It’s such a tense watch that, when Damian unexpectedly arrives home, the sound of the door opening gives me the fright of my life.
‘Jesus Christ, Damian!’ I say as I hurry to pause the documentary. I place a hand on my chest and take a deep breath. ‘Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’
‘You’re jumpy,’ he points out, hovering in the doorway.
I can’t help but notice that he’s dressed up.
‘How was your emergency?’ I ask him. ‘Your TV arrived.’
I’m sure he’s already realised that, given how massive the box is.
‘Oh, sweet,’ he says, hurrying towards it. ‘It’s for the bedroom.’
As soon as he moves away from the doorway, I spot the tiny brunette who has been standing behind him this whole time. She must be in her twenties; she’s wearing a tiny pink dress but no coat – doesn’t she know it’s December? She can’t be more than 5’4”, which is probably why I didn’t notice her in the first place.
Stuck On You is available on Amazon now – and free to read with Kindle Unlimited.
Preview: Single All The Way
Lexi Newman is coming home for Christmas… she should have called first
The silver lining, after Lexi is dumped by her long-term boyfriend, is that she’s finally getting to spend Christmas back home with her family after years of having to do what her ex wanted to do. The only problem is that Lexi hasn’t called ahead to let her parents know that she’s coming.
Lexi arrives home to discover that her parents have decided to go on holiday for Christmas for the first time ever. With nowhere else to go and no one to spend the holidays with, Lexi has no choice but the spend Christmas all alone in her parents’ house with only their smart speaker for company. But the bigger the house, the emptier it seems.
As Lexi encounters nosy neighbours and old friends and frenemies she is desperate for no one to find out that she’s all alone for Christmas. Lexi pretends she’s in town to borrow her parents’ house for an epic party while they’re away, but as more and more people find out about it, it’s going to take more than some loud music and flashing lights to convince people that she isn’t home alone.
With just 12 days to go until Christmas, will Lexi find someone special to spend it with, or will she be single all the way?
A festive novella from bestseller Portia MacIntosh. Perfect for fans of Sophie Kinsella, Lindsay Kelk and Mhairi McFarlane
Chapter One
12 Days Until Christmas
In the movies you can see a break-up coming from a mile away, can’t you? Some poor woman shouting into her phone about how her signal is fine, only to realise that her significant other doesn’t mean that the call is breaking up, they are breaking up. Or when a loved-up woman’s boyfriend says he needs to talk and she gets all excited, thinking he’s going to propose, but this is at the start of the movie, so everyone watching knows she’s about to get dumped.
I have seen so many movies and TV shows where couples break up – you’d think I would have been better prepared for my own, or at least been able to see it coming.
I’ll tell you something else I never saw coming – that I would have to keep working for my ex, because of course he’s my boss. Life is always horribly complicated that way, isn’t it? As if getting dumped isn’t torture enough, I have to keep taking orders from him. If it isn’t ‘move out of my apartment, Lexi’ then it’s ‘Lexi, make me a coffee’. Do you have any idea how demoralising it is, making coffee for the man who broke your heart? Do you know how tempting it is, to put real milk in his coffee instead of soya milk? Don’t worry, it wouldn’t kill him, he’d just be stuck on the loo for a while. I doubt it would make me feel better anyway and it’s far less than he deserves.
Tom and I have been together since we met at university. We were both training to work in law but, as time went on, we realised we had to prioritise one person’s career over the other, and somehow we ended up putting Tom’s career before mine. At the time, when we first decided to move so that Tom could take a job, it felt like the most natural thing. We had talked about getting married and having kids – at least three. Well, I’ve always been an only child, and Tom was one of five. He would tell me stories from his childhood, about what he and his siblings would get up to, and while his family might not have had as much money as mine (and I am really grateful for everything I had growing up) I always wish I’d had brothers and sisters. So, with me likely taking time off to start a family at some point, it felt right to let Tom take the lead career wise. After moving around quite a bit, it is almost a year to the day since we decided to move to Essex, for Tom’s dream job (they were always his dream job, whenever he would talk me into moving again). This time was different though, this time he got me a job at the same firm, working as his secretary. Not exactly what I trained for, but it was in my field and it meant that we would get to spend more time together, even if he was working long hours.
You know what relationships are like though, one minute you’re all loved up, the next minute your long-term boyfriend is dumping you for the girl he’s been cheating on you with. A 21-year-old yoga instructor called Mia who he met at the gym.
