The man spoke to Lucy and the others, then pulled Ellie into a clumsy dance.

Julian’s jaw tightened.

It was irrational. He knew that. Ellie was dancing. In a bar. With a stranger. This was allowed. He reminded himself of this while imagining, unhelpfully, all the ways the man was standing too close.

Then the man’s hand slid to the small of Ellie’s back and pulled her in.

Lucy tried to intervene. Ellie laughed and tried to pull away. The man did not take the hint.

Julian finished his whiskey, set the glass down carefully, and stood.

Enough.

---

Everything felt soft around the edges, in a good way.

Lights blurred into warm gold streaks. Music vibrated through her ribs instead of her ears. Lucy was laughing beside her, arms in the air, hair absolutely feral, and Ellie felt great.

She felt confident. Which was new. Unsettling. Excellent.

Her body felt lighter than usual, as if gravity had decided to be kind for once. She spun, laughed, forgot what she was worried about earlier, forgot what time it was, forgot that winter existed at all.

Julian was somewhere behind them. She knew this without looking. She could feel him. A presence. Taut. Watchful. On edge in that very Julian way where he pretended he wasn’t tense but absolutely was.

He wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t hovering. He was letting her have this.

That felt nice.

Also, he had been extremely husband-y all night. Coat adjusting. Arm at her back. Standing too close to men who stood too close to her. It was subtle, but drunk Ellie noticed everything.

Lucy leaned in and shouted in her ear, “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.”

Ellie blinked. Processed. Smiled too wide.

Of course he hasn’t, her brain supplied proudly, then immediately followed with, wait, what.

She laughed it off, spun away, then nearly collided with a guy whose name she absolutely did not remember. He was smiling, friendly, talking to Lucy and the others. He seemed harmless enough. Loud. Hands everywhere. Typical bar energy.

Then suddenly he pulled her closer.

Lucy’s hand shot out. Ellie tried to step back too, but her legs were having a meeting without her permission and progress was slow. The man didn’t let go.

And then Julian was there.

One second Ellie was being tugged sideways, the next Julian’s hand was on the man’s wrist, removing it with zero hesitation and very clear intent. The guy puffed up, said something stupid, maybe thought about swinging.

Julian was taller. Calmer. Colder.

The guy’s friends intervened. The situation evaporated as quickly as it started.

Ellie stared at Julian, blinking. “Thanks,” she said.

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, then placed his hands on her waist, grounding and solid and unmistakably there.

Her brain short-circuited.

“Wait,” she said, squinting up at him. “You’re dancing?”

“No,” Julian said flatly. “I’m making sure no one else touches you.”

Oh.

That sentence did something to her.

“We can sit,” Ellie offered, because that felt like a reasonable suggestion.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Julian said. “It’s fine.”

The alcohol erased the rest of her caution.

“Okay then,” she said cheerfully, looping her arms around the back of his neck, and stepping closer.

Julian stiffened for half a second.

Then he relaxed.

And smiled. She was sure of it. Not a public smile. A real one. He started moving with her, slow and steady, guiding instead of directing. He spun her once. She laughed and stumbled back into him, hands fisting in his jacket.

They weren’t doing anything inappropriate. Just dancing. Close. Familiar. Very couple-coded.

Ellie looked up at him, heart thudding, courage fueled entirely by bad decisions and tequila.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

Julian raised a brow. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Why haven’t you kissed me again?” she blurted out.

There it was.

She waited, eyes wide, brain immediately screaming, too honest, Ellie, too honest, but also kind of thrilled she’d said it.

---

Ellie looked up at him, eyes a little unfocused but intent, arms looped around his neck with surprising confidence. His hand rested at her back, solid and familiar now, thumb pressing lightly as if to remind himself she was real.

Why haven’t you kissed me again?

Julian’s brain stalled.

He had wanted to. Frequently. Annoyingly often. Ever since that night by the lake when control had slipped and he’d tasted what it felt to stop holding himself back. Since then, there had been moments. Too many of them. In hallways. In kitchens. When she laughed at something stupid. When she argued with him and refused to back down. When she fell asleep on the couch with her hair in her face.

There were times he wanted to pull her in and forget every rule he had ever built.

He hadn’t because he didn’t trust the situation. Didn’t trust himself. She was living inside an arrangement he had designed. If he crossed that line again, would it be because she wanted it, or because the ground under her feet was already uneven?

He told himself he was being decent. Careful. Responsible.

He also told himself a lot of convenient things.

At what point did taking the high road stop being restraint and start being fear? He told himself it was principle. That he was being careful. Decent. But the truth sat there anyway, heavy and undeniable. He wanted her. Simply. Selfishly.

