so much for this, Peyton.”
“Of course. It’s my job.”
“There’s a ten o’clock rehearsal to make sure that we have you all set to perform. Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No. That’s all, Annabelle. Thanks.”
“You’re the best, Peyton. See you tomorrow.”
I hung up and then rested my head on the steering wheel. I was leaving. I was flying back to New York tonight, a full five days early. No Christmas with my family. No Christmas with Isaac and Aly.
I wanted to cry, but somehow, I couldn’t even manage that. A part of me had known this was coming all along. Now, I just had to find a way to tell Isaac.
23
Isaac
“Aly, please don’t make me say it one more time. If you want to go to Daddy’s soccer game, you have to put your shoes on.”
“Fine,” she groaned and stomped back to her room.
My mom stood by with an amused look on her face. “You hated shoes, too.”
“I’m sure this is cosmic torture for how I was as a kid.”
She laughed and patted my cheek. “You’re doing just fine.”
“Thanks,” I said with a sigh. “You sure you still want to go to the game? Sutton and Jennifer said they’d watch her. Plus, Peyton will be there.”
“Bah,” she said, waving me off. “I’ll be there for you. As if I ever get tired of watching you do what you love.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, kissing her cheek.
The doorbell rang in that moment, and I raised my eyebrows.
“Wonder who that is.”
“I’ll go check on Aly and her shoes,” my mom said, walking toward Aly’s room as I headed for the door.
I pulled it open and was surprised to find Peyton standing in the doorway. A smile split my face, and I wrapped my arms around her. “This is a pleasant surprise. I thought we were meeting at the soccer complex.”
She frowned, backed out of the embrace, and looked down at her feet. “Isaac…”
She was in fitted black leggings, a tank top, and a cardigan. Her heavy peacoat thrown over top. Her hair was still in her tight ballet bun. She usually let it down right when she got home. But then I looked past her and saw…Piper’s blue Jeep. With Piper idling in the driver’s seat.
“What’s going on?”
“Isaac, I…I don’t think this is going to work.”
My fingers clenched the door. “What do you mean? What isn’t going to work?”
She gestured between us, swallowing hard as she met my eyes. There was torment in her irises. She didn’t want this.
“Why?” I gasped out. “Why are you saying this?”
“I got a call from New York. They need me to come home tonight. Their Sugar Plum Fairy had emergency appendix surgery, and no one else can come in to perform.”
“So…you’re going to go back to New York? There’s literally no one else?”
“No one with enough experience. Not for what the tickets cost,” she said softly.
“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