Chapter Twenty

CLARA

D ancing the night away in Zade’s arms felt like a dream. I had never felt more alive, knowing exactly who the man behind the man was, knowing that he wants me just like I want him. So much has happened since we met, and I didn’t want the night to end, desperate to keep the fairy tale alive. I almost argued when it was time to leave, but let him herd me into the car and kiss me senseless before his driver dropped me off back at home with a promise from Zade that he’d be back in the morning.

I wake up in my own bed, immediately wondering if last night was an insane dream of some sort.

My closet door is open when I glance over, and the dress I wore is hanging there, sparkling gems nestled in between secondhand sweaters and worn out old jeans. I blink against the early morning light, trying to parse through everything.

Zade. Santa. My Elite.

One in the same.

A Christmas ball out of my dreams. A magical night full of magical promises.

It can’t be real, can it?

I have to call Allie. I have no idea how to handle any of this, and she always figures things out way before I do. She’ll know what to do.

She picks up just before the call goes to voicemail, groggy and exhausted, but she listens attentively as I blurt out everything that happened last night. I tell her about Zade, how he got me the job at Hawthorne Enterprises, how he’s been trying to take care of me from the sidelines this whole time, how his patience ran out and he decided he wanted more. I tell her about him asking for a chance with me, like that makes any sense at all.

“Ok, take a breath,” Allie urges. “That’s… insane.”

I laugh in breathless agreement. Insane is putting it lightly.

“So he’s trying to clean up his image with the whole mall Santa thing, and he recognized you as the elf that first night at Eternity?” Her voice drips heavily with judgment when she continues, “and he didn’t tell you that night? He waited this long to tell you at all?”

I get where she’s coming from—I had the same worries last night when he told me.

“He didn’t want to break the NDAs at first,” I explain. “And he was worried his reputation would ruin things. He’s been trying to clean up his act, and he was nervous that he’d lose me if he told me.”

She hums in hesitant understanding.

“You think he’s being serious?” she asks slowly, trying to be gentle with the suggestion.

I spent the night pondering that same question.

“I do.” It’s kind of hard to say it out loud, but I couldn’t help but trust the look in those dark eyes when he told me he wanted more with me. “I don’t think he really knows how to show that without tossing money around, but I think he wants to try. I don’t know if it’ll work . I mean, he’s the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the city, and I’m barely making ends meet in a one-bedroom in the Bronx. It’s a big leap of faith, but I want to give it a shot.”

I know she’ll understand, even if I can’t put it all into words. She knows me better than I know myself.

“If you want to try, I think you should,” Allie says, although I can still hear a note of uncertainty in her voice. “It’s probably not going to be easy, but if anyone can change someone like him, it’s you.”

I can’t even comprehend that, but Allie’s advice has never steered me wrong before. I take a deep breath to calm myself down, endlessly grateful to have a friend like her.

“Now that I’ve rambled, how was your night?” I ask with a bashful laugh. “I didn’t see you before I left.”

She goes quiet before laughing awkwardly, and I sit up, worry and confusion swimming in my mind. It was shitty of me to leave without telling her, and if she’s mad at me, I’ll absolutely deserve it, but it sounds like there’s more to it.

“I—I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it,” she hedges. “I found out some stuff, and I just…”

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it,” I say gently. “As long as you’re safe, you can tell me whenever you want to. No rush.”

It’s one of the only times she’s refused to tell me details immediately, but I know better than to push. When she’s quiet about something, it’s because she needs time to think. She’ll tell me everything when she’s ready.

“Thanks, babes,” she says, sounding relieved. “I’ll tell you as soon as I figure out how to feel about it myself.”

We chat for a bit longer before I catch sight of the time and realize I need to get ready.

I shower once we get off the phone, taking the time to wash and style my hair. It takes forever to dry, and I’m certainly not a stylist, but I think it looks kind of close to the way the woman curled it last night. It makes me feel a little more certain of myself, more like I can handle being on Zade’s arm in public. I don’t know exactly what he has planned, but I want to let him show me whatever he thinks will win me over. I may not know Zade Hawthorne, but there’s this gut deep instinct that tells me I can trust him.

Maybe it’s because I’ve already trusted him with so much as my Elite, but something tells me that this—all of this—is right.

He shows up at my door half an hour after I finish getting ready, exactly on time.

“Morning,” he says, a shy smile on his face. “I, uh, got you these.”

He holds a massive bouquet of roses, and I glance between them and his face in shock. He’s wearing a pullover and corduroys and a long suede duster, less dressed up than I’ve ever seen him, but still looking like he stepped right out of a magazine.

“I—thank you,” I gush, a wide smile on my face. “Let me just find something to put them in.”

