One Perfect Christmas and Other Stories
Page 27
‘Haven’t you got to go to your niece’s birthday party?’
His face falls and he stares down at the floor, lost. ‘I forgot about that.’ He glances up. ‘Come with me?’
My mouth drops open. ‘You’ve got to be kidding, right? Come hang out with your entire family for the day?’
‘Why not? Anyway, it’s not the whole day: it’s a couple of hours.’
‘Don’t they hate me?’
He looks aghast. ‘Of course they don’t!’
‘You never told them what happened between us?’
He recoils. ‘Yeah, I did, but nobody blames you.’
‘Your mum doesn’t think I’m a complete hussy?’ I can’t help feeling a small spark of hope.
He rolls his eyes. ‘My mum would give anything to meet you.’
‘She has,’ I say drily. ‘On your wedding day. I was, “Bronte, there to do the photos”.’
He looks pained. ‘Yeah,’ he says, looking away. ‘I’m sorry about that.’
I sigh. ‘You don’t need to keep apologising.’ My voice sounds leaden.
He stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets and hunches his shoulders.
‘You really want me to come?’ I find myself asking.
He glances up at me. ‘Yes.’
‘Okay,’ I say.
What the hell am I doing?
I end up buying new make-up as well as clothes, then insist we go back to Alex’s so I can get ready properly. My nerves intensify dramatically on the short drive to East Finchley, where Jo and Brian live. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to this. I stare out of the window with longing as we pass an Underground station.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Alex warns. ‘They’re expecting you.’
‘Eek!’ I reply with a gulp.
He smirks and reaches across to take my hand.
I’m so nervous the electric shock this time barely registers.
Alex ushers me up the garden path. ‘I promise you they’re lovely.’ He presses the doorbell while I fight the urge to bolt.
A squeal comes from somewhere deep in the house. ‘Jo,’ Alex murmurs. Then the door whooshes open to reveal her husband.
‘Bronte!’ Brian exclaims, greeting me like an old friend as he sweeps me up in a hug. A second later he’s replaced by Alex’s sister.
‘I’m so happy to meet you at last!’ she gushes, beaming from ear to ear. She’s a bit taller than me with shoulder-length dark hair swept up into a tousled bun.
Alex’s dad is a tad reserved, tall and slim like his son with a chiselled jawbone and a perfectly straight nose, but he offers me what feels like a genuine smile as he shakes my hand and retreats.
Alex’s mum, Clarissa, however, with her startling, all-too-familiar blue eyes, greets me very amiably.
‘It is so lovely to meet you,’ she says, clasping my hand in both of hers. ‘Alex has told me a lot about you.’
It takes all of five minutes for my nerves to dissipate. Alex wasn’t lying. I’m amongst friends, not enemies.
The day is a revelation. Some of Brian and Jo’s friends from their NCT group turn up with their little ones, and Alex and Jo’s aunt and uncle also join in the celebrations. Clarissa takes me under her wing when Alex is called away to repair a broken toy, and I feel oddly at ease in her company.
The warm feeling that has been expanding inside me is threatening to burst by the time we leave that afternoon. I feel better and more at peace than I have in years. I turn to look at Alex in the driver’s seat.
‘Thank you,’ he says, glancing at me.
‘No, thank you.’
He gives me a quizzical look.
‘I feel like a weight I didn’t even realise I’d been carrying has lifted from my shoulders.’
Have I done it? Have I finally laid the past to rest?
We drive past East Finchley tube station and it occurs to me that I should be getting out.
‘You want to come back to mine for a bit?’ Alex asks.
‘I should head to Polly’s,’ I tell him hesitantly. ‘I need to get my bags and say goodbye.’
‘I’ll drive you.’
‘Alex, you don’t have to do that.’
‘I want to. Honest. I’ll take you to your hotel.’
‘No! It’s too far, I’ll jump on a train.’
