Christmas with My Grumpy Ex (Feuding Hearts Christmas #1)

6. A Christmas Proposal

6

A CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL

ELLIE

I jolt awake to "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" blaring from my phone. For a second, I'm lost between dream and reality, the cozy warmth of my bed tempting me to stay put.

"Face the world, Ellie Cat," I mutter, dragging myself up. The childhood nickname does its job, getting me moving when all I want is to curl up with a book and hot cider.

Sunlight streams through the curtains, its golden rays dancing playfully with the twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around my cozy brownstone. I plant my feet on the plush rug, feeling the soft fibers beneath me. The air is infused with the fresh scent of pine from my Christmas tree. There's also a lingering hint of mint from last night's candle, wrapping me in warmth and comfort as I take in the festive atmosphere.

New York's already buzzing with holiday energy. I can almost hear the street performers and shoppers bustling outside. The city's in full Christmas mode, and here I am, caught between past and present.

Max Wellington .

His name sends a shiver through me. That kiss, the ballroom, his intense gaze... I shake it off. I've got work to do. The gala won't plan itself.

I stretch and hit play on the stereo. R&B Christmas tunes fill the room as I tidy up, my hands moving to the beat. But my mind keeps drifting to Max. How he's changed. How he's stayed the same.

"Enough," I scold myself, determined to focus on work.

No more distractions.

Downstairs in my office, the scent of fresh coffee wafts from the kitchen. My workspace is organized chaos—mood boards and fabric swatches everywhere. I take a deep breath, letting it ground me.

This is passion. I lose myself in colors, textures, details. It's a welcome escape from the emotional whirlwind Max's reappearance stirred up.

I settle at my desk, booting up my laptop and sipping coffee as I review gala plans. Vendors, decor, entertainment—it's all coming together. Except for one glaring complication: Max Wellington himself.

How am I supposed to work with him? To coordinate this event with the man who once held my heart? Whose kiss still lingers, haunting quiet moments?

I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. The gala is my priority, my chance to prove myself in this city. I can't let personal history derail my professional ambitions.

Still, as I pore over details, making notes and adjustments, Max's face keeps flickering in my mind. His crinkled eyes when he smiles, his laugh, his hands on my skin...

I shake my head, forcing myself back to the present.

"Get it together, Ellie," I mutter, gulping more coffee.

The doorbell rings. I glance at the clock, grateful for the distraction. Right on time. I buzz my team in, steeling myself for the day ahead.

As they file in, chatting and laughing, I smile. This is my crew, my support system in this still-new, overwhelming city. With them, I can tackle anything—even the ghost of Max Wellington.

Zoe, Zeus, and Willow burst in, bundled up against the cold, arms full of bags and binders.

"Morning, boss!" Zoe chirps, already flipping through her clipboard. "Patricia's fitting at noon, centerpiece designs to finalize, and florist follow-ups for Thursday's event."

Zeus rolls in garment bags over one arm, winking. "Ready to work some magic?"

I grin, gesturing them inside. "Always."

We head to the dining room, our makeshift office. The table's covered in fabric swatches, sketches, and centerpiece samples. Christmas music plays softly as we dive into work.

"Okay, team," I say, clapping my hands. "Let's start with Thursday's event. Zoe, where are we with the florists?"

Zoe's already typing on her tablet. "Three options narrowed down. I've got mock-ups ready for your approval."

"Perfect. Let's see them."

She pulls up the images, and we huddle around her screen. I point to the second design. "This one. But can we swap out the red roses for white? That red will clash with the rest of the decor."

Zoe nods, making notes. "Got it. I'll confirm with the florist today."

I turn to Zeus. "How are the alterations coming for Mrs. Carmichael's gown?"

Zeus grins, patting one of the garment bags. "Just finished last night. Want to see?"

"Absolutely."

They unzip the bag, revealing a stunning silver gown. I run my hand over the fabric, admiring the intricate beadwork.

"Zeus, this is gorgeous. Mrs. Carmichael will love it."

Zeus beams with pride. "Thanks, boss. I added some extra sparkle to the bodice. Thought it'd catch the light nicely on the dance floor."

"Brilliant idea. Now, Willow, talk to me about makeup for the Wellington gala. What are you thinking?"

Willow pulls out their sketchpad, flipping to a page of face charts. "I'm leaning towards a classic look with a modern twist. Smoky eyes, but with a hint of silver to tie into the winter theme. And for lips, a deep berry that'll pop in photos but won't overpower."