“Sure, I’ll help you arrange them.”

I startle a bit as he steps inside, not having planned on having him actually in my apartment. I’ve never been ashamed of my living situation before, and I’m not now, but seeing him against the backdrop of my cracked and fading countertops as I lead him into the kitchen makes me worry about what he’ll think.

He’s likely never been inside a rent-controlled building before, and everything about him looks far too expensive to be in my kitchen.

The only vase I have is beneath the sink. It seems like an insult to house such beautiful flowers in something I got from Goodwill years ago and have almost never used, but he seems perfectly happy to snip the ends of the roses with my ancient kitchen scissors and carefully arrange them in the vase.

“There,” he says proudly. “Looks perfect.”

I try not to dwell on my thoughts of how out of place he looks in my space, and how out of place I’ll probably look in his. There’s no use looking for flaws before even giving this a real shot. I wanted to see him outside of Eternity, and I’m finally getting to. He may have been the one to initiate this whole thing, but he’s being just as vulnerable as I am, showing me his real face, his real self.

Zade has his driver take us into the city, and we wander for hours, talking about nothing and everything. He insists we stop at every store that catches my eye, demanding that I let him spoil me, saying that I deserve whatever I want and more.

“I want to make it abundantly clear that I’m not trying to buy your affection,” he says after we walk out of yet another store that I refused to let him buy me anything in. “I know I keep trying to spend money on you, but I just… I haven’t ever gotten to do any of this, either.”

He twines our hands together, his fingers twitching nervously in mine as we wander aimlessly toward Central Park.

“You never spent the holidays shopping?” I ask with a laugh.

He’s richer than God , there’s no way he hasn’t done all of this before.

“Not really,” he says with a slight shrug. “The holidays were never a big deal in my family. Don’t get me wrong, I had everything I could ever ask for growing up, but my dad never really got out of the mindset he grew up in. He and his brother had it rough. His mom was an addict, and they got split up when they were taken into foster care.”

“Oh,” I say, a whisper-soft exhale of a word.

I always thought their family was from generational wealth of some sort. This was the last thing I expected Zade to say. It’s hard to reconcile my assumption that they all lived perfect, golden lives with the truth that his own father lived a life closer to my own.

“My dad worked his ass off to start Hawthorne Enterprises, built it from the ground up. He met my mom when he was in his late forties, after things started to really take off. She’s always been a bit of a socialite, and didn't care much about the business side of things. It was really important to her to help dad find his brother, though.”

He speaks of his mother softly, distant affection in his eyes. It doesn’t sound like they’re close, but it’s obvious he cares about her.

“His brother is Paxton, right?” I ask. “Your uncle?”

I’ve done a little research on the company after getting hired, and most of what’s available online is either slander about Zade’s behavior or jargon about acquisitions that I can only half-follow. I did find out that Paxton ran the company for several years after Zade’s father died before Zade took over as CEO.

“Yeah,” Zade says, smiling fondly. “He prefers just Pax. He was in a rough spot when my mom and dad found him. He has a son—Landon, you met him.” I do my best to hide my grimace as I remember the redhead who made me so uncomfortable at the office, but Zade looks like he finds the man just as distasteful. “Pax had a bad alcohol problem back then, and Landon’s mom was hooked on heroin, but it still took a serious legal battle to get him custody of Landon. My dad helped him get clean, got him into rehab, and gave him a job.”

He takes a deep breath, squeezing my hands tight. Honesty and pain dwell in his eyes, and I squeeze back, as reassuring as I can offer. The gesture seems to settle him a bit, and he smiles appreciatively before continuing.

“Dad died when I was seventeen. He was a good dad, and a good man, but he taught me to always focus on myself. It was what he had to do to survive, and I never learned any other way to live. I spent college fucking off and causing problems—partying and street racing and doing whatever I wanted. My life was easy, and I treated everything like a game. I never really paid attention to all the things that mattered to other people. The holidays were just another day to me until I saw how important they are to you.”

My heart twinges in my chest, affection warm in the back of my throat. I squeeze his hand tight, trying to find the words to show him how appreciative I am of him telling me all this. I know he’s trying to relate to me, to show me that he’s human, too, and that even if he never experienced it, he can understand how hard my life has been.

“Sorry,” he says, laughing awkwardly. “That was kind of heavy. I just—I want you to know that this is new for me, too. You’re not the only one out of your depth.”

I shoot him a warm, easy smile, nudging my shoulder against his arm as we walk. When he looks down at me, there’s a hint of pink on his cheeks. It’s a beautiful contrast with the snowflakes melting on his dark lashes, and it makes my heart flutter.

“I like doing new things with you,” I say.

“Ever been ice skating?” he asks.