“So?” Ellie asked again, lips curved, breath warm, clearly braver than she would be sober.

Julian exhaled.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he slid his arm more firmly around her, pulled her closer until there was no space left to negotiate, and let his forehead dip just enough to signal that whatever line he’d been guarding was already crumbling.

If this was the moment he stopped pretending he didn’t want what was right in front of him, then so be it.

---

Lucy announced she was staying with friends for the night with a breezy hug and zero concern. Julian assessed the situation, confirmed Lucy was upright, coherent, surrounded by people who looked harmless, and reluctantly let her go.

That left him with Ellie.

Drunk Ellie.

Drunk Ellie, who had apparently decided that her marital status was now public information.

They made it approximately six steps outside the bar before she leaned toward a passing couple and said brightly, “That’s my husband.”

Julian stopped walking.

The couple congratulated him.

He nodded once, tight-lipped, and guided Ellie forward.

Two steps later, she pointed at a man smoking by the door. “Husband,” she informed him proudly.

Julian muttered, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath and steered her toward the valet stand.

She seemed delighted by this game.

While waiting for the car, Ellie rocked slightly on her heels, arm looped through his with a grip that suggested she had no intention of being separated from him ever again.

“You know,” she said confidentially, loud enough for three strangers to hear, “I married him for business.”

Julian closed his eyes for half a second.

“Ellie,” he said carefully, “we’re not narrating our lives right now.”

She squinted up at him. “Why not. You’re my husband.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m aware.”

She hummed, considering this, then leaned closer. “Can I ask you something.”

“No,” Julian said automatically.

She ignored him. “When was the last time you got laid.”

Julian felt his soul attempt to leave his body.

He glanced around. A woman near the valet was suddenly very interested in her phone. A man coughed.

“That is not an appropriate question,” Julian said calmly, through his teeth.

Ellie nodded. “Okay. But answer it.”

“I am not answering that.”

She gasped. “Wow. So long ago.”

“That is not what silence means.”

She smiled triumphantly. “It totally is.”

The valet finally pulled up the car. Julian exhaled in relief that felt spiritual.

“I’m taking you home,” he said, opening the door and guiding her in with a hand at her waist.

“Home,” Ellie repeated happily. “With my husband.”

Julian shut the door, walked around to the driver’s side, and slid in.

As he started the car, he thought, with grim certainty, that this woman was going to be the end of him.

---

Julian got them home on a combination of patience, upper-body strength, and regret.

Ellie had insisted she could walk. She had lied.

By the time they reached the bedroom, she was slung over his shoulder, laughing into his back as if this were the highlight of her evening.

“I had so much fun,” she announced to the ceiling. “We should do it again tomorrow.”

“No,” Julian said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

She patted his back. “You’re a boring old man.”

“I am thirty-six,” he said, lowering her carefully onto the bed. “And you are never drinking again.”

She was still talking when he turned away for half a second to take off his watch. That was his first mistake.

“It’s so warm in here,” Ellie said, tugging at her dress.

Julian turned.

Oh.

The zipper was already undone. The dress had ridden up her thigh. She was actively attempting to wriggle out of it with zero coordination and complete confidence.

His brain supplied several thoughts at once, none of them helpful.

Cover her. Look away. Do not look away. Why is this happening?

He lunged forward and tried to pull the fabric back into place. “Elena, stop.”

She laughed, batting his hands away. “Married couples see each other naked all the time.”

“We are not that kind of married,” Julian said tightly.

He guided her to sit. “Don’t move.”

“I’m very good at moving,” she said proudly.

Julian walked to the closet, grabbed a T-shirt, and returned just in time to hear her say, “You could help me take it off. It’s very warm.”

“No,” he said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

She pouted. “You’re being dramatic.”

He pulled the shirt down over her head and carefully maneuvering the dress out from underneath without touching anything he absolutely wanted to touch.

She sniffed.

Then cried.

Julian froze.

“Why are you crying?”

“You don’t want me,” Ellie sobbed.

“What?” he said, genuinely startled.

“You don’t want to touch me. You haven’t kissed me again since Christmas. Am I too ugly for you?”

“No, Elena,” he said carefully. “I never said that.”

“I need to wipe my makeup off,” she said abruptly, changing her mind, still crying.

Julian sighed, went to the dresser, and grabbed the makeup wipes. When he came back, he knelt in front of her and gently wiped her face clean. Ellie leaned into the touch, her hand drifting up to cup his cheek.

“I will never allow you near alcohol again,” he murmured.

“I had fun,” she said, eyes already fluttering shut.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” he said, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.

