A Wright Christmas

“But you don’t want this. You don’t want to go back to New York already. We were supposed to have Christmas together. We were supposed to—”

“I know,” she forced out. “I know what we were supposed to have, Isaac. I know.”

“Then why?”

“This is my job,” she said softly, gently. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I know we said we were going to find a way…but what way is there? How could this work?”

“I don’t know,” I said, straightening. “I thought we were going to figure that out together.”

“We were. But the more I think about it, the more impossible it feels. I’m in the studio eight-plus hours a day. I have shows constantly. I’m teaching and training and performing. Not to mention, volunteer work and banquets.” Helplessly, she held her hands out before her. “My life is in New York. It’s not here.”

“I’m not going to stand here and tell you not to follow your dream or to give up your career for me,” I said carefully. “I didn’t do that when we were seventeen, and I’m not going to do it now. But I want you to think about this before running off and abandoning what we have.” I reached out and took her hands. “I love you, Peyton.”

Tears came to her eyes, and she drew in a ragged breath. “Isaac…”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. Here. In New York. Wherever. You are the person that I want. If you don’t feel the same, then fine. Go back to New York and walk away from this.” I drew her in closer, swiping a tear from her cheek. “But if you do feel the same way, Peyton, please just give me a chance.”

She closed her eyes and let the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be mine. Be here with me. Be there with me. Just be mine.” I pressed a kiss to her mouth. “I know that you love me.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“I can’t make it easier on you. I don’t want you to go. I can’t imagine you walking out of my life again.”

“I know,” she whispered. She opened her big brown eyes, and I saw the resignation in them. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to end this. But ballet is my one true love. It’s the only thing that has always been there for me. And it’s calling me back home. So, I’m going back to New York…and I don’t think we can do this long distance. You have a daughter to think of.”

“I do. I love Aly. I want what’s best for her. And what’s best for her is me falling madly in love with you.”

“How would it even work?” she asked, swiping at her face. “You come up on weekends with your daughter? I almost never have time off. A few days here, a few days there. That’s not a life. That’s not fair to you or Aly.”

“So, it’s better to walk away from love?”

“No,” she gasped. “It’s better to face reality. The last month has been a dream, Isaac. One I never wanted to wake up from. But we’re not kids anymore, and we have to face the fact that we can’t be together when we’re two thousand miles apart!”

I stood stock-still as her words hit me. She was telling the truth. She really believed this. I’d known that she was going to go back to New York, but I’d thought she cared enough to want to at least try.

“You’re really going,” I muttered.

She nodded her head. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“And we’re just over? You can walk away this easily?”

“It’s not easy,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t.”

“But it’s real life, Isaac. In the fairy tale, I give up my big, fancy job, and I move back to my small town and marry my high school sweetheart,” she gushed. “In real life, I go home. And we both learn to live with the heartbreak.”

Everything went cold. Inside and out. Her words felt like she’d stabbed me in the heart.

She stepped forward, pressing one more forlorn kiss to my lips. “I do love you, Isaac. And I’m sorry that I came back…that I’m hurting you all over again.”

Then before I could reach for her and beg her to stay, she darted back down the front walk and hopped into Piper’s Jeep. They pulled away while I stood there at the front door, staring at them in shock.

It wasn’t until Aly charged back down the hallway and wrapped herself around me that I broke away. I picked her up and held her as tightly to me as I could.

“Daddy, I can’t…breathe,” she said while laughing.

“Everything all right?” my mom asked with worry creasing her forehead.