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

14. Broken Hearts

14

brOKEN HEARTS

ELLIE

I stand frozen in the middle of the ballroom, the world spinning around me in a blur of twinkling lights and festive cheer. But I can't feel any of it. All I hear are Max's words, echoing in my head like a cruel mantra.

"She's... she's a friend. I'm not sure what's next for us."

The pain is immediate and overwhelming, a physical ache that threatens to bring me to my knees. How could he? After everything we've shared, after the night we spent together, how could he dismiss me so easily?

I force myself to take a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. I can't break down here, not in front of all these people. Not in front of Max and his in-laws, who are still standing just a few feet away, their eyes boring into me with a mixture of suspicion and triumph.

I turn on my heel, my emerald gown swishing around my legs as I make my way through the crowd. Faces blur past me – smiling, laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that my world is crumbling around me. I paste on a smile, nodding and murmuring vague excuses as I weave between clusters of New York's elite.

"Family emergency," I hear myself saying to someone who tries to stop me. "I'm so sorry, I have to go."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it's easier than admitting the truth. Easier than saying, "I just overheard the man I love tell his dead wife's parents that I mean nothing to him."

As I near the exit, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the ornate mirrors lining the walls. The woman staring back at me is a stranger – her eyes wide and haunted, her carefully applied makeup now slightly smudged. Is this really me? The strong, independent Ellie Hawthorne who swore she'd never let a man break her heart again?

I tear my gaze away from the mirror and push through the heavy doors, leaving behind the warmth and light of the gala. The hallway beyond is quiet, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I make my way towards the elevators.

With each step, the reality of what just happened sinks in deeper. This was supposed to be my night of triumph. The Wellington Christmas Charity Gala – my creation, my vision brought to life. I poured my heart and soul into every detail, from the twinkling lights cascading from the ceiling to the ice sculptures glittering at strategic points around the room.

And it wasn't just about the professional success. Tonight was supposed to be the culmination of everything Max and I had been building towards. After our night together, I thought... God, I was so stupid. I thought we were finally on the same page, ready to build a future together.

The elevator arrives with a soft ding, and I step inside, grateful for the moment of solitude. As the doors slide closed, I lean against the cool metal wall and close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing.

How could I have been so blind? The signs were there all along – Max's hesitation, his guilt over moving on after Laura's death. But I ignored them all, too caught up in my own hopes and dreams.

The elevator descends, and with each floor, I feel my professional pride crumbling along with my personal hopes. This gala was meant to be my crowning achievement, the event that would cement my reputation as one of New York's top event planners. Now, it feels tainted, a bitter reminder of everything I've lost.

When the doors open on the ground floor, I steel myself for the final gauntlet – the opulent lobby of The Wellington. I keep my head high as I walk through, nodding politely to the staff who smile and congratulate me on the success of the gala. If only they knew.

The moment I step outside, the cold December air hits me like a slap to the face. I welcome it, letting the chill numb some of the pain that's threatening to overwhelm me. The streets of New York stretch out before me, a maze of twinkling lights and holiday decorations that seem to mock my misery.

I start walking, with no real destination in mind. My heels click against the pavement, the sound echoing in the relative quiet of the night. Around me, the city bustles with its usual energy – late-night revelers, tourists marveling at the Christmas displays, couples walking hand in hand.

I've never felt more alone.

With each step, Max's words replay in my mind, a torturous loop that I can't seem to escape. "She's... she's a friend. I'm not sure what's next for us."

Friend. Is that all I am to him? After everything we've shared, after the connection we've built, not just with each other but with Amelia too... how can he reduce it all to just friendship?

I think back to that night in his penthouse, the way he held me, the promises we whispered in the dark. Was it all a lie? Or worse, was it real in the moment, only for Max to retreat back into his shell of guilt and grief the moment reality intruded?

A couple passes by, laughing and sharing a hot chocolate. The sight of their easy intimacy sends a fresh wave of pain through me. That could have been Max and me, strolling through the city, enjoying the holiday season together. Now, it feels like nothing more than a foolish dream.

I turn down a quieter street, needing to escape the cheerful crowds. The Christmas lights strung between the buildings cast a soft glow, but instead of feeling magical, it just emphasizes how out of place I feel. Like I'm watching the world through a pane of glass, separated from all the joy and warmth around me.

