Forbidden Christmas

CHAPTER 10: Cold Distance

Maya's Pov

I woke up with swollen eyes and a headache that felt like someone was hammering nails into my skull. Crying yourself to sleep will do that.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. 6:47 AM. Way too early, but I knew I wouldn't fall back asleep. Not after last night.

I opened my messages and stared at Derek's text for probably the hundredth time.

"Can't meet tonight. This was a mistake. I'm sorry."

A mistake. That's what I was. What we were. A mistake he was sorry for.

I threw my phone across the bed and pressed my palms against my eyes. This was stupid. I was being stupid. We'd barely done anything. Some loaded glances. A few text messages. Holding hands for like five minutes.

But it had felt like everything.

And now Derek was pulling away. Going cold. Probably realizing that I was just some girl his daughter dragged home for Christmas. Not worth the complication. Not worth the risk.

Just like Jake. Just like every other guy who got close enough to see the real me and decided it wasn't worth the effort.

A knock on my door made me jump.

"Maya? You awake?" Sophie's voice, way too cheerful for this hour.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal. "Yeah. Come in."

Sophie opened the door holding two mugs of coffee. She was already dressed in workout clothes, hair in a high ponytail. "You left so fast last night. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. Just got really tired all of a sudden." The lie tasted bitter.

"You sure? Because you looked like you were about to cry. And then you didn't answer any of my texts." She sat on the edge of my bed, handing me a mug. "Did something happen?"

"No. I'm fine. Promise."

Sophie studied me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "Is this about a guy? Did your ex text you or something?"

"Something like that."

"Want me to s***h his tires? Because I will. I have a whole revenge plan ready to go."

I laughed despite myself. "No tire slashing necessary. It's fine. Really."

"Okay. But if you change your mind, I'm here. With metaphorical and possibly literal knives." She took a sip of her coffee. "So, today's plan. Breakfast, then we're decorating gingerbread houses. Dad's making them from scratch because he's extra like that. Then tonight Jason wants to take us all to that fancy restaurant in town. Wear something nice."

My stomach dropped. A whole day of activities with Derek. Pretending everything was fine. Acting like his text hadn't gutted me.

"Actually, I might skip the gingerbread thing. I have some work emails I need to catch up on."

"Maya. No. You're not spending your vacation doing work. That's literally against the rules." Sophie grabbed my hand. "Come on. It'll be fun. And Dad makes the best gingerbread. He has this secret spice mixture that's amazing."

Of course he did. Because Derek had to be perfect at everything, making it that much harder to get over whatever this was.

"Fine. But I'm not responsible if my gingerbread house looks like it got hit by a tornado."

"That's the spirit!"

After Sophie left, I took the longest shower of my life. Let the hot water wash away the dried tears, the headache, the feeling of being stupid and naive and not enough.

By the time I got downstairs, I'd built up a decent wall. Professional smile. Casual demeanor. Just Sophie's friend enjoying a vacation. Nothing more.

Derek was in the kitchen pulling gingerbread pieces out of the oven. He looked up when I walked in and something flickered across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by polite distance.

"Morning, Maya. Coffee's fresh."

"Thanks."

I poured myself a cup, hyper-aware of him behind me. The kitchen suddenly felt too small. The air too thick.

"Sleep well?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Fine. You?"

"Fine."

We were strangers. Two people who barely knew each other making small talk. Like the past few days hadn't happened. Like he hadn't told me I made him feel alive.

Sophie bounced in with Melissa trailing behind her. "Is the gingerbread ready? I want the biggest house."

"They're all the same size," Derek said, but he was smiling at Sophie in a way he definitely wasn't smiling at me.

Jason appeared, looking half asleep. "Do we really have to do arts and crafts? Can't we just buy gingerbread houses?"

"Absolutely not. This is tradition." Sophie started setting up the dining table with icing and candy. "Dad's been making gingerbread houses with me since I was five. It's our thing."

Our thing. I was crashing their thing. An outsider playing pretend in someone else's family.

We all gathered around the table. Derek sat at one end. I deliberately chose the opposite end, as far from him as possible. If he noticed, he didn't show it.

Sophie explained the rules. Most creative house wins. Dad judges. No sabotaging other people's houses.

"That last rule is specifically because of the Great Gingerbread War of 2015," Derek said. "Which we don't talk about."

"You started it," Sophie shot back.

"I did not. You put gumdrops on my roof when I wasn't looking."

"Strategic decorating. Not my fault you weren't paying attention."

They were so easy together. So comfortable. This whole father-daughter routine they'd perfected over the years. And I was just watching from the outside, not part of it. Never part of it.

I focused on my gingerbread house, trying to make the icing stick the walls together. It immediately collapsed.