“You’re so sweet,” Ellie murmured.

“I’m not,” he said automatically.

She opened her eyes again, suddenly serious. “Do you still want me here?”

Julian frowned. Whatever arrangement they had stopped being just an arrangement a while ago. He did not understand why she kept questioning her place.

“I do,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face.

Ellie leaned in and kissed him.

She pulled back, searched his expression, then smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time. Julian lost control for half a second. Just enough to kiss her back, slow and careful, warmth blooming in his chest.

Then her hands went for his shirt.

Julian pulled away and gently pushed her back onto the bed.

“Only when you’re sober,” he said firmly.

She sighed, disappointed but accepting, and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Your real wife would be lucky to have you,” she murmured. “Too bad it wasn’t me.”

She fell asleep mid-thought.

Julian stared at the wall.

What the hell was she talking about?

Chapter 28: Change of Plans

Ellie woke up because her mouth felt like a desert had filed a formal complaint.

Thirst. Immediate. Aggressive. Followed closely by hunger. The kind that made her stomach growl in a way that felt rude.

She pushed herself upright and paused.

Okay. First observation. She was alive. Second observation. She was wearing a T-shirt that was not hers.

She looked down.

It was big. Soft. Definitely Julian’s. Which meant at some point last night, she had lost access to her own clothes and gained access to his. That felt… loaded.

Her brain immediately panicked.

Okay. Think. Think logically. Did something happen?

She squinted at the wall as if it might project a replay.

They had slept next to each other for months. Literally months. Nothing had ever happened. Julian had the self-control of a monk with a business degree. Why would he suddenly cross a line when she was drunk? That didn’t track. That would actually be deeply out of character.

Still.

She cringed as memories started trickling back in like they were being delivered by a lazy courier.

Oh god. She told strangers he was her husband. Multiple strangers. With pride.

She groaned and rolled onto her back, pressing her palms to her face.

She remembered him helping her change. That one made her stomach flip. He had been careful. Almost annoyingly so. That was reassuring. Mostly.

Then her brain coughed up another memory.

She had kissed him.

Ellie sat straight up.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no, no, no.”

She kissed him. She was pretty sure she kissed him. Possibly twice. Definitely once. There was mouth involvement. That was not a dream. That was a fact.

She stared at the door.

Julian was not in the room. Which meant several possibilities. He was in his office. He was avoiding her. He had already flown back to Toronto to escape his life choices.

Can she make it to the kitchen without running into him?

The house was huge. Statistically, this should be possible.

Could she ask the house staff to bring food and water to her room and never leave again?

No. Absolutely not. They were not her servants. Even if technically they were. She would simply perish with dignity instead.

She tied her hair into the messiest bun known to humanity and crept out of the room barefoot, moving down the hallway as if this were a stealth mission. She peeked around corners. Paused at intersections. Listened.

Clear.

She slipped into the kitchen.

“How are you upright?”

Ellie shrieked internally and spun around.

Julian stood there, coffee in hand, looking at her with the kind of concern usually reserved for people who had been hit by vehicles.

“Hi,” she said too brightly. “Good morning. Or afternoon. What’s that again?”

“Aren’t you feeling anything?” he asked. “Headache. Nausea.”

“No,” Ellie said. “I’m just thirsty and hungry.”

Julian frowned at her, clearly reassessing reality. “I’ll call someone to make food for you.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll just heat up whatever’s here.”

She turned to the fridge, silently begging him to leave. Please leave. Go back to being intimidating somewhere else.

He did not leave.

Instead, he leaned against the wall and watched her.

Ellie could feel it. The watching. Her hands shook slightly as she grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it. She nearly dropped the plate she pulled from the fridge.

Her brain was screaming.

Say something normal. Do not spiral. Do not ask the question.

She asked the question.

“Did something happen last night?”

She froze, waiting for his answer, heart pounding, every possible outcome flashing through her head at once.

This was worse than auditions.

---

Julian didn’t answer.

Which, in Ellie’s experience, meant something absolutely did happen and he was currently deciding whether to tell her the truth, a partial truth, or a heavily edited director’s cut.

Great.

She felt his presence shift and realized he had moved to sit at the kitchen island. Still watching her. Calm. Unblinking. Can he please stop watching her?

Suddenly she was hyper-aware of everything. The fact that she was barefoot. That she was wearing his T-shirt. That her hair was doing something between nest and crime scene. She could feel his eyes on her even when she wasn’t looking, which felt rude.

“Did I throw up?” she asked quickly. “Please tell me I didn’t throw up.”

“No,” he said.

