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

15. The Weight of Regret

15

THE WEIGHT OF REGRET

MAX

The last guest finally leaves, and I'm left standing alone in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by the remnants of what should have been a triumphant evening. The twinkling lights mock me, reminding me of the spark in Ellie's eyes that I've just extinguished.

"Ellie," I whisper, pulling out my phone with trembling hands. I dial her number, my heart pounding as it rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail.

"Ellie, please," I say, my voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. What I said to the Campbells... it wasn't true. Please, call me back. We need to talk."

I end the call and immediately dial again. And again. And again. Each time, I'm met with the same result - her voicemail greeting, followed by the beep that signals my chance to leave another desperate message.

"Mr. Wellington?" A staff member approaches cautiously. "Is there anything else you need before we start cleaning up?"

I shake my head, barely registering their words. My eyes scan the room, hoping against hope that I'll see a flash of emerald green, that Ellie will appear and give me a chance to explain. But she's gone, and the crushing weight of what I've done settles over me like a suffocating blanket.

I stumble out of the ballroom, loosening my tie as I make my way to the elevator. My phone buzzes in my hand - a text from my mother.

"Darling, the gala was a tremendous success. You and Ellie should be so proud. Will you be picking up Amelia tomorrow, or should I keep her for the weekend?"

Amelia. My sweet, innocent daughter who adores Ellie. How am I going to explain this to her? The thought sends a fresh wave of panic through me.

I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse floor. As the doors close, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the polished metal. I hardly recognize the man staring back at me - his eyes haunted, his expression a mask of guilt and regret.

The ride up feels endless. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes as memories of the night flood my mind. The way Ellie looked in that emerald dress, her eyes shining with pride as she moved through the crowd. The warmth of her hand in mine as we greeted guests together. And then... the moment it all fell apart.

I see Laura's parents' faces, their eyes cold and accusing. I hear my own voice, weak and cowardly, denying the depth of my feelings for Ellie. And worst of all, I see the hurt in Ellie's eyes, the betrayal etched across her beautiful face as she backed away from me.

The elevator dings, jolting me back to the present. I step out into the hallway, my feet carrying me to my penthouse door on autopilot. As I fumble with the key, my phone buzzes again. A text from Carson.

"Hey bro, great event tonight. You and Ellie knocked it out of the park. Everything okay? You seemed off at the end there."

I ignore the message, pushing open the door and stepping into the dark, empty apartment. The silence is deafening, a stark contrast to the bustling gala I've just left. I don't bother turning on the lights, instead making my way straight to the study.

My hands shake as I reach for the bottle of whiskey on the shelf. I pour a generous amount into a glass, not bothering with ice. The first sip burns going down, but I welcome the sensation. Anything to dull the ache in my chest.

I sink into the leather armchair behind my desk, loosening my bow tie and undoing the top button of my shirt. The whiskey glass is cool against my forehead as I lean forward, elbows on the desk.

"What have I done?" I whisper into the darkness.

My phone buzzes again, this time with a call from Andy. I silence it, unable to face my family's concern right now. They don't know what happened. They don't know that I've ruined everything.

I take another long swig of whiskey, relishing the burn. My mind wanders back to last night, to the moment everything changed between Ellie and me. I close my eyes, remembering the softness of her skin, the way she whispered my name, the feeling of completeness I experienced in her arms.

And now... now I've thrown it all away.

The whiskey isn't working fast enough. I pour another glass, larger this time. As I drink, I replay the moment with Laura's parents over and over in my head. Why didn't I stand up to them? Why couldn't I tell them the truth - that I love Ellie, that she's not just some replacement for Laura, but the woman who's brought light back into my life?

My cowardice disgusts me. I've been holding onto my guilt over Laura's death for so long, letting it control me, letting it sabotage my chance at happiness with Ellie. And for what? To appease the judgement of people who will never understand?

I drain the glass and pour another. The room is starting to spin slightly, but I welcome the disorientation. It's better than facing the reality of what I've done.

