I kick off my boots, take off my hat, jacket, and gloves, and let them drop to the floor.
Then I run up the stairs to my bed, fall onto it, bury my face in the pillow, and burst into tears.
Chapter Twelve
Stefan
I walk fast, without a clue as to where I’m heading.
The hill down to the village is now thick with snow. I slip and slide a little, but I stride out, unable to stop or slow down.
I don’t want to be with people, so I turn and head out across the field, toward the forest. There’s a path with signposts that leads visitors on a forest walk during the day; it’s empty now, and I walk toward the trees, relieved to be alone.
Unfortunately, I forgot to pick up my gloves. I stuff my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket. My fingers are numb with the cold, but I welcome the pain. I deserve it.
Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell was I thinking? I curl up inside like a poked spider at the memory of what I said to her. God Almighty. I used to be good at seducing women. An ex once told me I had a smooth tongue and I knew what to do with it, both in and out of bed. I was good at flattery and seduction. I knew how to make a woman feel good.
So why have I completely gone to pot?
I stop walking at the memory of how I insulted her, then took her face in my hands, kissed her, pushed her up against the wall, then shoved my tongue in her mouth. Oh my God. I take my hands out of my pockets and cover my face with my palms. Then I bend over, hands on my knees, as my stomach clenches. I’m going to vomit. Oh jeez.
I wait for a long time, until my hands feel as if they’re stuck to my jeans and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to straighten again. Gradually, the nausea dies down, and I push myself up.
Digging my hands back into the pockets of my jacket, I continue walking.
At the edge of the trees, a lamppost marks the beginning of the forest walk. There’s a sign in both Finnish and English explaining the danger of entering when it’s dark, which seems bizarre to me when it’s dark all the fucking time here in winter. But there’s no barrier or anything, and I walk forward, letting the trees close around me.
I looked up the statistics on Finnish animals before I left. There are eighty mammal species recorded. Some of them are endangered—the Arctic fox, the gray wolf, and the wolverine, which is like a small bear. Somewhat hysterically, I have a vision of the Marvel character with his sideburns and claws moving through the trees. But the point is that there are brown bears and wolves here, animals dangerous to humans. It’s rare to have an encounter so close to civilization, but I have to be careful.
I stop in the middle of the trees and wish one of them would leap on me and tear me apart.
I’m not normally an emotional man, but tears come into my eyes. Oh God, Jules. I’m such a fool. I have nothing but admiration for her for standing up to me.
I’m attracted to you… I always have been, and I always will be… I’m not blameless. I did want this. Her shocking words ring in my head like bells. Of course she’s blameless. No amount of flirting can condone what I did tonight.
But right now, I don’t like you very much.
That’s okay. At the moment, I don’t like myself very much either.
Ahead of me is a bench overlooking a stream. I can hear water running, but most of it is frozen over. Icicles hang from the nearby branches, and the reeds on the bank are stiff and crunchy. I sink onto the bench, ignoring the fact that I’ll probably get chilblains in my butt. Again, it’s only what I deserve.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone. I stare at the screen for a moment. Then I unlock it, bring up Maia’s number, and dial it.
It takes a moment to connect, then rings. She answers within about ten seconds.
“Hey,” I say. “It’s me. Did I wake you?”
“No, no.” She yawns. “It’s nearly nine here. Although I am still in bed, I have to admit.”
“Bad night again?”
She sighs. “Yeah. I’m so angry with myself. It’s been nearly a year, Stef. Shouldn’t it be getting better now?”
I cover my face with my free hand. My fingers are like icicles.
“Hey,” she says. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“Why, what’s happened?”
I hesitate, not wanting to burden her, and also because I’m so incredibly ashamed of myself.
“Come on,” she says softly. “Tell me.”
“I’ve done something stupid.”
“Okay… Are you safe? Are you hurt?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Are you drunk?” she asks.
“No.” I think of all the vodka and cocktails and the whisky I finished off with. “Well, yeah, possibly.”
“All right. Is anyone else involved?”
I sigh. “Yeah. Jules.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s in her suite.”
“Where are you?”
I give a short laugh. “In the middle of a fairy tale. In the forest.”
“Is it cold?”
“It’s fucking freezing.” My lips are numb, and the tears that formed on my lashes have frozen over.
“Are you heading back to your room?”
“In a minute. I’m such an idiot, Maia.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says gently. “Tell me what happened.”
“I kissed her.”
“Okay… that doesn’t sound too bad.”
“I was awful. I insulted her, Maia. I was incredibly rude to her. I don’t know why. I was trying to convince myself of the reasons why I couldn’t be with her, I think. But then I couldn’t keep away from her, so I kissed her, and she pushed me away.”
There’s a long, long silence. “What happened then?” she asks eventually.
“She said she was attracted to me, but that she didn’t like me very much.” My voice wavers. I stop and sink my fingers into my hair.
“And then?” Maia asks after a while.
“She said she was too upset for a conversation and went into her room.”
“All right. That’s good. She’s a good girl.”