‘Let me,’ he says. ‘Please.’
‘Are you sure?’
He glances at me. ‘I’m sure.’
I feel strangely reluctant to leave him, too.
It takes over an hour to get to Polly’s, but we talk the whole way, and the atmosphere in the car is light and lively. I feel drunk with happiness after the day we’ve had.
‘I really like your mum,’ I say.
‘She liked you, too. I knew she would. She gave me so much grief about letting you slip through my fingers.’
I stare at him, bewildered. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I just wish you could’ve met Ed this trip. Properly, I mean, under better circumstances. He feels bad about the way he spoke to you.’
I pull a face. ‘It was understandable.’
‘Maybe when you’re back at Christmas,’ he says.
‘I don’t know if I’m coming back yet.’
‘You are.’ He’s jokily confident.
Polly is in the middle of bedtime madness, so she’s happy to keep our farewell brief, assuming that I have a taxi waiting outside on the street for me. I shake my head at Alex as he makes to get out of the car to help me with my suitcase.
‘You didn’t tell her I gave you a lift?’ he asks when I’m back beside him, cheerfully waving out of the window.
‘No. Sorry. She would’ve given me shit about it.’
‘Oh.’
I belatedly realise how this must make him feel. His friends and family are willing to have a fresh start, but mine aren’t?
‘It’s only because I’m not going to get a chance to bring her up to date before I leave,’ I tell him. ‘You understand, don’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ he says.
But I’m not entirely sure he does, and the journey to my hotel is more subdued.
Finally, he’s pulling into a space in the hotel car park. He switches off the ignition and we sit there in the darkness, in silence, as the seconds tick by.
I’m the first to speak. ‘Thank you. Today has been really nice. I didn’t know how much I needed it.’
He nods, and then abruptly presses the heels of his palms to his eyes.
‘Was this just about closure?’ he asks after a while, meeting my gaze directly, his eyes glinting in the low light. I slowly shake my head and watch as a strange series of emotions wash across his features.
‘Bronte,’ he murmurs, reaching for my hand.
I let him take it, allowing his long, cool fingers to slip between mine while my insides go berserk.
But, once more, thoughts of Lachie assault my mind, my golden sunshine boy, my warmth, my heart for over four years. I can’t let him go yet.
I extract my hand. ‘I’ll email you from Sydney,’ I say, reaching for the handle.
‘Fuck this!’ he mutters. His expression is anguished when he turns to face me. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to let you walk out of my life again.’
My mouth falls open.
‘I love you,’ he says. ‘Still. I know you’re not ready to start anything new. I know it’s too soon. I know you’re not over Lachie. But I can’t let you leave without you knowing how I feel, even if it makes me look like a complete dick. Again.’
My expression softens.
‘I love you,’ he repeats, his eyes shining. ‘I always have. I always will. I still think we’re meant to be together. Our timing has seriously sucked in the past, and I know it’s still not perfect, but I will wait until you’re ready. Okay?’
I nod, my throat swelling up.
‘I love you,’ he murmurs, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to the tips of my fingers.
I blink back tears.
But whether it’s because of Lachie or because of my guilt or just down to goddamn timing, I don’t tell him I love him back.
My return to Sydney is hideous. Walking into a flat devoid of Lachie’s things is unspeakably awful. It’s the middle of winter in Australia and the cold, damp days don’t help. I’m completely out of sorts when I return to work, but my horrible boss doesn’t give a toss about my jet lag or my post-break-up trauma. She just wants me to deal with the work that’s been piling up for me after she failed to hire full-time cover on the picture desk. And she wants it done yesterday.
Lachie comes over at the weekend to pick up a couple of stray items of clothes that I found in with my stuff.
It’s acutely painful to stand in front of him and not be able to touch him.
‘How was your trip?’ he asks, his arms folded across his chest and his bulging biceps filling out the sleeves of his lightweight jacket.
