The Expat Diaries: Twelve Days to Christmas (Single in the City Book 3)

by Michele Gorman

  ‘Hannah. I have to say that this is shocking. Or it would be, if I didn’t know most of those things already… You can add terrible actor to your list of perceived defects.’ He took my hands in his. ‘I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re perfect. I fell in love with you, and because of that, I think you’re perfect.’

  But I wasn’t perfect. And I was going to have to tell him everything. He deserved to know it all. He deserved to know that while I was going on, torturing him about her, I was being a hypocrite. As long as I was playing the blame game, I had to face that I’d done the exact same thing. And he needed to know that. ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘You don’t really hate costume dramas?’

  ‘No, that’s true. I’ve never been able to stand them.’

  ‘Well, that’s something.’ He was smiling.

  Oh how I wanted to see that smile stay on his face. We could just stop there, kiss and make up, get on the plane together and live happily ever after. What was one little omission after all of that confession? Surely telling him would only hurt him. And if by doing it, I was just getting rid my own guilt at his expense, then wasn’t that selfish of me?

  I knew the answer. I took a deep breath. ‘Back in September, before we got back together, something happened with Brent.’

  His smile turned to surprise. Then anger. ‘What happened?’

  ‘We went out for drinks and dinner, like we usually do, and we… we ended up kissing. I spent the night with him. It was just that one time, but I didn’t tell you, and I should have. I did the exact same thing you did. Only I didn’t have the guts to tell you I’d done it.’

  ‘All the time you made me feel terrible for that date, you were hiding the fact that you slept with Brent?’

  ‘We didn’t have sex. But that doesn’t matter. Yes, I did that to you.’

  I waited for him to pass judgment. His emotions fought for space on his face. ‘I suspected there was something between you. I told you it was obvious he likes you.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. You were right. He likes me.’

  ‘And what do you feel for him?’

  ‘I... I’m not completely sure. That’s the honest truth, Sam. I don’t want to tell you that I never liked him, because I did. I wouldn’t have spent the night with him if I didn’t. And I still do like him very much as a friend. But I’ve never loved him. I’ve never been in love with him. He makes me feel safe, always at ease. I think that’s his attraction. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you deserve to know everything. I was always able to be myself with him, and I felt that he accepted me for myself.’

  ‘That hurts.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You didn’t feel that I accepted you for yourself?’

  ‘I never gave you the chance, did I? I spent all my time trying to be the girlfriend I thought you wanted. I was never just me. But that was my issue, not anything you did. I don’t expect you to forgive me, about Brent, about any of it. I just want you to understand.’

  ‘I do understand,’ he said after what seemed like hours. ‘Hannah. This wasn’t how I imagined today. But then, I’m always surprised by you. So I shouldn’t be surprised to be doing this again.’ He bent to one knee. ‘There’s nothing you can do or say that will make me turn away from you. I’m so sorry you haven’t believed me when I’ve said that. But I hope you do now. I love you. Will you marry me?’

  ‘Even after all that?’ I whispered.

  ‘I’m not going to tell you it doesn’t bother me, about Brent. It does. But I meant everything I said. There’s nothing you can do to scare me off. Any problems we have, we’ll solve together. It’s not too late to catch that flight. Let’s go home, Hannah.’

  ‘… I can’t find my passport.’

  ‘We’ll find it together. Is that a yes?’

  As I stared at him, it finally sunk in. I had never needed to pretend. Sam would have loved me anyway. As I stood there, facing the man I loved, I realized that I loved me just as much. And I was sorry that I’d betrayed myself. I owed myself more than that. I took a deep breath and made a silent promise again to always stay true to myself. ‘Yes!’ I jumped into Sam’s arms, passengers streaming past towards their flights staring curiously at the kissing couple in Departures. We didn’t cause much of a stir, though. Airports are often places for happy endings. Or in our case, happy beginnings.

  Epilogue

  ‘Do you, Hannah, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband… to have and to hold from this day forward… for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health… to love, honor, and cherish, all the days of your life?’

  I was a blubbering mess. Of course I was. It was the triumvirate of tearjerkers. Not only was it a wedding. It was the wedding that I’d waited for nearly my entire adult life. Between two people who loved each other more than anyone else in the room, the city, possibly the planet. Well, more than almost anyone else.

  I squeezed his hand.

  ‘Happy?’ Sam whispered, passing me a wad of Kleenex with his free hand, not taking his eyes off the bride. Our daughter, Hannah. ‘She looks beautiful, doesn’t she? She looks like you did at her age.’ He considered the scene with tears in his eyes. He was as soppy as I was. ‘And with Clementine next to her at the altar, it could have been you and Stacy thirty years ago.’

  I looked along the pew at Stacy. My faithful friend for more than fifty years was still beautiful. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Sometimes when I looked at Clem, for a split second I thought she was Stacy. From the outside it was impossible to see Josh at all. But she was her father’s daughter in personality and temperament.

  Luckily our daughter also got her father’s temperament. I often marveled at how mature she was. When I was her age I was living in a flat-share with three Australians, having moved to London on a drunken dare. Not our Hannah. She got her father’s academic ability and levelheadedness. But she got my sense of humor and love of fashion. That’s what made her such a good designer, and I wasn’t just saying that because she was my daughter. After more than thirty years in the business, I knew a bit about it.