I nod, studying the sketches. "I love it. Make sure we have options for different skin tones. We want everyone to feel their best."

"Already on it," Willow assures me. "I've got a full range of shades ready to go."

"Excellent work, everyone," I say, feeling a surge of pride in my team. "Now, let's talk centerpieces for the gala."

We spend the next hour debating flower choices, vase heights, and candle placements. It's detailed work, but it's what will make the gala truly spectacular.

As we wrap up, Zoe catches my eye. "So, boss... any new developments with certain Wellingtons?"

I blink, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

She raises an eyebrow, grinning. "Come on, Ellie. You've been spending time with the Wellington family—Patricia, Max... Ring any bells?"

I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool. "It's work, Zoe. I'm focused on the gala."

"Mmm-hmm. Sure. Work." She wiggles her eyebrows. "But you can't deny you've been hanging out with the boss after hours."

I sigh, knowing I can't dodge this forever. "Max and I... we knew each other. Back in college."

Zoe's eyes widen. "Wait, you and Max Wellington were a thing?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it," I say, waving her off. "It was a long time ago."

Zoe tilts her head, her expression softening. "How does it feel seeing him now? Knowing he's moved on, has a daughter, a whole life...?"

I pause, the question hitting harder than I expect. How does it feel? Seeing Max again has stirred up so much I thought I'd buried. But he has Amelia now. He has responsibilities I'm not a part of. And the life I thought would be ours.

"It's complicated," I finally say, my voice soft. "Really complicated."

Zeus and Willow exchange glances, clearly intrigued by this revelation.

"Ellie," Zeus says gently, "you know we've got your back, right? Whatever happens with this Wellington situation."

Willow nods emphatically. "Absolutely. We're here for you, professionally and personally."

Their support warms me, reminding me why I love this team so much. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate that more than you know."

Zoe checks her watch. "Don't you have that market thing with Max and his daughter soon?"

I glance at the time, realizing she's right. "Shoot, I need to get going."

As I gather my things, Zoe gives me a knowing smile. "Go get 'em, boss. And remember, we want the tea later."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Dream on, Rivera. Now, let's focus on work. Zeus, I need those sketches for Patricia's gala gown by tomorrow morning. Willow, can you put together a mood board for the makeup looks? And Zoe?—"

"Follow up with the florists, finalize the centerpiece order, and start on the seating chart. Got it, boss," Zoe finishes for me.

I smile, grateful for their efficiency. "What would I do without you all?"

"Crash and burn," Zeus teases. "Now go, before you're late for your not-date with Mr. Wellington."

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. "It's not a date. It's... work-adjacent."

"Sure, boss. Whatever you say," Willow chimes in, grinning.

As I head for the door, I turn back to my team. "Seriously, thank you all. For everything. This business, these events... I couldn't do it without you."

They beam back at me, and for a moment, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. This team, this work—it's everything I've dreamed of.

"Alright, enough mushy stuff," I say, composing myself. "Let's make this gala the talk of the town. Call me if you need me. I'm out!"

With a final wave, I step out into the crisp December air rushing to the marketing, wondering if they have smoked turkey legs because I'm hungry.

I step out of the cab at the Christmas market entrance, the chill of December air wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. Twinkling lights dance overhead, casting a magical glow on the vibrant festive stalls and the smiling faces that seem to radiate joy.

I pause for a moment, allowing the enchanting atmosphere to envelop me. I pull out my phone and snap a few pictures, capturing the kaleidoscope of colors and the spirit of the season.

The scene before me is straight out of a Hallmark movie—a picturesque winter wonderland filled with laughter and warmth. For just a heartbeat, I forget about my responsibilities and why I'm really here.

As I linger, admiring the enchanting decorations, I hear a familiar voice pierce through the festive sounds of laughter and holiday cheer.

"Miss Ellie! Look at the giant candy canes!"

I turn to see Amelia, her face lit up with pure delight, tugging insistently at my hand. Her eyes are wide with wonder.

"Can we get one? Please?" she pleads, her enthusiasm infectious.

I glance at Max, who's watching us with a soft smile I've rarely seen since our reunion. "What do you think, Mr. Wellington? Is it too early for sugar?"

Max chuckles, a rich sound that sends an unexpected warmth through my chest. "It's Max. You don't have to be so formal, Ellie. And I suppose one candy cane won't hurt. It is Christmas, after all."

As Amelia skips ahead to the candy stall, I remind myself that this is a professional outing. I'm here to gather ideas for the gala, to understand the Wellington family's Christmas traditions. Not to get swept up in Max's charm or the adorable enthusiasm of his daughter.