“I know.”
“Stef, calm down. It’s not a complete disaster.”
I give a harsh laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Stefan, listen to me. Insulting her and then kissing her was an oafish thing to do, and you should be ashamed of yourself. But you know she likes you. She asked you to go back to her room.” I’d told her what happened at Leon’s wedding. “You kissed her because you like her, and you’re confused because she’s Hal’s sister, and you’re terrified you’re going to screw up your friendship. That’s perfectly understandable after what’s happened.”
“Don’t be kind to me,” I tell her. “I can’t bear it.”
“Oh shush, you big softie. You think you’re like James Bond, all tough and macho, but you’re a huge teddy bear inside. You’ve known Jules your whole life. And she knows you inside and out. She’s upset—of course she is. No girl likes to be insulted by the guy she’s crazy about. But after she’s cooled down, I’m sure you’ll be able to have a proper conversation about it. Apologize, tell her how you really feel, and I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know. This is exactly what I was afraid of. That I’d hurt someone I loved.”
“It was a mistake. As soon as you realized she wanted you to stop, you stopped. That’s what’s important.”
“Maia, I’m so sorry.”
She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “It’s not me you have to apologize to.”
“It is. I feel as if I’ve insulted you, too. After everything that’s happened to you…”
“Sweetie,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “The first thing you did was ring me to tell me. I’m incredibly touched by that. You have such a big heart. Such a lot of love to give. I love that you care about me, and you worry about me, and it’s natural that what ha
ppened is going to make you second guess a lot of your actions when it comes to women. But you can’t let it affect your ability to have relationships.”
I don’t reply, because it already has. How could it not?
“Apologize to her,” she says. “Profusely. She’ll understand.”
I think of the things I said to Jules. I implied I’m not keen on her dark hair and her height, or that she loves her netball, or that she’s spirited, when in fact I love all those things. I meant that she’s so different from all the other women I’ve dated, and I’m puzzled by the fact that I’m—let’s face it—besotted with her.
“I was angry with myself and the situation, but it all came out wrong,” I tell Maia. “If I was her, I would never forgive me for what I said.”
“Yeah, well. She knows you can be arrogant and superior.”
I brush at the snow on the bench. I can’t argue with that because she’s right.
“All you can do is be honest,” she continues. “Tell her what’s in your heart.”
“I can’t do that,” I reply. “I can’t tell her I want to be with her. I can’t risk it.”
“Oh, stop it,” she snaps, suddenly impatient. “I’m having enough trouble dealing with it all without knowing it’s ruined your life, too. Stop being such a drama queen.”
“I’m not,” I snap back. “There’s no way I can brush off the knowledge of what happened.”
“I know.” Her voice is a squeak. She’s crying.
“Ah, fuck.” I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m just so sad that it’s affected everything and everyone. If it was just me, it would be easier to cope with, somehow. I want to brush it off. I don’t want it to define my life and the lives of everyone around me. But we can’t pretend it wasn’t huge and that it didn’t have an enormous impact on everyone.”
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Look, I can tell you’ve had a lot to drink, and I’m sure that’s affecting how you’re feeling. Go back to your room, drink a large glass of water, and go to sleep. Then, tomorrow, go around to Jules. You’re going to have to tell her what happened.”
I finally force my fingers into a fist. “No. I won’t do that. I promised.”
“It’s okay. She won’t tell anyone. But she has to know. Then she’ll understand.”
The hand holding the phone is also frozen. In fact, I think the phone is stuck to it. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Explain everything,” she says. “And if then she still won’t forgive you, well, you’ll have to live with it.”
“Okay.”
“Get a good night’s sleep. And shower and shave before you go around there.”
I give a short laugh. “Yes, Mom.”
“All right. I’m going now. Sleep well.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“If you want. You know where I am.”
She hangs up.
I peel the phone from my fingers and slide both my hands into my pockets. My butt is frozen, too. But I sit there a while longer, listening to the stream and the sounds of the carol singers, way off in the distance. They’re singing “Little Donkey”. It makes me think about being young, of my mom singing it to me when she put me to bed. I swallow hard against the tears that prick my eyes again.
A movement in the undergrowth makes me stare and blink as a creature emerges. Holy shit. It’s a fox, but it’s not the same one I saw yesterday. This is an Arctic fox, an endangered species. It’s completely white and almost invisible against the snow-covered bushes, except for its tiny black nose and eyes.
I stare at it; it stares at me. Then it moves forward, toward me.
My heart races. Foxes are omnivores—they eat plants and small animals, and they’re rarely dangerous to humans, although I’m sure they’d attack if they felt threatened. I don’t move; even though I’m shivering now, I sit as still as I can and watch it come right up to me.
I’m not the dog whisperer—that’s Hal, who can charm almost any creature, human or animal. I’m just an ordinary vet, someone who likes animals because they’re uncomplicated, and who wants to help make them better. I don’t have any magical powers. Animals are not drawn to me.
And yet, the fox stops by my leg and sniffs my jeans. He walks in front of me and sniffs my boots, then my other leg.