‘I caught up with Alex,’ I find myself telling him, straight off.
He nods, not seeming surprised. ‘I thought that you would.’
‘You’re not angry? Or upset?’
‘I’m a little sad,’ he admits. ‘But I always knew you hadn’t entirely closed the door on that one.’
I swallow, surprised that he’s being so philosophical. ‘How are things with you?’ I ask.
He shifts on his feet awkwardly. ‘I’m seeing Fliss,’ he reveals.
Despite everything, the pain takes my breath away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘It just sort of happened. I feel so bad after everything I said about her, but I don’t think I was being honest with myself. Or you. We just click. I still feel so guilty.’
I shake my head, not wanting to cry in front of him.
But I do later. A lot.
Alex emails me soon after I arrive home to ask how I am, but he doesn’t make another declaration of love.
One day, I come into work to find an email with a joke from him that he heard that morning on the radio and I find myself laughing out loud.
We begin emailing each other more often, usually just short, sweet, jokey messages that brighten each other’s days.
A few weeks later, when I’ve finished packing up the last of my boxes, I have an overwhelming urge to speak to him. So I dial his number.
I like that I can picture him sitting on his sofa at home in his living room with a view of his garden while he talks to me about his day. I feel a million times better after that simple conversation.
August rolls into September and one day I realise it’s exactly a year after Alex first got back in touch.
‘Not coming to Sydney next month, I don’t suppose?’ I find myself asking him by email.
‘Do you want me to?’ he replies, almost immediately. It’s late at night in England so he must be checking his emails on his phone.
‘Yes,’ I reply, my heart in my throat.
‘I’ll look into flights,’ he responds.
A couple of days later, he tells me he’s booked his ticket to come the following week. Just like that.
I ring Bridget in a panic.
‘Why are you flipping out?’ she asks bluntly. ‘You wanted him to come, right?’
‘Yes. I think. But Bridget, what if it all goes horribly wrong? I’m so scared he’ll break my heart again.’
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment and it’s disconcerting because I can’t see her face – we’re not FaceTiming.
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that,’ she says gently. ‘I think this is your time. Embrace it.’
The following week, I get up very early on Saturday morning and drive to the airport.
I’m a nervous wreck as I wait for Alex to come through the arrivals hall, but the look on his face when he spots me makes it worth it, a million times over.
‘You came!’ he gasps, engulfing me in a hug.
I didn’t tell him that I would.
‘Thought I’d better return the favour after you drove me around in England,’ I reply with a smile, my stomach continuing to somersault as he pulls back.
He gazes down at me, his hands still resting on my waist. His dark hair is squashed half flat on top, his eyes are tinged red from lack of sleep, and he has five o’clock shadow gracing his chiselled jaw.
But he’s still breathtaking.
He reaches up to brush his thumb across my cheek, leaving a tiny series of sparks fizzing electrically across my skin. I cover his hand with my own and realise his is shaking, ever so slightly.
‘My car’s this way,’ I say.
Neither of us can stop smiling on the journey to his hotel. He checks in, and then I wait on his comfy double bed while he has a shower and a shave. He doesn’t want to rest.
We’ve only got the weekend before I’m back at work – my office is around the corner from where he’s staying. It’s a flying visit – he’s leaving next Sunday night. He and Neal have a big client meeting on the Wednesday after he gets home. This was his one free week for the next month and he didn’t want to delay coming. He plans to work from his hotel room during the day and catch up with me at lunchtime and in the evenings. There is no way I’m staying late this week.
The bathroom door opens and Alex comes out, wearing nothing but a towel.
‘Forgot to take my clothes in,’ he apologises, going to his suitcase and dragging out jeans, a long-sleeve dark T-shirt and underwear.
My eyes track his return journey to the bathroom, watching the rivulets of water dripping from his wet hair and running down his leanly muscled back. He closes the door and I bite my lip, flustered.
It’s probably a good idea we get out of this hotel room sooner, rather than later.