My phone buzzes again - a voicemail from my mother this time. I listen to it, her concerned voice filling the quiet room.

"Max, darling, it's Mom. I hope everything's alright. You seemed upset when you left the gala. Please call me back when you can. And remember, Amelia needs you. Don't shut yourself away, sweetheart."

Amelia. My beautiful, innocent daughter. The thought of her sends a fresh wave of pain through me. How can I face her after this? How can I explain that I've driven away the woman she's grown to love?

I think back to our day at the ice rink, to the way Ellie laughed as she helped Amelia skate. The way my daughter's face lit up when Ellie praised her wobbly attempts at twirling. They looked so natural together, so right. Like the family I've always wanted.

And now I've ruined it all.

The whiskey bottle is half empty now, but the pain isn't dulling. If anything, it's intensifying. Every memory of Ellie feels like a knife twisting in my gut. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was worthy of love despite all my flaws.

I fumble for my phone again, dialing Ellie's number. It goes straight to voicemail this time. She's turned off her phone.

"Ellie," I slur into the phone, "I'm so sorry. I love you. I've always loved you. Please... please give me another chance. I'll make it right, I swear."

I end the call, knowing how pathetic I sound. But I don't care. I'd grovel on my knees if it meant Ellie would forgive me.

The room is spinning faster now, the effects of the whiskey finally taking hold. I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. How did I let things get so messed up?

I think back to the day Laura died, to the vow I made to myself in the depths of my grief. I promised I'd never love again, that I'd dedicate my life to Amelia and honor Laura's memory. It seemed noble at the time, a way to atone for the guilt I felt over not being able to save her.

But now I see how misguided that vow was. It wasn't noble - it was cowardly. I've been hiding behind my grief, using it as an excuse to avoid opening my heart again. And in doing so, I've hurt the one person who managed to break through my defenses.

Ellie. God, Ellie. The woman I've loved since college, the one I let go all those years ago because I was too afraid to stand up to my family's expectations. And now, history has repeated itself in the cruelest way possible.

I reach for the whiskey bottle again, but my coordination is off. It slips from my grasp, crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the empty apartment, a fitting metaphor for the way I've shattered Ellie's heart.

I don't bother cleaning up the mess. Instead, I stumble to my feet, swaying as I make my way to the living room. The city skyline stretches out before me, twinkling lights that remind me of the gala decorations Ellie worked so hard on.

My phone buzzes again - another text from Carson.

"Max, seriously, what's going on? Mom's worried sick. Call one of us, please."

I ignore it, sinking onto the couch. The room is spinning, and I close my eyes, trying to make it stop. But all I see is Ellie's face - the hurt in her eyes, the way she backed away from me after I betrayed her.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into the darkness. "I'm so sorry, Ellie."

The weight of my guilt is crushing. I've hurt the woman I love, disappointed my family, and let my daughter down. I'm a failure as a partner, a son, a brother, and a father.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the windows, I find myself at my breaking point. The alcohol has done nothing to numb the pain - if anything, it's intensified it. I'm lost, adrift in a sea of regret and self-loathing.

I stare out at the city, wondering if there's any way back from this. Can I ever make things right with Ellie? Will she even give me the chance? And if she doesn't, how can I possibly move forward?

The silence of the apartment presses in on me, suffocating in its intensity. I've pushed away everyone who cares about me, retreating into this self-imposed isolation. But now, as the reality of what I've done sinks in, I'm not sure I can bear it anymore.

I reach for my phone one last time, my fingers hovering over Ellie's name. But what could I possibly say to make this right? How can I explain that my love for her is real, that my fear and guilt have been holding me back all this time?

As the sun rises over the New York skyline, I'm left alone with the crushing weight of my mistakes. The man I see reflected in the window is a stranger to me - broken, lost, and utterly alone.

I close my eyes, the enormity of what I've lost washing over me. Ellie's gone. And I have no one to blame but myself.