"So, tell me about the gala," I say, forcing my tone to remain casual. "What has it meant to your family over the years?"

Max's expression grows thoughtful as we follow Amelia. "It's always been more than just a social event for us. My father started it to give back to the community, but it became a family tradition. A chance for us to come together and create some magic for others."

I nod, making mental notes. "And your mother? Patricia mentioned it was particularly special to her."

"Mom always saw it as an opportunity to spread joy," Max says, his voice softening. "She'd spend weeks planning every detail, making sure each guest felt like part of our family for the night."

As we reach the candy stall, Amelia bounces on her toes, pointing at a massive rainbow-swirled candy cane. Max buys it for her, along with two smaller ones for us. The vendor hands them over with a wink, he looks at Max and me as if we're a picture-perfect family.

We continue our stroll through the market, Amelia leading the way with her giant candy cane. I try to focus on gathering ideas for the gala, but I find myself drawn into the warmth of the moment. Max seems more relaxed than I've seen him since our reunion, his attention fully on making this day special for Amelia.

As we pass a craft station where children are making ornaments, Max leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. "Can we stop here for a bit? Amelia loves this kind of thing."

I nod, ignoring the shiver that runs down my spine at his proximity. We settle Amelia at a table covered in glitter, paint, and tiny wooden ornaments. As she gets to work, her tongue poking out in concentration, Max turns to me with an intensity that catches me off guard.

"I wanted to thank you for coming today," he says quietly. "This... it means a lot to me. To us."

I swallow hard, thrown by the vulnerability in his voice. "Of course. I'm happy to help with the gala preparations."

Max shakes his head slightly. "It's more than that. Since Laura..." He pauses, pain flashing across his face. "Since we lost her, Amelia hasn't really believed in the magic of Christmas. It's been hard for me to bring that back for her."

My heart clenches at the raw emotion in his voice. This is a side of Max I haven't seen in years—the one that used to bare his soul to me late at night, whispering his dreams and fears in the darkness of my dorm room.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his arm. "That must be so difficult for both of you."

Max nods, his gaze fixed on Amelia. "It is. But seeing her today, with you... she seems happier. More like her old self."

I'm not sure how to respond to that. The professional part of me wants to steer the conversation back to the gala, but the part that still cares for Max—more than I'd like to admit—wants to comfort him.

"Daddy look!"

Max heads over and she turns it in my direction.

I crouch down next to Amelia, admiring her handiwork. "This is amazing, sweetie! You're a true artist."

Her face lights up at the praise. "Do you like it, Miss Ellie? I made it for you!"

My heart melts a little at her sweet gesture. "I love it, Amelia. Thank you."

Max watches our exchange with a soft smile. "She's taken quite a shine to you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual," I reply, giving Amelia's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "She's an absolute delight."

Amelia beams, basking in the attention. "Can we get hot chocolate now, Daddy? With extra marshmallows?"

"You read my mind, Mellie Bear." Max ruffles her curls. "Why don't you go pick out a table while Miss Ellie and I grab the drinks?"

"Stay where we can see you," I add.

As Amelia scampers off, Max turns to me, his expression unreadable. "Thank you...for today. For being so wonderful with her."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. "Of course. She makes it easy."

Our eyes meet, and for a charged moment, it's like we're the only two people in the bustling market. Then Amelia calls out, shattering the spell.

We take our time interacting with the vendors and catching up. As we move on to the next stall, Max turns the conversation to me.

I take a sip of my hot chocolate, savoring the rich flavor before responding. "The transition has been exciting, if I'm being honest. In LA, I was focused on personal styling and branding for individual clients. But event planning allows me to create entire immersive experiences."

Max nods, his eyes focused intently on me. "I can see how that would appeal to your creative side."

"Exactly." I lean forward, my passion for the subject bubbling up. "It's not just about dressing someone for an event. It's about crafting a cohesive narrative through every detail - the decor, lighting, entertainment. Weaving it all together into something truly memorable."

"Sounds like a massive undertaking," he remarks. "How do you even begin to tackle something like the Wellington Gala?"

I can't help but smile at his genuine interest. "This isn't a typical event since Patricia had a lot of the major decisions made. It was about executing the vision and scaling it due to size."

We walk a little and I continue. "But even with the plans it always starts with understanding the client's vision and the event's purpose. For the gala, it's about celebrating the season while raising funds for important causes. So every element needs to reflect that, from the winter wonderland theme to the interactive charity components."