Ellie exhaled so hard she almost laughed. She carried her plate to the island and sat down, carefully choosing a stool that created a respectable amount of distance. Not too close. Not confrontational. A safe emotional buffer zone.

Julian took a sip of water.

“You announced to everyone that I’m your husband,” he said casually.

Ellie physically recoiled. “Oh my god,” she groaned, then forced a smile. “Well. That’s true. Sort of.”

She stabbed at her food. “What else.”

Julian set his glass down. “That’s something for you to remember.”

She looked up. “Wait. What?”

“Suffer the consequences of your choices, Elena,” he said, standing.

Oh no. Absolutely not.

“You can’t just say that,” Ellie protested, words tumbling over each other. “That’s psychological warfare. You can’t drop ominous statements and then leave. What consequences. Did I sing? Did I cry? Did I tell strangers my life story? Did I cry and sing? Those are different levels of embarrassment.”

Julian leaned in instead.

Ellie froze.

He kissed her. Brief. Soft. Entirely deliberate.

She stared at him when he pulled back. “What was that about?”

“You asked why I haven’t kissed you since the last time,” he said evenly.

“And?” she pressed.

He reached out and pinched her cheek, gently but unmistakably. “Don’t drink too much next time.”

Then he walked out of the kitchen.

Ellie sat there, stunned, cheek warm, heart racing, brain absolutely failing to reboot.

She took a bite of her food and smiled to herself.

Okay.

So something definitely happened.

---

Julian had made it exactly three steps out of the kitchen when one of the house staff intercepted him with the polite urgency that usually meant trouble.

“Mr. Hale,” she said, “Margaret is asking for you. She’s in her study.”

Julian adjusted his cuff out of habit and took the hallway detour without bothering to knock. Knocking implied options. Margaret Hale never offered those.

“Looking for me?” he asked, already stepping inside.

Margaret sat in her chair with a book open on her lap, glasses perched low on her nose. She looked up, measured him once, then smiled faintly.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m flying to Toronto tomorrow. I want you and Ellie there on Saturday.”

Julian frowned. “What’s happening on Saturday?”

Margaret closed her book with deliberate calm and set it aside. “I’m officially introducing you as the new CEO of HaleCare. Partners, investors, a few hospital directors. Nothing dramatic.”

Julian stilled. “What happened to our one-year agreement?”

“Oh,” Margaret said lightly, waving a hand. “I suppose this old lady is allowed to change her mind. I’ll be handing HaleCare over to you and overseeing a proper transition.”

She paused, then added with unsettling cheer, “I hate to sound morbid, but I feel as though I’m going any time soon.”

Julian’s chest tightened despite himself. “Are you sick?”

Margaret scoffed. “I’m eighty-eight, Julian. I’m not expecting miracles. Let’s move while I’m still coherent.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing it. The timing. The responsibility. The inevitability of it all. This was what he had worked toward, planned for, prepared himself to carry. And yet it landed heavier than expected.

“See you on Saturday, then,” he said quietly.

Margaret hummed, already reaching for her book again, dismissing him with affection she never bothered to verbalize.

Julian left the study and walked back down the hallway, thoughts shifting quickly.

The first thing he thought was simple and unexpected.

Ellie would be happy to go home for a while.

Chapter 29: Stale Coffee

Julian barely had the car in park when Ellie’s seatbelt clicked open.

She was already halfway turned toward the door, buzzing with that particular energy she got when she was about to see her family. He clocked it automatically. The bounce in her knee. The way she hugged her bag to her chest as if it might run away.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” he said, checking the time on the dash. “Seven.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, already gathering her things.

“Dress nicely.”

She paused, eyebrow lifting. “Anything else?”

Julian considered several things he absolutely should not say. He settled on nothing. If he had a choice, she would be staying at his apartment. Clean sheets, controlled environment, no surprises. But that wasn’t the point, was it. She missed them. She always did. He could hear it every time she talked about Ethan, about Hannah and Maisie, about how loud and cramped and imperfect everything was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said instead.

He got out before she could, circled the car, and opened her door. Ellie laughed softly.

“Thanks,” she said. “You’re being extra nice today.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, automatically, as he reached for her luggage.

The house was quiet when they stepped inside. Friday afternoon quiet. No Ethan pacing around, no kids exploding out of rooms. Julian set her bag down by the wall and straightened.

“Thanks,” Ellie said again, gentler this time.

He nodded.

They stood there for a moment too long. Julian became acutely aware of it. The stillness. The fact that this was where he was supposed to not hesitate and leave her.

“I should get going,” he said, clearing his throat.

Ellie smiled. “Okay.”