"You have to hold it for like thirty seconds," Melissa said without looking up from her own house, which was somehow already perfect. "Let the icing set."

I tried again. The wall fell over again.

"Here." Derek was suddenly beside me, his hands reaching for my gingerbread pieces. "You need more icing. And hold it like this."

His hands covered mine, steadying the walls. I froze. This close, I could smell his cologne. See the small scar on his jaw I'd never noticed before.

"Got it?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah."

He let go and stepped back quickly, moving back to his own house like touching me had burned him.

The rest of the morning was torture. Every time Derek spoke, I felt it like a physical ache. Every time he laughed at something Sophie said, I wanted to leave the room. And worst of all, every time he carefully didn't look at me, I felt the rejection all over again.

By lunch, my gingerbread house looked drunk. One wall was crooked. The roof was sliding off. My decorating consisted of randomly throwing candy at it and hoping something stuck.

"That's...creative," Sophie said diplomatically.

"It's a disaster."

"It has character!"

Derek was looking at my house with something that might have been amusement. "It's definitely unique."

"You can say it's bad. I know it's bad."

"It's not bad. It's abstract." His eyes met mine for just a second. "Sometimes the imperfect things are the most interesting."

I looked away first, my throat suddenly tight.

Derek announced Sophie's house as the winner, which was obvious because hers looked like it belonged in a magazine. She did a victory dance that made everyone laugh.

Except me. I was too busy trying not to cry again.

After lunch, everyone scattered to get ready for dinner. I went to my room and stared at my closet, trying to figure out what "something nice" meant. Finally settled on a black dress that was simple but made me feel less like a disaster.

I did my makeup carefully, covering the evidence of last night's crying. Put my hair up. Stared at my reflection and tried to convince myself I was fine.

My phone buzzed.

Sophie: "You look hot right? Because this restaurant is fancy and I don't want you to be underdressed."

Maya: "I'm wearing a dress. Is that fancy enough?"

Sophie: "Perfect. Meet downstairs in 10?"

I took a deep breath. I could do this. Sit through one dinner. Smile and laugh and pretend my heart wasn't breaking over something that never really started.

When I got downstairs, everyone was already waiting. Jason in a button-down that probably cost more than my rent. Melissa in a designer dress. Sophie in a gorgeous red number that made her look sophisticated.

And Derek in a suit.

I'd never seen him in a suit. He usually wore jeans and flannel, sometimes a henley. But tonight he was in a charcoal gray suit that fit perfectly, white shirt open at the collar, no tie.

He looked devastating.

His eyes swept over me when I came down the stairs. Stopped. Something flickered across his face before he looked away.

"Ready?" Sophie asked, grabbing her coat.

We piled into Derek's SUV. I deliberately took the back seat next to Melissa, as far from Derek as possible. Sophie rode shotgun, controlling the music and singing along off-key.

The restaurant was the kind of place with cloth napkins and three different forks. The hostess led us to a round table, which meant there was no avoiding sitting near Derek. I ended up between Jason and Melissa, with Derek directly across from me.

Perfect. Just perfect.

We ordered. Sophie got wine and made a whole thing about being old enough to drink with her dad. Jason and Melissa debated appetizers. And I sat there trying not to look at Derek while being completely unable to look anywhere else.

"So Maya," Melissa said, her tone overly sweet. "Sophie says you're single now. Getting back out there yet?"

I wanted to die. "Not really. Taking a break from dating."

"Smart. Men are trash anyway." She took a sip of her wine. "Present company excluded. Mostly."

"Gee, thanks," Jason said.

The food came. I pushed it around my plate, barely eating. My stomach was in knots. Across the table, Derek was doing the same thing, his steak mostly untouched.

Sophie told a story about work. Jason complained about his boss. Melissa showed off her engagement ring for the thousandth time. Normal conversation. Normal dinner.

Except nothing felt normal.

"Maya, you're quiet tonight," Sophie observed. "Still not feeling well?"

"Just tired. Long day."

"You should go to bed early. We're skiing again tomorrow and you need your energy."

I glanced at Derek involuntarily. He was staring at his plate, jaw tight.

"Actually, I might sit out skiing tomorrow. Let you guys do the hard slopes."

"What? No! Dad was just saying this morning how much you improved. Right, Dad?"

Derek looked up. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second. "You did great yesterday. But if you need a break, that's understandable."

His voice was so carefully neutral it hurt.

"I'll think about it," I said, just to end the conversation.

Dessert came. Sophie insisted we all share the chocolate lava cake. I took one bite and felt sick.

"Excuse me. I need to use the restroom."

I escaped to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall, pressing my hands against my eyes. I would not cry. Not here. Not in a fancy restaurant bathroom