It is the best day. We wander around Sydney’s botanical gardens and eat lunch at one of my favourite restaurants on the harbour, and, when it starts to rain, we head to a museum. At some point, he takes my hand and barely lets it go for the rest of the day.
But, by six o’clock, Alex is properly flagging, so we head back to his hotel to order room service. He sits on the bed to make the call while I stay on a chair by the window and, when he’s hung up, he flops back onto his pillows.
‘I’m knackered,’ he admits, looking over at me.
I return his smile.
‘Come here,’ he murmurs after several seconds have passed, edging backwards to make room for me.
I hesitate momentarily before kicking off my shoes, then I go over and settle onto the bed beside him. We lie with our heads resting on the pillows, facing each other.
Neither of us speaks, we just stare, his lips tilted up at the corners as he mirrors my expression.
I feel a pull from deep within me, and it’s almost as though strings are sprouting from inside me and are attaching themselves to him.
No, not strings.
Roots.
‘I love you,’ he whispers.
‘I love you, too,’ I reply.
He draws a sharp intake of breath and slowly reaches out to pull me closer. I’m happy to go to him, sighing contentedly as his fingers stroke over my hair.
As I rest my hand on his chest, I’m reminded of Lachie. He and I lay in this position almost every night for years.
Alex and I only had one night together.
Just one night.
He shouldn’t feel as familiar to me as he does.
Lachie drifts out of my mind again and there’s no anguish. I feel very much like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Alex’s stomach rises and falls slowly and his hand stills in my hair. I draw away to stare down at his sleeping face, his dark lashes creating miniature fan shapes across the tops of his cheeks.
I am so full of love for him.
He jerks awake suddenly, his poor, tired eyes hazy from sleep deprivation. ‘Did I nod off?’ he gasps, looking out of sorts.
I trace my fingertips along the side of his face as his eyes come back into sharp focus. The moment draws out, and then we very slowly inch towards eac
h other.
Our lips connect and shivers ripple up and down my spine, extending outwards to every nerve ending. He twists his body towards mine, his hands tangling in my hair, and my head spins as our kiss deepens. I feel dizzy and weak and, if I were standing, I don’t think my knees would hold me up.
He is an incredible kisser; he always was. His skilled tongue sweeps through my mouth, colliding with mine, and I feel delirious as I kiss him back.
Lachie flashes through my mind again, but it’s without guilt or regret. I realise then and there that I’m truly over him.
Bridget is right. This is our time. Alex’s and mine.
It took us long enough to get here.
I slip my hands up inside his T-shirt. He’s broader than he was years ago, but his soft skin still encases hard muscles.
He draws away when my intentions become clear, pulling his shirt over his head. His pupils are dark and dilated as he stares down at me. I’m mesmerised by the sight of his ribs rising and falling with each heavy breath. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘But I’m not on the pill right now.’
He gets up from the bed and goes over to his suitcase. I brought a couple of condoms with me too, just in case, but I’m glad he’s also prepared.
My stomach is awash with butterflies as he hovers above me, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I pull him into me and we begin to move as one, staring into each other’s eyes the entire time. It is intense. It is incredible. It feels like coming home.
We’re lying, entangled, afterwards, when there’s a knock on the door. We look at each other with alarm.
‘Room service,’ a voice calls.
We both laugh. We’d forgotten we’d even ordered.
‘Impeccable timing,’ Alex mutters with a grin as he drags on his jeans and goes to answer the door.
We don’t make it as far as dessert before we’re going for round two.
It is devastating saying goodbye to Alex after what turns out to be one of the best weeks of our lives. We had a lot of heart-to-hearts while he was here, talking about the future and what we want from it. Ultimately, we decided that we want each other, and somehow we know we need to make it work.
He’s only just set up his business, he loves where he lives and is very close to his family, but I know he would give it all up and move to Australia if I asked him to.