He hated how different it already felt. How tonight he would come home from work and no one would be there talking through their day, narrating the contents of the fridge, asking him questions he pretended to find distracting. He hated that noise. He hated, apparently, that it would not be there.

Before he could talk himself out of it, before the rules he’d set snapped back into place, he leaned in and kissed her.

---

Ellie did not see it coming.

One second she was still processing the fact that he was standing too close, that the house felt quieter than it should, and the next Julian was kissing her as if he had finally lost patience with restraint.

It was not polite. It was not tentative. It was the opposite of all the careful, half-held moments he’d given her before.

She made a surprised sound that disappeared into his mouth, then she kissed him back because apparently her body had decided to take over operations without consulting her brain. His mouth moved against hers with intent, deepening the kiss until her thoughts scattered entirely. Her knees went weak in a way she had previously believed was a fictional exaggeration invented by romance novels.

It was not exaggerated.

Julian swore softly against her mouth, a breathy curse that sent heat straight down her spine, and then he was there, hands bracketing her, guiding her back until her shoulders met the wall. Not pinning her, not quite, just there enough that she felt him everywhere. The solidity of him. The way he hesitated for half a second, as if asking permission without words, before kissing her again.

Harder.

She felt his tongue and something embarrassingly undignified slipped out of her throat before she could stop it. Julian froze for exactly one heartbeat, cursed again under his breath, and tightened his grip just enough to keep her upright when her legs absolutely failed her.

Her hands went somewhere useless and then found the front of his coat, fisting it because she needed something to anchor herself. The kiss was messy now, breathless, consuming, the kind that made time feel optional.

Then he pulled back.

Both of them were breathing hard. His forehead dropped to hers, eyes closed, like he was bracing himself against something invisible. One of his hands slid up, thumb brushing along her jaw, gentle now, grounding.

“I really have to go,” he said, voice rough in a way that did unreasonable things to her nervous system.

Ellie nodded because words had temporarily abandoned her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He lingered for half a second longer, hands still on either side of her, as if he wasn’t fully convinced he could let go. Then he stepped back, leaving the air colder and her heart doing something chaotic and unhelpful in her chest.

Ellie stayed where she was long after he left, pressed against the wall, trying to remember how breathing normally worked and wondering when exactly her life had gone completely off-script.

---

That evening felt full in a way Ellie hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

Hannah cooked, which meant food appeared in quantities meant to intimidate a small army. Ethan hovered, pretending not to hover while absolutely hovering, asking if Julian had been treating her well in the careful, brotherly tone that suggested he was ready to commit a felony if the answer was no. Maisie asked approximately forty-seven questions, most of them unrelated, some of them deeply personal, all of them delivered with the confidence of someone who believed adults existed solely for her entertainment.

Ellie laughed so much her cheeks hurt.

And then she went to bed.

Which was when her brain betrayed her.

She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, replaying the kiss on a loop. The way Julian hadn’t hesitated. The way her legs had actually given out, which was humiliating in hindsight. The wall. The hands. The breathless pause afterward.

She groaned softly and rolled onto her side.

He hadn’t texted her. Not a single message. No ‘good night’. No ‘I just got home’. No ‘please pretend that kiss didn’t happen’.

Which was fine. Totally fine. She was not a clingy fake wife. She was a cool, adjusted woman who did not spiral because a man kissed her and then exercised self-control.

Still.

Should she call him?

Why would she call him?

What would be a legitimate, non-creepy reason to call her fake husband at this hour?

She started making a list in her head.

One. Emergency. No, that invited follow-up questions.

Two. Work-related. She did not have work.

Three. Family-related. Too serious.

Four. Casual check-in. That was code for clingy.

Five. Lost item. That had potential.

Six. Charger.

She sat up abruptly.

Yes. Charger. Perfect. Universal. Boring. Plausible.

She grabbed her phone, scrolled to his name, stared at it for a full five seconds, muttered “fuck it,” and hit call.

He answered on the second ring.

“Ellie?” His voice was low and groggy, unmistakably pulled out of sleep.

“I need to borrow your charger.”

There was a pause.

“Huh?”

“Charger,” she repeated, because apparently this was who she was now.

Another pause. She could picture him sitting up, hair messed up, trying to make sense of this with a brain that had not signed up for nonsense at this hour.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I lost mine?” she said, immediately defensive, as if chargers were a personal failing.

Silence. Then a quiet exhale.

“Wait for me.”

The call disconnected.

Ellie stared at her phone.

“Wait, what?” she said to the empty room. “Is he seriously coming over?”

She had fully expected him to tell her to go to sleep. Or order one online. Or calmly dismantle her logic and hang up.