As I walk, my thoughts drift to Laura, Max's late wife. The woman I've been competing with all along, though I didn't fully realize it until now. How can I possibly measure up to a ghost? To the perfect memory of a love lost too soon?

I remember the way Max's face would soften when he talked about her, the sadness that would creep into his eyes. At the time, I thought I was helping him heal, that our love was strong enough to overcome the past. Now, I see how naive I was.

I was never anything more than a placeholder, was I? A warm body to fill the void Laura left behind, someone to help raise Amelia and keep Max's bed warm at night. But when it came down to it, when he was faced with the judgment of Laura's parents, I wasn't enough. I'll never be enough.

The realization hits me like a physical blow, and I stumble, catching myself against a nearby building. The rough brick scrapes my palm, but the pain is nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

I've been such a fool. I let myself believe in the fairy tale – the handsome widower, the adorable little girl, the chance at a ready-made family. I thought I could be the one to heal Max's broken heart, to help him move on and build a new life.

But the truth is, Max never fully let go of Laura. And how can I blame him? She was his wife, the mother of his child. They had a history, a connection that I could never hope to match.

I push off from the wall and continue walking, my steps growing more determined with each block. The pain is still there, raw and throbbing, but now it's joined by something else – resolve.

I can't do this anymore. I can't keep giving pieces of myself to a man who isn't ready or willing to fully commit to me. I deserve better than to be someone's second choice, always living in the shadow of a ghost.

By the time I reach my apartment building, my mind is made up. I have to walk away. It's the only way to protect what's left of my heart.

The elevator ride up to my floor feels endless. When I finally unlock my door and step inside, the silence of my apartment hits me like a physical force. Just this morning, I left here full of excitement and hope for the future. Now, I return broken and alone.

I kick off my heels and sink onto the couch, not bothering to turn on the lights. In the darkness, I finally let the tears come. They fall hot and fast, sobs wracking my body as I curl in on myself.

I cry for the love I thought I had found. For the future I had started to imagine with Max and Amelia. For the little girl who had wormed her way into my heart, who I'll now have to leave behind.

But most of all, I cry for myself. For the Ellie who dared to hope, who opened her heart despite her fears, only to have it shattered all over again.

As the tears finally slow, I'm left feeling hollow, wrung out. The pain is still there, a dull ache in my chest, but it's joined now by a sense of resolve.

I can't stay in Max's life. Not after this. Not when I know that I'll always be competing with Laura's memory, always wondering if I measure up. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to Amelia, who deserves more than a stand-in mother figure who might disappear at any moment.

Walking away will hurt. God, it will hurt so much. But staying, always wondering if I'm enough, always waiting for Max to fully commit... that would hurt even more.

I stand up, moving to the window. The city stretches out before me, a sea of twinkling lights and possibilities. Somewhere out there, Max is probably still at the gala, playing the part of the charming host. Does he even realize I'm gone? Does he care?

The thought sends a fresh wave of pain through me, but I push it down. It doesn't matter now. I've made my decision. Tomorrow, I'll call the hotel and resign from my position as event planner. I'll send Max a message, telling him that I can't do this anymore. And then... then I'll start rebuilding my life. Without him.

As I turn away from the window, my eyes fall on the scrapbook I've been working on, filled with pictures of Max, Amelia, and me. Happy moments frozen in time, reminders of the family I thought I was becoming a part of.

For a moment, I'm tempted to throw it away, to erase all evidence of this painful chapter in my life. But I can't bring myself to do it. Despite everything, I can't regret the time I spent with them. The love I felt – still feel – was real, even if it wasn't enough in the end.

I curl up on the couch again, hugging a pillow to my chest. The silence of the apartment feels oppressive now, a stark reminder of how alone I truly am.

Did I make the right choice in walking away? Should I have stayed, fought for Max, tried to make him see that what we have is worth fighting for?

No. I shake my head, trying to dispel the doubts. I made the right decision. I have to believe that.

But as I sit there in the dark, my heart aching and my mind racing, I can't help but wonder: Will Max even fight for me? Or is this truly the end of our story?

The questions hang in the air, unanswered. And as the first light of dawn begins to creep through my windows, I'm left alone with my broken heart and the crushing weight of everything I've lost.