A laugh bursts out of me at the unexpected change in topic, but I decide to just go with it. Today has already been one dream after another—stolen kisses in between bites of dumplings from street stalls, all the glittering lights of a perfect Manhattan Christmas season around us.

“Not since I was a kid,” I tell him.

“Good,” he says with a grin. “I’d be sad if you didn’t have to hold onto me.”

My mouth drops open when he leads me to the Wollman Rink, his driver already waiting for us with skates. Zade kneels in front of me to help me tie my laces, treating me like a princess and helping me out onto the ice while his driver stays with our bags.

We skate for what feels like hours, my legs burning with effort and the cold stinging my lungs, but I never want it to end.

Zade takes me to dinner after and orders one of everything he thinks I’ll like, feeding me bites and wiping sauce off the corner of my mouth like we’ve been doing this for years. There’s a sense of familiarity that I didn’t expect, all of the differences that seem so glaring when I look at the two of us on paper fading away into obscurity when I have his eyes on me.

It’s so easy to walk hand in hand with him through Central Park, his coat draped over my shoulders as the snow drifts lazily down. It’s even prettier out here at night, the shining lights sparkling in time with the stars overhead. It’s like something straight out of a movie. Groups of carolers sing, buckets or guitar cases in front of them to gather loose change as people pass by. Several other couples are doing the same thing we are, walking and talking and soaking in the holiday spirit.

He pulls me to a stop, turning to capture my lips in a slow and tender kiss before pulling away while keeping my cheek cradled in his palm. The glittering Christmas lights littered throughout the park reflect in the darkness of his eyes, making them look like they have stars in them, and his hair shines an inky black.

“I stopped caring about everything when I lost my dad. I lost myself along with him, and I pretended like I didn’t care. I made myself believe that I didn’t care for a long time.” Zade’s lips twitch into a sardonic grin, bittersweet memories playing behind his eyes. “And then I met you. I don’t know everything, but I know enough to know that you understand my dad’s life better than I ever can. You understand it, you’ve experienced it, and you’re still a better person than I’ve ever even tried to be.”

I disentangle from his hold before reaching up to cup his face in both hands. His cheeks are cold against my palms, his breath puffing out in a cloud as he sighs in relief.

“There’s no reason you can’t start trying now,” I say hopefully. I know he’s not a perfect man. I’ve read the headlines, heard the rumors. But no one is perfect. And there’s nothing in the rulebook of life that says you can’t change. “The best part about being human is that we can change. You don’t have to be the person you were five minutes ago. My mom chose drugs over me, but my grandma chose me every day. She chose kindness and compassion, and she kept choosing it. She’s the reason that I can be so happy even if life isn’t going the way I want it to. She’s my role model, and every day of my life, I wake up and choose to try to be like her. People wish for things to happen all the time. I wish for my grandma to never feel alone, even when I can’t be with her, for Allie to do what makes her happy, and for the kids at the children’s home to never worry about what their future holds. But something I’ve realized is that wishing is just as easy as choosing. You can make whatever choice you want to, Zade, but if you want to change, all you have to do is choose to.”

Zade huffs out a soft laugh, closing his eyes and tilting his face into my hands. He looks a little overwhelmed, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him be, and it makes me want to pull him close and hold him. I rub my thumbs over his cheekbones, feeling some of the facade of strength and cold superiority fade away with the movement.

As much as his life has been easy, he’s just as damaged, just as raw and desperate for care as anybody else.

“You’ve been so worried about making sure I get everything I want today. Isn’t it fair for you to get a Christmas wish, too?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a display of easy joy that I haven’t seen from him yet. His eyes are full of so much emotion that it’s almost hard to look at him when he answers me.

“I thought, for a really long time, that I had everything I wanted. Nothing was ever interesting for more than a few days, not until I met you. I met you, and I started wanting things I’d never thought about before. A life, a home. A family. If I got a Christmas wish, the only thing on my list would be you, Clara.”

My breath hitches in my chest, raw emotion slamming into me like a tidal wave. I blink back overwhelmed, thrilled tears even as I shake my head.

“I can’t be worth that much to you,” I say, a breathless laugh coloring my words.

Zade smiles, soft and sure, and reaches up to grasp my wrists. He holds my hands against his face as he leans down to take my lips in a kiss. It’s warm and slow, full of the same magnetism that usually has us tearing at each other’s clothes, but edged with a new tenderness, a new certainty of what this is between us.

“You are,” he says simply. “You’re worth everything to me, little one.”

We stand in silence, forehead to forehead, sharing air, sharing space. Christmas has always felt magical to me, special and bright, but this is something I could have never imagined. I didn’t even know I wanted to mean this much to someone, but my heart is bursting with joy.

“Come home with me?” he asks.