Instead, she flopped back onto the bed, heart doing something stupidly fast, and whispered to the ceiling, “Oh no.”

---

Ellie heard the low rumble of an engine outside and jolted upright.

That was…fast.

She grabbed a coat, any coat, shoved her feet into shoes without checking if they matched, and hurried outside before her brain could stage a full intervention. The cold hit her square in the face just as Julian’s car pulled to a stop.

He rolled down the window, looking thoroughly unimpressed with existence.

Hair everywhere. Jaw tight. Coat half-zipped. The kind of grumpy that suggested he had been asleep, dreaming peacefully, and then someone named Elena Bennett had committed a crime.

He looked younger like this. Less controlled. More dangerously human.

Ellie climbed into the passenger seat. Julian didn’t say a word. Just held out the charger.

She took it. “I didn’t think you’d actually come here at this hour.”

Julian turned to her slowly.

“So,” he said, very carefully, “you didn’t need a charger at all.”

There it was. The tone. Sharp, flat, edged with disbelief.

“No,” Ellie said, wincing. “I didn’t.”

Julian stared straight ahead. His jaw worked once. Then he exhaled through his nose, long and controlled, the sound of a man trying very hard not to say something unkind at one in the morning.

“You woke me up,” he said calmly. “Drove across town. Because you lost a charger you did not, in fact, lose.”

Ellie rushed in immediately, “I panicked. I couldn’t think of a normal reason to call you. I figured you’d tell me to buy one in the morning or hang up on me or ask why I didn’t plan ahead, which, fair, but also…”

“Elena.”

“Yes?”

He finally looked at her.

The annoyance was still there, simmering, but underneath it was something else. Something steadier.

“I would have come here anyway,” he said. “You don’t need to manufacture emergencies to talk to me.”

That landed harder than the annoyance ever could have.

Her throat tightened. She stared at the charger in her hands, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous the whole thing had been.

Julian turned back to the windshield. “Next time, just call.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

A beat.

“I need to get gas,” he said, abrupt again, as if resetting himself. “How do you feel about gas station food?”

Ellie smiled, relief flooding in. “I feel very strongly about it.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the hood of his car, sharing a blanket and stale coffee, burgers balanced between them.

They talked about nothing important.

Julian told her about his first job and the boss who thought yelling was leadership. Ellie told him about her worst audition, the one where she tripped and committed to it out of spite.

“That’s bravery,” Julian said dryly.

“That’s survival,” Ellie replied.

She caught the music playing through the speakers and squinted. “Is this emo?”

“It’s nostalgic.”

“It’s emotionally aggressive,” she said. “Were you okay?”

“I was fine,” he said. “Everyone was dramatic in their twenties.”

She laughed and leaned into him without thinking. He didn’t move away. Just adjusted the blanket so it covered them both.

Ellie thought, dimly, that waking him up had been a terrible idea.

And also maybe the best one she’d had all night.

Chapter 30: Julian’s Friend

Ellie stepped out of the car and was immediately hit with the kind of cold that made her reconsider every life choice that had led her here. Lights glittered. Cars that cost more than her entire existence lined the drive. Margaret’s parties always looked less like gatherings and more like curated exhibits.

She smoothed her dress anyway. Reflex.

“What if they ask me to play the piano again?” she blurted as Julian handed his keys to the valet.

Julian didn’t even pause. He took her hand, warm and steady, like this was a solved problem. “I’ll tell them you have an injury and can’t play.”

Ellie exhaled so hard she nearly deflated. “Thank you.”

Then the anxiety rushed back in. “Do I look okay? I look decent, right? I mean I know this is a charity gala slash power summit slash whatever this is, but I don’t look out of place, do I? I will never get used to Margaret’s parties. There’s too much money in the air.”

Julian stopped walking and looked at her.

“You’re good,” he said simply, then guided her inside before she could spiral further.

The room glittered. Everything sparkled. Ellie immediately labeled the whole thing in her head as for the rich and famous and people who own boats for no reason. Conversations hummed at a volume that suggested importance. Everyone looked polished. Everyone looked expensive.

She was scanning the room when she froze.

Her hand shot out and grabbed Julian’s arm.

“Is that Sean Arthur?” she whispered urgently. “The Sean Arthur?”

Julian followed her stare. “Yes.”

“I’ve loved him since high school,” she hissed. “I have his first album. I wrote bad poetry to it. I am going to hyperventilate.”

Julian looked at her, clearly entertained, but said nothing.

She clamped her mouth shut and focused very hard on breathing like a normal person.

They reached their assigned table, and Ellie sat down gratefully, anchoring herself with a glass of water. Julian leaned in.

