"I know. But listen, I needed you to talk to me, and my dad called and ordered me to the ranch. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't want to go, but you know how my dad is. So I went, and he told me that you called him." I glance at her.

Her face turns red. She claims, "I just did what was right. Is he naming you CEO?"

Everything about being CEO feels off. I should be elated. I should be jumping up and down and thanking my lucky stars. I'm finally getting what I've always wanted, but now it just doesn't seem right without her. I reply, "He is, but it doesn't feel that good."

She furrows her eyebrows. "Why not? It's the only thing you've ever wanted."

I admit, "Maybe in the past. But it doesn't feel right without you by my side."

She inhales sharply and turns, staring out the window.

"Georgia—"

"You were fine before me, Sebastian. You'll be fine again," she claims.

"That's not true," I declare.

We travel the rest of the way in silence. When we get on the street her bakery is on, I park a block away and turn off the truck.

"What are we doing here?" she questions.

I pull a blindfold out of the glove compartment, answering, "I need you to put this on."

She gives me a funny look, warning, "Sebastian, if this is one of your tricks—"

"I told you, I'm not trying to trick you. But I need you to trust me right now."

She snaps, "That's a little easier to say and harder to do."

It stabs me in the heart a bit, but I can't blame her. "I understand. I promise you, I'm not tricking you, but I need you to put this on." I hold it out to her again.

She sighs, then takes the blindfold and slips it over her eyes.

"Okay, stay there. I'm coming around to get you." I jump out of the truck, help her out, and guide her down the street.

It feels so good to have her in my arms again, right next to me.

This is how it should be.

We get in front of the bakery, and I unlock the door, turn on the lights, and move her inside.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"Sure," she answers.

My stomach fills with flutters as I untie her blindfold and study her.

She blinks a few times, and all the color drains from her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She finally swallows hard and stares at me.

"Merry Christmas," I offer.

She questions, "How...?" She continues to gape.

I've never felt so nervous in my life. I admit, "When we were in Iceland, and you showed me your plans, I called the spa to book you for the manicure and pedicure. Once you left, I arranged for it all."