  It took Josh five years to extricate himself from the company and go full tilt into conservation. He’d never been impulsive and after Wang Chung backed off from the sale, he reconsidered his options. I was more than happy to be part of his solution. Filling his rather big shoes wasn’t easy, but it was rewarding in ways I never imagined. Winnie was still our head of sales, though she took a few years off when she had her children. I had high hopes of matchmaking success with Stuart, but Cupid can be a fickle fellow, and she ended up falling in love with a lovely Chinese man she met through her parents. Stuart was destined to be one of those happy bachelors and, being fantastically rich thanks to the boom decade that followed the recession, there was no shortage of beautiful young women to keep him feeling young. So to speak. He and Brent moved back to the UK a few years after we met them, where Brent settled down with a woman that nobody liked (except him, obviously). It didn’t last but his second wife was wonderful, and they sometimes visited us.

  I wouldn’t say that Brent and Sam had an easy relationship after my confession, but true to his word, Sam didn’t dwell on what had happened. He understood that Brent and I were friends, and he was sensitive to his feelings when we got back to Hong Kong, newly engaged. Brent did an admirable job of being my friend first, and always remained so.

  Later, at the reception in the beautiful colonial house, one that Josh had saved, Sam was warming to his father-of-the-bride speech. ‘I’m so happy to welcome my son-in-law into our family. Finally, there’s a man around for support! No, I’m joking. Living with Han and Hannah has been tremendous, and never boring. Never boring.’ He smiled at me. ‘I’d like to toast my wife, who’s been my joy, my support, my best friend and my constant love. I love you more every day. I love you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I mouthed. My waterproof lash extensions were really paying off.


  ‘And please raise a glass to my daughter,’ he continued. ‘Hannah, you’re an incredible young woman, intelligent, beautiful, joyful, compassionate, creative and loving. Most of all, you’re you, always you. Most fathers worry about their daughters, that they’ll fall in with the wrong crowd. With a best friend like Clementine, I never worried about that! No, I never worried about you, never feared that you’d do anything just because others were doing it. You’ve always known exactly who you are and what you want. You are incredible because you’re you. You’ve always been true to yourself, and we love you very much.’

  My daughter laughed, raised her glass and said, ‘My mother taught me that. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. To my parents.’

  The End

  Every time you write a review, an author gets a cupcake, so if you enjoyed The Expat Diaries: Twelve Days to Christmas, please take a minute to share your thoughts on your favorite eBook websites (links are below).

  About the Author

  Michele Gorman is the Sunday Times and USA Today bestselling author of eight romantic comedies. Born and raised in the US, Michele has lived in London for 16 years. She is very fond of naps, ice cream and Richard Curtis films but objects to spiders and the word “portion”.

  You can find out more about Michele by following her on twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Goodreads, or by reading her blog or website. Do chat with her on twitter or facebook – she’s always looking for an excuse to procrastinate!

  @MicheleGormanUK

  MicheleGormanBooks

  Michele’s newest book, The Curvy Girls Club, is available globally in paperback and all eBook formats.

  Fed up with always struggling to lose weight, best friends Katie, Ellie, Pixie and Jane start a social club where size doesn't matter. It soon grows into London's most popular club - a place to have fun instead of counting carbs - and the women find their lives changing in ways they never imagined.

  Outside the club, life isn't as rosy but the curvy girls soon realize that no matter what life throws at them, together, anything is possible . . .

  "This is a delightful book of friendship, acceptance, and belonging for anyone who has ever wondered: "What if?"" Publishers Weekly

  The Curvy Girls Club on Amazon US and Amazon Canada

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  Read on for a sneak peek at The Curvy Girls Club

  Excerpt from The Curvy Girls Club copyright © 2014 Michele Gorman

  Where Confidence is the New Black

  The Curvy Girls Club

  Chapter 1

  Pixie rejoined our little group, muttering as she shot dirty looks at Pam, our Slimming Zone consultant and weekly bearer of bad news.

  ‘I’ve had it,’ she said. ‘Do you know how much weight I’ve lost in the last four years? Do you? I worked it out over Christmas. Seventy-six pounds. That’s two hundred and sixty thousand calories I haven’t enjoyed,’ she continued, saving us calculating that depressing equation. ‘And do you know how much weight I’ve gained back?’ Her hazel eyes glinted.

  Glances bounced between Ellie and Jane and me. I wouldn’t answer that question if water-boarded.

  ‘All but seven pounds. It’s taken me years to lose what I could have flushed down the loo with a minor bout of dysentery. I’d have been better off drinking the water on holiday in Morocco.’

  ‘You’ve just hit a wall, that’s all,’ said Ellie. ‘It happens to everyone. You’ll feel better next week.’

  ‘It feels like the Great Wall of China, love.’ She shook her head. ‘Why should next week be any better, or the week after that?’

