Page 8 of Frozen Promises

GHOSTS OF CHRISTMAS PAST

Elias

I sit quietly in the far corner of the lodge’s only fine dining restaurant, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee.

It’s the price I pay to keep my seat without drawing attention.

Every time the hostess walks through the foyer, my heart skips a beat, hoping she’s escorting Catalina.

By now, she must have received the over-the-top Santa—a festive gesture she usually adores—I had delivered to her cabin.

She should’ve also seen the invitation for breakfast.

She probably suspects I’m here. The roses had been a dead giveaway. They are a symbol of our past and that I remember how things used to be before work took over my life and she took the back burner.

Finding Catalina hadn’t been difficult. I tracked her location shortly after getting off the phone with César with no plan in place other than to get my wife back.

I had a ten-hour drive through the start of a gnarly snow storm to think about what I wanted to do.

Bottom line, I wanted to give Catalina the ability to control the moment. I’m still allowing her space.

For now.

Finding her cabin had proven slightly more difficult than expected.

But a well-placed smile and a few charming words to the elderly woman managing the lodge did the trick.

She was more than happy to point me in the right direction.

Catalina had her own cabin—perfect. Sharing space with Santi and Noah would’ve complicated things, considering what I planned to do with her to show her just how sorry I am.

Another fifteen minutes go by and I start to worry.

There’s a chance she won’t want anything to do with me or the gifts I’ve arranged.

César said I need to accept that losing her, even after all of this, is a possibility.

Except, it’s not. Catalina is mine. She has been mine since I saw her during Freshman Boot Camp, smiling and laughing with all her friends.

Everything about her drew me in. That beautiful woman didn’t seem attainable, but she fell in love with me.

I swore I would never lose her love. And yet, I’m close to doing just that.

A feminine laugh steals my attention, and I glance up to see the hostess walking in.

My breath catches when I see Catalina. It hasn’t been long since she’s left, but it may as well have been months.

She’s wearing tight black leggings that show off her perfect ass.

My girl has never been shy in showing off her curves, and she shouldn’t be.

I fucking love her body, and I love how much she loves her body, despite not fitting into the conventional beauty standards.

Fuck them. My girl is the beauty standard.

Catalina isn’t alone, of course. Santi and Noah trail behind her, laughing at something the hostess must’ve said.

She leads them to a table on the opposite side of the restaurant, right by a massive window that frames the snow-covered mountains like a painting.

From where I’m sitting, I have a clear, unobstructed view of my wife, but thanks to the placement of nearby tables and the carefully arranged decor, she can’t see me.

This is as I planned it. I’m not ready to reveal myself, and Catalina still needs time.

The hostess doesn’t leave menus because I’ve already paid for a buffet breakfast. A waiter comes by and gives the three of them mimosas and pull-apart cinnamon bread to snack on before their food comes out. The one downside to being so far away from Catalina is that I can’t hear their conversation.

My wife is smiling, but it’s not her usual smile.

Sadness lingers in her eyes. Sadness that I placed.

If all things go according to plan this weekend, that sadness will never enter her eyes again.

I refuse to accept any other outcome. I didn’t get where I am today by being a passive man, content for life to pass him by.

The same waiter that is taking care of Catalina’s table comes up to me with a fresh pot of coffee. “Can I top you off, sir?” he asks, briefly glancing at what I’m staring at. I have the primal urge to gauge his eyes out, but that behavior is frowned upon. Lucky bastard.

I put down my coffee, nodding once. The waiter tops me off with more lukewarm coffee that is far too watered-down for the price they’re charging me for it.

“Do you still want me to give Mrs. Ayala the envelope?” he asks.

The second part of my plan.

“Only once breakfast is done. Make no mention of who sent it to her.” I’ve gone over this several times before, hoping it sticks. I’m not ready for her to know I’m here, even if she suspects it.

“Yes, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

Again, I shake my head, dismissing him, and I watch as he goes back over to Catalina’s table. My girl is on her phone, taking photos of the food and view. She then passes the phone to Santi to take a picture of her.