“Margaret will introduce me later,” he said quietly. “There’s a chance she’ll drag me around to meet people one by one. Do you want to join or…”

“I’m fine here,” Ellie said immediately. “I don’t want them asking questions about me.”

Julian studied her for a second. “Anytime you want to leave, you tell me.”

“I won’t.”

“Elena.”

She sighed. “Okay. I will. But this is your day. I’ll be fine. I won’t touch alcohol, I promise.”

He nodded, still watching her, as if making a mental note.

Ellie straightened in her chair and told herself she could do this. She had survived auditions with worse lighting and less dignity. She could survive one night among people who probably owned multiple vacation homes.

Still, she kept her hand close to Julian’s arm, just in case.

---

Julian noticed Ellie’s discomfort before she said a word.

He always did.

It showed in the way she kept her shoulders slightly tucked, how her smile appeared only when someone addressed her directly, how she nodded along even when the conversation clearly bored her. She stayed close without clinging. Present, polite, careful. As if she were constantly checking whether she was taking up too much space.

He respected that more than he should have.

Sure, she was paid to be here. That was the framework. The contract. The logic. But contracts did not explain why she kept glancing at him for confirmation, why she whispered questions under her breath, why she asked if she was doing fine every time the conversation shifted. She cared. That part was not transactional.

He leaned closer. “You’re doing great.”

Ellie looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You make a very convincing wife.”

She opened her mouth to respond, clearly torn between offense and relief, when the lights shifted slightly and the room quieted.

Margaret stepped up to the podium.

Julian straightened automatically.

Margaret cleared her throat and surveyed the room, eyes sharp and amused. “Before anyone panics, no, this is not a retirement announcement. You’re all stuck with me a little longer.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd.

“HaleCare started as a modest operation,” she continued. “A handful of clinics, an unreasonable amount of optimism, and staff who worked far harder than they were paid. We grew because we cared. Not because it was profitable. That part came later, much to my accountant’s relief.”

More laughter.

“I have always believed that healthcare should be run by people who remember that it is about people,” she said, voice softening. “Not numbers. Not ego. And certainly not shortcuts. Which brings me to why I am very particular about who takes this company forward.”

Julian felt Ellie’s eyes on him as Margaret smiled.

“The next CEO of HaleCare is someone I trust to protect what we built,” Margaret said. “Someone who understands responsibility, pressure, and the weight of decisions that affect lives. Please welcome Julian Hale.”

Applause filled the room.

Ellie was clapping too, smiling at him in that way that made his chest tighten for reasons he would unpack later.

Julian stood, accepted a brief hug from Lucy, who whispered “Don’t mess it up,” and walked toward the podium.

He disliked moments like this. People either liked him or they did not. Speeches rarely changed that. Still, Margaret watched him with unmistakable pride, and that mattered.

He rested his hands lightly on the podium.

“Thank you,” he began. “HaleCare matters because it works. It works because of the people in this room and those not in it. Doctors, nurses, staff, partners. My role is not to reinvent what already functions. It is to protect it, improve it where possible, and ensure we continue delivering care with integrity.”

He paused, scanning the room.

“I take this responsibility seriously,” he said. “And I intend to earn the trust you’ve placed in me.”

That was it. No grand promises. No theatrics.

Applause followed, polite and genuine enough.

Julian stepped down, fully intending to go straight back to Ellie.

Margaret intercepted him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll introduce you personally to our investors and partners.”

Julian glanced across the room. Ellie met his eyes, gave him a small nod, steady and understanding.

He sighed inwardly and turned back to Margaret, already bracing himself.

One obligation at a time.

---

Ellie watched Julian from across the room and felt several things at once.

First: he looked very much in his element. Annoyingly so. Tall, calm, composed, doing that thing where people leaned in when he spoke, nodded seriously, laughed at the right places. He looked hot. There, she admitted it. Fully hot. The kind of hot that came with tailored suits and confidence and a life plan.

Second: he was wildly out of her league.

She wasn’t delusional. She’d never been in a real relationship, but she understood math. Everything about them was arranged. A transaction.

Yes, he’d kissed her. More than once. In ways that made her knees forget how knees worked. But he hadn’t said anything. No declarations. No clarifications. No “hey, by the way, this is getting complicated.”

Would he ever say something? She had no idea.

She watched him shake hands, stand straight, command conversations without raising his voice. Every few minutes, his eyes flicked to her, quick and assessing, as if checking whether she’d combusted or started crying in public yet. She smiled back and nodded.

See? Still standing. No emotional emergencies.