  Ellie was flummoxed by such blasphemy. ‘It just will be. You’ve got to stick with it. Pam says-’

  ‘I know what Pam says, Ellie. I’ve been coming here for four years. Four years. I’ve lost seven pounds. I’m sick of it. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?’ She gestured around the room, to the crowd of new faces. Post-Christmas optimists. By Easter they’d be as bitter as Pixie.

  ‘Because we love each other and get to see each other every week here,’ said Ellie. ‘You’re my best friends. Katie and I wouldn’t have met you if it wasn’t for Slimming Zone.’

  We’d joined not long after Pixie did, and I couldn’t have been more grateful to have Ellie at my side. I’d looked forward to that first meeting about as much as my family’s annual visit to Great Aunt Bernardine, who smelled of cats and liked to tell me why I was single.

  We’d entered the church hall fearing the worst. Would they announce our weight in booming voices tinged with judgment? Would everyone laugh? Was the rest of the group only there to lose those stubborn last five pounds, making us the elephants in the room?

  We needn’t have worried. Everyone was friendly and supportive. Nobody announced pounds gained, only pounds lost. And as Ellie just pointed out, that’s how we met Jane and Pixie. They were already friends, Jane having joined about a year before Pixie. They might seem like opposites but Slimming Zone had brought them together, as it had us all.

  I scanned the packed hall, thinking about Pixie’s question. ‘We could be anywhere together,’ I said.

  ‘But we have fun here,’ Ellie said.

  ‘No we don’t,’ Pixie scoffed. ‘We have fun at dinner after we leave here.’

  ‘I like these meetings,’ Jane said, staring at the growing pile of knitting in her lap. ‘I feel like they help me. And we’re… among friends here.’

  ‘I’m with Jane,’ Ellie said. ‘I feel better for coming.’

  ‘And it has worked for you, Ellie.’ As her flatmate, work colleague and best friend I knew how hard she tried. She was only twenty-five, with all the lovely elasticity that brings, so hers was puppy fat rather than the established fat of us older dogs. She’d lost a fair amount of weight but still saw no beauty in her size fourteen frame.

  ‘I love you girls,’ I said. ‘But Pixie’s right. Our friendship is built mostly around how many Whoppers we’ve eaten.’

  Being overweight does tend to preoccupy one. Like having a hangnail, it’s always there to irritate you. Sometimes it’s painful but usually it’s just tedious.

  ‘I think we need more than this.’

  * * * * *

  ‘I gained a pound,’ said Jane at the next meeting. ‘And I’ve eaten nothing but Special K for a week.' She glared at her thighs. ‘My wee stinks of wheat.’

  Jane was no stranger to unpleasant side effects. When she was on the cabbage soup diet none of us could be in the car with her unless the windows were down.

  ‘That’s not healthy, Jane,’ I said.

  ‘Neither is being thirty pounds overweight,’ she snapped back. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.’

  Ellie bounded over to Jane for a hug. She reminded me of a half-grown sheepdog when she moved, with her blondish-brown flyaway curls that always found their way over her eyes. She was just as friendly and gawky and I often had the urge to pet her.

  ‘How much Special K are you eating?’ she gently enquired.

  Jane shrugged her off. ‘So shoot me, I get hungry! Those serving sizes are for children.’ Tears sprang to her eyes.

  ‘Oh Jane, I didn’t mean to upset you. I only asked. Maybe something a bit more well-balanced than cereal might work better?’

  ‘It’s just till I get started,’ she said. She always said that.

  Dieting was an extreme sport for Jane – the more outrageous, the bigger the potential payoff. There wasn’t a fad, plan, pill or potion that she hadn’t tried since having her children, but nothing shifted the baby weight. Those babies were now nine and seven. Her house was full of photos of her pre-child days, when she wore wispy dresses and wasn’t afraid of shorts. Her friendl
y, heart-shaped face beamed at the camera, wide blue eyes sparkling and long, thick blond hair cascading over her shoulders. She didn’t pose for the camera any more.

  ‘But those adverts!’ she said as she pressed her double chin with the back of her hand. She hated that chin. Last year she spent hours making kissy fish faces in a bid to tone it. Pixie threatened to demonstrate her Kegel exercises if she didn’t stop doing it with us in public. ‘They couldn’t run the adverts if they weren’t true. Trading Standards wouldn’t let them. Would they?’

  Our expressions answered her.

  ‘I knew it. Poxy adverts.’

  ‘It’s not the adverts,’ Pixie said. ‘It’s just human nature. If we stuck to exactly what they told us to eat we’d lose weight. We’d also lose the will to live.’ She shook her head. ‘A woman can’t live on no-fat, no-fun food alone… which is why I’ve made a decision. Ladies, this is my last meeting.’

  ‘No!’ Jane and Ellie said together.

  ‘You can’t quit!’ Jane said.

  Pixie shrugged. ‘Of course I can. I’m sick to death of letting my entire life revolve around every calorie I put into my gob. I told you last week it wasn’t worth it for me.’ She crossed her arms. There was no budging her when she did that. ‘I say bollocks to weekly weigh-ins.’

  ‘But what about us?’ Ellie’s voice hitched in her throat.

  ‘You could always quit too. Then we can do something fun together instead.’