One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 34

I waved my hand in the air like a maniac. I was standing nearly in the street in an attempt to get a cab to stop. I had to get out of there. Had to get away from him.

My mind was whirling, my thoughts spinning like a cyclone, making it impossible for any of those thoughts to be coherent.

Finally, a cab pulled to a stop. I hopped in like I was jumping into a getaway car after a jewelry heist. I gave him my address and leaned back against the seat. I could barely see, my vision clouded with tears. I forced myself to blink, again and again, until my vision cleared. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was lodged in my throat, choking me. How had I been so blind?

I knew.

Of course, I knew. The realization was settling over me. It pressed on me, making me feel like I would suffocate under the weight of the truth.

He was the man in Paris.

Fox Samuelson, the arrogant genius, the impossible tech mogul I had spent the last few weeks pretending to be engaged to—he was my fantasy prince. The one I’d met on a balcony in the most romantic city in the world. I had built him up in my head as a figment of my imagination, a fleeting moment I would never have again. I longed for him, but convinced myself he didn’t truly exist.

And now I realized he had been right in front of me this whole time. In the back of my mind, there had been a voice poking and prodding. My subconscious was practically screaming at me to open my eyes. But I kept rejecting the obvious.

Why had I run away?

I knew why. Andrew. His name sat heavy on my chest, a cold, unwelcome weight. The ghost of my ex-husband had lingered far longer than I cared to admit. I let his betrayal twist my perception of love, warp it into something dangerous, something I couldn’t trust. I didn’t think I could ever trust another man. I was constantly looking for the flaws. I assumed Fox had them. I convinced myself he was just hiding them really well.

But Andrew wasn’t here. Fox was. Fox had always been here.

I glanced down at the stupid ring on my finger. Is this who I had become? Someone who lies, who pretends, who hides behind facades because it’s easier than facing the truth? That’s not me. I don’t want to be that person.

Andrew would keep winning if I let his shitty, nasty choices change me from the person I was into the person he created. Looking back, I knew I was not happy with who I’d become. I was a shell of the person I was before Andrew blew up my life. He made me rethink everything I knew and trusted. I had no friends now because I didn’t think I could ever trust anyone ever again.

Christa was the only exception. She was happily married, and I trusted her. But I was jaded now and saw the bad in everyone long before I saw the good. If I couldn’t see the bad, I just assumed it was there and treated the person accordingly.

I could feel my heart beating faster, fueled by an adrenaline rush that left me feeling lightheaded. I couldn’t leave things like this. I could not put all my baggage on Fox. He didn’t fuck me over. He wasn’t the one that broke my heart.

“Turn around!” I shouted at the driver.

“What?”

“I have to go back!” I was panicked now. “Please, turn around.”

He cursed under his breath but took a right. “Make up your mind, lady.”

“I just did.”

I had to get back to him. I had to tell him I knew, that I understood now. I’d been running for so long I hadn’t realized I was running away from something good. I was running away from us.

Fate had put him in my path twice. It was the equivalent of beating me over the head to make me see. I wasn’t going to miss out on what I knew was right.

The cab pulled to a stop. I quickly paid the fare and jumped out so quickly I nearly twisted my ankle on the curb. I didn’t wait for the elevator, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. There was this driving force inside me making me feel like I had wings. I had to get to him. I ignored the burning in my legs. When I reached his floor, I was on the verge of puking from exertion. I walked down the hall, hunched over and sucking in air.

I made it to his door and tried to walk in, but it was locked. I pounded on the door, my fist bruising against the wood. “Fox!” I called out, my voice cracking. “Fox, please!”

No answer. The hallway was silent except for the sound of my own ragged breathing. I slammed my fist against the door one more time, but there was no movement on the other side. I rested my forehead against the cold surface, my eyes squeezing shut as the first tear spilled over.

“He’s not home,” a voice said from behind me.

I turned, wiping at my tears with the back of my hand. An older man stood there, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. He must have been one of Fox’s neighbors.

“What?” I asked.

“I passed him in the hall. He left.”

“Do you know where he went?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was hoping he would tell me Fox was taking the trash out or something like that.

The man scratched his head, looking at me with confusion. “Just saw him leave about five minutes ago. Seemed like he was in a hurry.”

My heart sank. I missed him. He’d probably gone out for a walk, needing to clear his head after everything I’d dumped on him. “Thank you,” I managed to say, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

“Are you okay?” the neighbor asked, clearly concerned.

“Yeah, I just…” I let out a shaky breath, then rummaged through my purse. My fingers brushed against a ballpoint pen, and I yanked it out along with a crumpled receipt. “Actually, do you have a piece of paper and tape or a post-it?” I asked, desperate.

The man raised an eyebrow but nodded, ducking back into his apartment. He returned with a small pad of sticky notes. I scribbled down my phone number as quickly as I could and stuck it to Fox’s door. “Thank you.”

The man nodded and went back into his apartment.

I stared at my phone number on the hot-pink paper. I was going to give it to him as a Christmas present, but I wanted him to have it now. I just hoped he was still interested in having it. I might have ruined any chance I had with him.

I started back down the hallway, my steps slower, heavier. I took off my heels, feeling the blisters forming after the breakneck run up the stairs. I stepped into the elevator and collapsed against the wall. I had run from him tonight, just like I ran from him in Paris.

A year of therapy after my divorce had done nothing to fix the part of me that bolted at the first sign of something real. It was like I was stuck in a loop, destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. I was rejecting happiness because I was afraid of losing it.

By the time I got back to the sidewalk, my body felt numb. The adrenaline was fading, leaving me cold and exhausted. Once again, I held up my hand in an attempt to get a cab. Luckily, I got a different cab driver. He didn’t need to see me leaving with my tail between my legs.

I got into the backseat and closed my eyes. I was home before I knew it.

My house was dark when I walked inside, the kind of darkness that felt suffocating, empty. I flicked on a lamp and immediately looked at the bookshelf in the corner. That should have been a clue he had genuine feelings. It wasn’t just a bookshelf. It meant something. It showed he was thinking about me.

I changed into my pajamas mechanically, pulling on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. It was Christmas Eve, and I was alone. Again. If I kept repeating my mistakes and keeping the walls up, I was going to be alone every Christmas Eve from now until my last one.

I collapsed onto the couch, pulling a blanket around my shoulders. My mind was racing, replaying everything that had happened tonight, the look on Fox’s face when I pulled away, the way his voice had cracked when he told me he wanted this to be more. He poured his heart out to me, and I had run. How could I explain that I’d been scared? That I hadn’t put the pieces together until it was too late?

I buried my face in my hands, letting out a strangled sob. I ruined everything. He would never forgive me for this. I should’ve stayed. I should have told him right then and there that I knew about Paris. That I’d always known, somewhere deep inside. I should have told him that I spent the last year waiting for him.

A noise made me lift my head. It sounded like something slipping through the mail slot in my front door. I sat up, confused, knowing there was no way the mailman was delivering on Christmas Eve.

Santa?

I stood slowly, making my way to the entryway, wondering if I should grab some milk and cookies first. There, on the floor, was a familiar black velvet envelope.

My breath hitched. I knelt and picked it up with trembling fingers. It couldn’t be.