Page 46 of The Holiday Makeover

Besides, I refused to mix our personal and professional lives again. I wouldn’t let our relationship be a commodity.

“And that’s all that matters to them,” he said. “How well rated their son is.”

He pressed his palms to the counter, head bowed. Sweat dripped from his temple onto the dusty surface.

“Never mind that it’s me who has to deal with the real shame and scrutiny,” he said quietly. “The whispers behind my back that I’ll never live up to the Ryder name.”

My heart cracked clean in two. It was the first time he’d truly acknowledged his feelings on the matter. He’d danced around them before, but he’d always seemed afraid to fully admit them. As if doing so would make him weak or less than.

“And what’s worse,” he said, voice barely above the guitar riff blasting from the speakers, “is that it’s just going to tear you and me further apart when I want nothing to do with Aspen Lake because of it.”

He finally looked at me then—and the pain in his eyes was a punch to the ribs. And so was the realization that there were no easy fixes. Coco hadn’t left us a simple makeover; she’d left us a blueprint for a major redesign. And I didn’t know if we had the tools for it. Or the courage.

But everything hinged on one question. One truth I needed before I could even begin to touch his hurt. Or mine.

“Was what we had real, Tate?”

I’d asked myself that question a thousand times. This wasn’t about whether he’d loved me. I needed to know if he’d loved me, or the version of me that helped build his dream. The girl who made him look good on camera. The partner who’d helped him land prime time. The one fans still whispered about when they stopped him in public.

Tate didn’t hesitate. “Every single second.”

His answer settled deep inside of me. But . . . “Then why did you leave me when I no longer wanted to be in the spotlight?”

Tate edged closer, debris crunching under his boots. He had the same look in his eyes he’d had before he kissed me for the first time. The one that said, I’m going to rock your world to the core, and you’re never going to come back from it.

And I never had.

I held my breath and squeezed the counter tighter, as if it could offer me refuge. A tether before I jumped too quickly back into Tate’s arms. We had things to figure out. Lots of things. This was no time for me to lose my head. I’d already given Tate my heart and my soul years ago. My head was all I had left to me.

Tate stopped inches away from me. The fierce—bordering on feral—look in his eyes hadn’t gone anywhere.

“I’ve asked myself that every day for the last two years,” he rumbled. “But I think it’s because I thought you knew what you were signing up for when you chose me. That you knew the spotlight was part of the package. The spotlight is all I’ve ever known. Look at my parents. They were media darlings before there was even social media. Hell, they got engaged during the Super Bowl halftime show. And honestly, I didn’t think you minded the package.”

He paused, shaking his head, breath rough and uneven.

“Or at least I pretended you didn’t,” he said quietly. “Because this is the only life I’ve ever known. Who am I without it? I don’t know if I can handle the answer. But I know I don’t want to be without you.”

My eyes betrayed me, and a single tear escaped and rolled down my cheek, broadcasting how much I didn’t want to be without him.

Tate stepped in, closing the gap with that quiet certainty he’d always had. His thumb lifted, slow and gentle, giving me every chance to pull away, before he brushed the tear from my cheek with the softest touch. His gaze locked on mine—steady, intent, the kind of look that always said, I dare you to resist me.

A little part of me wanted to. The part of my brain still functioning. The one with all the pain receptors. It knew exactly what was in store for us if things went wrong again. It tried to remind me that I’d never really gotten over him walking out the door two years ago.

But here he was. Close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him. The air between us felt charged, familiar, and dangerous—at least for my heart.

I dared to reach up and let my fingers brush his stubbled cheek with a tentative touch that felt like opening an old door I wasn’t sure I was ready to walk through.

Tate smiled and caught my hand, holding it gently between us. His gaze focused entirely on me, as if he were memorizing the moment. His lips didn’t touch mine, but they hovered, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath.

I took a moment to breathe in the mint on it. It was as sweet and familiar as I remembered, and for a heartbeat I felt myself slipping. But this was moving too fast. If we kissed now, I was toast.

His kisses were lethal. In the best way.

“Let’s go on a picnic and then go sledding,” I blurted.

Tate blinked, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right. “It’s ten o’clock at night and it’s freezing outside.”

“And?” I questioned, as if everyone went on picnics in the middle of winter.