I want to take out my phone and capture this—Hal will never believe me! But I know any movement will surely frighten him away. So I just sit and watch him move around me. Finally, he looks up at me, his black beady eyes catching the light of the lamp above my head and twinkling. He has tiny ears and he’s so cute—he’s like a toy. His nose is like that of the Pooh Bear I bought Summer’s boy, Simon, when he was born.
The fox studies me for a long moment. Then he turns his head, hearing something deeper in the forest. He listens, then he jumps across the river and disappears into the trees.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding in a whoosh. I feel as if I’ve experienced a Christmas miracle.
There’s no time to dwell on it though, because I’m dangerously cold, and I need to get indoors. I lever myself up, feeling my toes numb in my boots, my hands numb in my pockets. I go back to the entrance of the forest walk, then return up the path to the Escape, and go around to my suite. As I pass Jules’s door, I briefly contemplate knocking and talking to her now, but she might be in bed, and I need to give her time, and to have time myself to think about what I’m going to say.
Instead, I let myself inside my suite, turn up the heating, and wrap myself in the duvet and sit on the sofa. I’ll wait until I thaw a little, then I’ll have a hot shower before I go to bed.
I stare out into the darkness, thinking of the fox, and thinking of Jules.
Chapter Thirteen
Jules
When I awake, I check my phone and groan to see it’s only four-thirty. Holy heck, is it going to be like this until I get home? My head’s a little fuzzy, which is no real surprise when I think about all the cocktails I imbibed last night. That’s Noah’s fault. He plied us all with alcohol, and it’s so hard to say no when the drinks keep magically topping up like something out of the movie The Bishop’s Wife.
At least I had the sense last night to take a bottle of water to bed with me. I roll over and drink half of it, then flop back onto the pillows.
Outside, it’s dark and quiet. It’s still snowing heavily, too. I sit up, pull the duvet around my shoulders, and look out at the view. There’s been no sign of the Northern Lights yet, but then it’s hardly stopped snowing. I hope we’ll get to see them before we go home.
The forest opposite looks forbidding and black. The lamps cast a neat circle of golden light that doesn’t make inroads into the trees that stand shoulder to shoulder. Are there bears here? Wolves? Stefan and Hal would know.
I wonder what time Stefan came back. Even though I was upset, I fell asleep quickly, and didn’t see or hear him return. What kind of mood was he in? He’d looked distraught that he’d upset me, but maybe now he’s had time to think about it, he’s irritated, or even worse, angry.
My emotions are all mixed up. I’m furious with him because of what he said. I’m tired of him hurting my feelings. But I’m also upset because he obviously realized he’d gone too far, and he’s probably the most honorable guy I know, and he’s going to be horrified. I groan and cover my face with a pillow. I wish I could wave a wand and make everything all right, but I don’t think there’s enough Christmas magic in the world to sort this out.
On the table beside the bed, my phone pings.
I lift the pillow and glance at it. Someone from New Zealand, no doubt, one of my friends checking on whether I’m enjoying myself. I lift the phone listlessly, then stare. It’s a text from Stefan.
It says: You awake?
I lie back, my pulse picking up speed. He’s obviously awoken early, too, and knows it’s possible I might be up.
Do I want to talk to him n
ow? I feel foggy from alcohol and sleep, and I’m hardly looking my best. I’m still angry and resentful, and I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.
But equally, I hate this atmosphere between us, and I want to make it right.
Yes, I text back. Just one word, to test the water.
Can I come around? he asks. We need to talk.
I sit up. I’m still in my pjs, I reply.
It takes a minute or two for him to reply. When it comes, it’s a long text, so it obviously took him some time to type.
We can talk by text or phone if you’d rather I didn’t come around. But although there’s nothing I can say that can excuse what I said to you and what I did last night, I’d like to try to explain. And I’d rather do it face-to-face.
I rub my nose. At least he doesn’t sound angry. All right, I reply. Come around.
I get up hurriedly. I’m wearing pajamas and thick socks, and I bring the duvet downstairs too. My hair’s pretty wild, but I don’t have time to do anything to it. I just have time to turn on the gas fire and switch on the kettle, and then he knocks at the door.
I open it. He’s standing there in a pair of track pants, his boots unlaced, his jacket hastily pulled on, snow on his hair, shivering. Standing back to let him in, I watch him pass me. He takes off his boots and hangs his jacket over a chair, then stands by the fire, shoulders hunched.
“Coffee?” I ask him.
He nods. “Please.”
I feel his gaze on me as I go over to the small kitchen, but I don’t say anything. I take out two mugs, put some instant coffee in them, wait for the kettle to boil while I gather my wits, then add the hot water and splash in some milk. When it’s done, I take the mugs into the living room and put them on the table.
It’s warming up in the room, but it’s still not exactly cozy. “Sit there,” I tell him, pointing to the end of the sofa. He does as I say, and I sit at the opposite end, drape the duvet over us, and tuck it around our legs.
My Christmas Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 7) Page 9