She’s breathtaking.

I need to tell her that more often.

I watch like the obsessed fucker I am as they talk in hushed whispers. Sometimes they are laughing so loud that a few people glance over at them. They can judge all they want, but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone at my wife’s table.

Their breakfast arrives in a flurry of clinking plates drifting with steam and mountains of food—scrambled and golden eggs, crispy, glistening strips of bacon, and brown to perfection hash browns.

Fluffy biscuits drenched in thick, peppered gravy sit beside a towering stack of waffles dusted with powdered sugar and crowned with a pat of melting butter.

My mouth waters, but I’m too worked up to eat right now. Coffee is my limit.

Catalina picks up her phone again, angling it to capture the spread. After a few quick shots, she smiles in satisfaction. But then, something shifts. With her fingers still on the screen, her smile falters.

She lifts her head.

Her gaze scans the room slowly, searching—purposeful and alert as if she’s expecting someone. As if she’s looking for me.

For one breathless moment, her eyes drift toward my side of the restaurant. My pulse quickens. Does she feel me watching her? Does she sense me here, hidden just beyond her line of sight?

I’m here, carino.

She looks away because she can’t see me. She turns her attention back to her plate, reaching for her fork. Just like that, I’m invisible again. A mere ghost.

Exactly how it has to be. For now. Even if I’m dying to have her in my arms.

Breakfast is a mostly quiet affair, at least for Catalina.

Noah and Santi do most of the talking, their voices weaving easily together in laughter.

They make an effort to include her, tossing questions her way or looping her into jokes, but the dynamic is unmistakable.

There’s always something off about a trio, especially when two of them are in love.

No matter how kind they are, the third person inevitably feels like an extra piece, orbiting a world they don’t quite belong to.

Catalina doesn’t say it, but the truth sits heavy between bites: she wasn’t part of the original plan. Her presence feels like an afterthought—a convenient way to get her out of town and out of reach from me. This trip isn’t about her.

It’s their romantic getaway. She’s just tagging along.

Their breakfast lasts for nearly an hour, each of them eventually leaning back with contented smiles and hopefully full stomachs.

It’s the perfect moment to proceed with the next step.

I know Catalina well enough to recognize how important this next gift will be.

If she accepts it, the rest of my plan will fall into place. And I believe she will.

The entire table has been booked for a luxurious spa day complete with four uninterrupted hours of indulgence, pampering, and relaxation. While they’re being tended to, I’ll prepare the last, and most important, part of my plan.

The server catches my eye, and I nod, before he heads over to the table with the invitation in hand. Catalina’s eyes widen as the server hands over the card that has their reservations and vouchers for the spa. Her eyes shoot up and she scans the room again, searching harder this time.

There’s no doubt in my mind she knows I’m here.

Watching. Waiting.

The three of them engage in an intense conversation, probably weighing whether or not they should accept the spa package.

It doesn’t take long for them to come to an agreement because soon Catalina is passing out the vouchers, and the three of them are leaving.

I watch a little longer and breathe a sigh of relief when I see Catalina disappear down the hallway toward the spa.

“She seemed excited about the spa, sir,” the server says, having approached while I was preoccupied watching my wife. “Is there anything else?”

“Nothing.” I dig through my pocket and toss down a hundred—far more than what I owe for the coffee.

“I’ll be right back with your change, sir.”

“Keep it.”

“Wow, really?” The man grins like I’ve bestowed the best gift upon him. “Thank you.”

If he says anything else, I don’t catch it. Maybe he thinks I’m an asshole—honestly, he wouldn’t be wrong—but I don’t have time to care about that right now. I’ve got a lot to get done before Catalina gets back to the cabin, and I won’t waste a second.

Tonight, I’m going to prove my wife comes first. I’ve been shit at keeping that in mind, but after this, my wife will never again doubt my love for her.

She’ll know, without question, that I love her more than anything else in this damn world.