Amelia pipes up from her seat beside Max. "Like what, Miss Ellie? What kind of fun stuff are you planning?"

Chuckling, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Well, Amelia, I'm mostly carrying out the ideas Gigi created. But I'm adding a jazz quartet, decor, menu, and special elements that reflect my signature style. That I make it enjoyable for the adults and the children in attendance."

Her eyes light up. "That sounds so cool!"

I straighten, my gaze meeting his again. "Of course, the gala itself is just one aspect of what I do. My team and I handle everything from intimate dinner parties to large-scale corporate events."

"It's an impressive operation," Max acknowledges. "How did you build it up so quickly after relocating from the West Coast?"

Ducking my head, I try to tamp down the swell of pride his words evoke. "A lot of hard work and more than a few sleepless nights. But I was fortunate to have connections in the industry who helped get my name out there."

"I'll bet." His lips quirk in a half-smile. "I can't imagine the Ellie Hawthorne I knew settling for anything less than excellence."

There's a hint of teasing in his tone, but also a undercurrent of something deeper - nostalgia, perhaps. A reminder of the easy camaraderie we once shared.

I return his smile, allowing myself to bask in the warmth of our banter for a moment. "Well, you know me. I never do anything halfway."

"No, you certainly don't." His gaze holds mine, the shared history between us floating to the surface.

Amelia tugs on Max's sleeve. "Daddy, can we go look at the ornaments again? I want to make one for Gigi."

"Of course, sweetpea." Max tears his eyes away from mine, his expression softening as he looks at his daughter. "Why don't you go pick out the supplies you need? I'll be right there."

As Amelia scampers off, Max turns back to me, his manner shifting subtly - more serious, almost hesitant. "Ellie, I... I wanted to thank you again. For today."

I tilt my head, studying the conflicting emotions playing across his features. "You don't need to thank me, Max. I'm happy to be here."

"No, I do." He exhales slowly. "This day, spending time together like this... it means more than you know. Especially with everything coming up for the holidays."

My chest tightens at the raw vulnerability in his voice. This man, who once bared his soul to me so freely, is now guarded.

"I'm glad I could help create some happy memories," I say softly. "For you and Amelia both."

Max holds my gaze for a long moment, as if he wants to say more. But then Amelia calls out to him, and the moment passes.

He offers me a small, grateful smile. "I should go help her before she tries to make off with the entire craft station."

"Of course." I return his smile, pushing aside the lingering sense of unfinished business between us. "I'll be right here when you're ready to go."

By the time we're ready to leave, Amelia is fast asleep in Max's arms, her face sticky with candy cane residue and a contented smile on her lips. As we climb into the waiting SUV, I'm struck by how natural this feels—like we're a real family returning from a day out.

Max settles Amelia carefully in her seat, then turns to me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"Ellie," he says softly, "I have a personal proposition for you."

I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way my heart speeds up. "Oh, really?"

"Be my Christmas girlfriend."

The words hang in the air between us, charged with a tension I can't quite name. "Your... Christmas girlfriend?" I repeat, not sure I've heard him correctly.

Max nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "It would be beneficial for both of us. You'd attend social events with me, be my shield against the endless parade of eligible women my mother keeps throwing at me. And in return, I'd make sure you're in the right rooms to grow your business."

I blink, trying to process what he's saying. "So, it would be... fake dating?"

"Exactly," Max says, his voice low and intense. "You'd be mine for Christmas."

The way he says "mine" release a wave of butterflies in my gut. Part of me wants to bolt, to run as far as I can from the complicated emotions Max stirs up in me. But another part—the part that's been struggling to get my business off the ground—is intrigued by the offer.

"What if I say no?"

"You'll handle the gala and surely gain some referrals," Max says. "And I won't ask again."

I nod slowly, considering. "And if I say yes?"

Max's eyes darken. "I'll avoid being ambushed at every event, and I get to show you both my Christmas magic."

The air between us feels electric. "Are kisses required?" I dare to ask, feeling the temperature in the car rise.

"No," Max says quickly, but his eyes tell a different story.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that Max broke my heart once before. I can keep it under lock and key this time, can't I? Use this opportunity to build my business and pay my team?

"Shall we kiss on it?" Max asks, a hint of his old playfulness in his voice.

I shake my head, extending my hand instead. "Let's keep the lines clear," I say. "So no one gets hurt. Again ."

The word "again" seems to douse the fire between us. Max takes my hand, shaking it firmly. "Challenge accepted."