Page 47 of The Lie That Stole Christmas

Each magazine, showcasing her hard work and dedication.Work that she’d been extremely proud of.Rooms she’d obsessed over, projects she poured everything she had into.One after another, preserved in time in glossy print with pretty photos.All the awards she won mentioned, the recognition she craved, as if she were trying to prove to everyone she’d made the right choice… Interior design wasn’t shameful; it was respectable and honest work.

He had every single one of them.She lifted her eyes from the stack, lips parting, but words wouldn’t come.

“I’ve also got the article from the New York Times about that hotel renovation in Soho,” he said casually.“The one where they called you one of the most influential designers under forty.As you can tell, my stack is quite high and that one wouldn’t fit in the drawer.”

Ashley blinked.“What?”

“You heard me.”He opened another drawer and pulled out a binder.He handed it to her, and she reluctantly took it from him.She opened it, and there, in clear plastic protectors, was the article along with smaller articles from when she was just starting out.Newspaper clippings that barely deserved a place in a paper.

“I thought…” her voice cracked.“I thought you didn’t care.That interior design was shameful.”

He reclined in his chair.“When you were twenty-three, I thought you were making a mistake.”

Ashley swallowed the burning of his disapproval.“I know.”

“I was wrong.”

Her head snapped up.“Excuse me?”

“I thought I knew what was best for you.I kept expecting you to fail and show back up asking for a job.And not because I thought you would fail, but because my own arrogance couldn’t except that you knew more than me.You knew what your calling was, and every few months a new article popped up, proving me wrong.”He tapped the stack of magazines.“Then another.And another.Then suddenly my granddaughter was no longer the little girl with bangs and pigtails.She was designing penthouses, hotels, restaurants, and estates worth more than Winterridge.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she laughed.

“For what it’s worth, you didn’t waste your potential.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she swiped it away.

“And I hope you have it in your heart to forgive an old geezer who was too stubborn to admit he was wrong until the evidence was stacked three feet high on his desk.”

“I just—” She blinked, trying to ward off the tears, but they spilled over in a steady stream.“All I ever wanted was to make you proud.”

“Proud seems pale in comparison to what I feel, but if you need to hear it… I am so unbelievably proud of you.”

Years of fear of disappointing him vanished in an instant.She swallowed the lump in her throat, and her lips curved into a genuine smile.“Thank you,” she managed.

“Don’t thank me.I had nothing to do with it.It was all you.”

A slight knock at the door made Ashley turn her head.Carter stood there looking sexier than ever in a navy blue cashmere sweater layered over a crisp white button-down.The collar peeked out while the sleeves of the shirt disappeared beneath the sweater's cuffs.Dark charcoal slacks hugged his long legs, and polished brown leather loafers completed the look.It was far more casual than the tailored suits he usually wore around the estate, yet somehow it only made him more attractive.The sweater skimmed broad shoulders and a powerful chest, hinting at the body beneath.He looked less like the estate manager of Winterridge and more like the man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Carter said as he stepped into the office away from the doorway.His eyes met hers, and though he didn’t say a single word, she knew he was thinking about last night.Heat blossomed on her cheeks, making her feel like the teenager she once was.

Grandpa cleared his throat, and she snapped her gaze away.

While Ashley felt like a girl getting caught looking through her presents, Carter was unruffled when he spoke.

“You wanted me to let you know when Lena would be arriving.She just texted.She should be here shortly.”

Who was Lena?Ashley tried not to let the green monster of jealousy emerge, but texting seemed so casual and unprofessional.A call would be morewe’re just business associates.Then again, she texted plenty of clients and contacts.

She inhaled, letting the deep breath calm her nerves.She was being ridiculous, and she was fully aware.

“Perfect!”Grandpa said.“Ashley was just telling me how she would love to help with the festival this year.”

“She did?”Carter exclaimed.

“I did.”Ashley’s lips curved upward as she met his gaze.“Grandpa was telling me how you’ve kept the festival going all these years.”

“A lot of families look forward to it,” he said.“It simply wouldn’t be Christmas without it.”