At the end of the day, Julian suited someone who matched him. Someone accomplished. Someone polished. She was jobless unless pretending to be a wife counted as a career path, which she was spectacularly failing at because feelings were clearly happening and that was not in the agreement. Also, they had not discussed it. At all.

If everything went according to plan, he’d divorce her. He’d find someone more convincing to be Mrs. Hale. Someone with a résumé. A future. Not a high school graduate whose main skill set included crying on cue and spiraling internally while smiling politely.

What was she even good at, really. Other than—

“Elena.”

Ellie blinked.

Julian was suddenly seated beside her.

“Yeah?” she said, way too quickly.

“You’re spacing out.”

“I am?” She laughed.

He studied her for a second. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she said immediately. “Just comparing women’s dresses. You know. Very shallow thoughts.”

He did not look convinced. At all.

Before he could press, a woman approached their table. Beautiful was not even the right word. Effortlessly stunning. The kind of woman whose hair behaved naturally and whose posture suggested she had never apologized for existing.

“Julian,” the woman said warmly. “Congratulations.”

Julian stood and kissed her cheek. “Candice. What are you doing here?”

“I’m a plus one,” she said with a smile. “When I saw you’d be here, I thought it’d be nice to catch up.”

Ellie clocked everything in half a second. The familiarity. The ease. The way Candice stood just a bit too close without trying.

She’s really pretty, Ellie thought. Objectively. Not insecurity. Just facts.

Julian turned back to Ellie. “Elena, this is Candice. Candice, this is Elena, my wife.”

Ellie smiled and shook her hand. “Hi.”

“I heard you remarried,” Candice said pleasantly. “Good for you.” Then she looked at Ellie. “He’s always been best with people who already know who they are.”

Ellie laughed because that felt safer than asking follow-up questions. “Duly noted.”

Candice and Julian talked for a few minutes about things Ellie vaguely understood. Hospitals. Schedules. People she didn’t know. At some point, Ellie leaned in and said, cheerfully, “It’s nice to finally meet one of Julian’s friends.”

Julian cleared his throat.

Candice smiled knowingly. “Yes. It was nice meeting you too.” She glanced at Julian. “I should go, I’m truly happy you’re doing well.”

They both watched her walk away.

Ellie waited exactly two seconds. “So. How do you two know each other?”

It wasn’t sharp. Or jealous. Just curious.

Julian looked at her. “She’s my ex-wife.”

“Oh,” Ellie said.

And then, because her brain hated her, it immediately began comparisons.

Candice was a doctor. Confident. Accomplished. Put together. Ellie was…not that. At all. She smiled anyway, nodding as if this information hadn’t just rearranged her internal furniture.

Right. Of course she was.

Ellie folded her hands in her lap and told herself not to spiral.

She failed immediately, but quietly.

---

Julian noticed Ellie’s silence three minutes into the drive.

That was a personal record.

Ellie Bennett had commentary on everything. Traffic lights. Other drivers. The concept of temperature. When it was just the two of them, the car usually sounded like a podcast he hadn’t consented to but secretly enjoyed. Tonight, she sat still, hands folded in her lap, staring out the window.

That was not normal.

He let it go for a few minutes, mostly because he was bad at opening conversations that weren’t tactical or corrective. Then the quiet started to itch.

“We’ll need to stay here for about two weeks,” he said, eyes on the road. “Just for the transition. After that, we’ll go back to Willowridge and finish the rest of the year as planned. Margaret and I talked about it.”

“Okay,” Ellie said.

Just okay. No follow-up. No joke. No unnecessary but charming clarification.

He tried again. “Or, I can try to convince Margaret that we stay here longer so I can focus on HaleCare. I’m not promising anything. I’m just saying I’m trying to follow her wishes without burning down the entire schedule.”

“I understand,” Ellie said. “Whatever works for me.”

That made him glance at her.

“You okay?”

She nodded immediately. Too immediately. “I am. Just tired. And overstimulated earlier.”

Julian did not believe her for a second.

Ellie talked more when she was tired. When she was overstimulated, she talked faster. Silence was what she did when something was wrong and she didn’t want to say it out loud yet.

He chose not to push. Not because he didn’t want to know, but because he knew what pushing looked like on him. It looked interrogative. It shut people down.

They pulled up outside Ethan’s place.

“The next few weeks will be busy,” he said, softer now. “But I want you to call me if you need anything.”

She smiled and nodded. Polite. Contained.

“Thanks. Good night.”

She opened the door before he could get out and circle around. She paused, glanced back once, lifted a hand in a small wave, then closed the door behind her.

Julian sat there for a moment longer than necessary.

Something had happened that night.

And whatever it was, she wasn’t telling him.