The first thing I did was blame myself. Well, I’m a decade older than her. I don’t go to the gym much these days, so I’m a few pounds heavier, but I’ve been struggling to find the time to go. I drag myself out of bed on a morning, do a full day in the office, and I’m always knackered when I get home but I would still make dinner and do the dishes – always me, every night, and now I feel like a mug.
Eventually I realised that Tom was just a selfish, bad person. The kind of person who would cheat on the woman who sacrificed her career to support him – and then kick her out to move his other woman in! That is not the kind of person I want to be with and I’m better off without him… I am still working for him though, unfortunately.
I know what you’re thinking, that I should quit my job – believe me, I would love to – but this is real life and people can’t just quit their jobs.
When it all kicked off – and I was subsequently kicked out – I spent a couple of nights in a cheap hotel before I found myself a cheap flat. I say it’s cheap but somehow most of my money still goes towards my rent. I am on the lookout for a new job and as soon as I find one that works for me I’ll delight in giving my notice to Tom… but in the meantime I have bills to pay.
My only other option would be to move back in with my parents – I’m sure they would have me – but that feels too much like admitting I’ve failed. Failed to find the right man, failed to get my career going, failed to be financially independent… No one wants to admit to themselves that they’ve failed at life, never mind to other people.
At least I’m going to spend Christmas with them this year, and I’m really looking forward to it, because it’s the first Christmas I will have spent in my hometown in a long time. Tom and I always celebrated Christmas together, wherever we were living at the time, trying to get our own Christmas traditions going so that when we had a family of our own, we could celebrate it our own way, in the massive house we were planning to build together. I wonder if he’s going to build it with Mia now – the house, the traditions, the family…
Enough about Tom. The important thing is that I’m going to spend Christmas with my family, I’m job hunting, I’m saving up. I’m going to turn things around.
I twirl around on my desk chair. I’ve done my job search for the day. I’ve doodled in my note pad until my hand hurts, sketching ideas for festive cakes and biscuits that I could bake with my mum in her massive kitchen. Baking has become a real hobby of mine, since I found myself single but unwilling to mingle. I used to love it, when I was younger, but as life went on it got harder and harder to find the time. I bake all the time now – cakes, biscuits, breads – the skinny blueberry muffins I bring to work with my every day. Which reminds me…
I hop up from my chair, a little uneasy on my feet from the twirling, and he
ad into the kitchen to pop the kettle on. It’s definitely time for my mid-morning break. A cup of tea and a blueberry muffin is exactly what I need right now.
I hear the phone ringing on my desk and dash back in to answer it.
‘Good morning. Marsh & Cavendish. Alexis speaking, how can I help you?’ I chirp brightly, sticking to the strict telephone script we are given.
‘Hello Lexi,’ Tom says brightly.
I didn’t look at the phone before I answered it. If I’d known it was Tom, calling from his office, there’s no way I would have been so friendly.
‘Good morning, Mr Jones,’ I reply.
‘Come on, Lex, you know you don’t have to call me that,’ he replies, dropping his usual professional tone for a moment.
‘What can I do for you?’ I ask, keeping things professional.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s Mr Jones all the way from now on – the only other things I’d like to call him are much, much worse. Not the kind of things you would say to your boss, even if he is a wanker.
‘Can you come into my office for a moment please?’ he asks.
‘OK,’ I reply as my brain goes into overdrive. There’s something about his voice that makes this seem unusual…
I walk into his office and stand in front of his desk like a terrified child, waiting to be ticked off by the head teacher.
‘Just a quick word,’ he starts.
The day I found out that Tom was cheating on me was the same day that he left me for Mia. This is going to sound absolutely pathetic, but when I found out that he had someone else I didn’t get mad at him. I didn’t dump him or hit him or even use so much as a PG-approved swearword. I panicked at the thought of life without him. I’d been with him for so long and relied on him for so much that the thought of life without the lying, cheating bastard seemed like a worse prospect than staying with him, knowing full well he was treating my heart like a punching bag. Looking back now, I realise how lucky I am that he did leave me, because I would have stayed with him and he would have done this to me again and again. Well, I say lucky, I don’t feel that lucky living in my pokey flat, working this crappy job, and having to look at his smug face every single day. But I can see now that I was so miserable with Tom, and I know that I wouldn’t have ever been happy with him. After the initial panic of being dumped wore off my feelings naturally progressed from wanting him back to hating his guts – so now he’s just like any other boss, I suppose.
‘I wanted to talk about us. Please, take a seat,’ Tom instructs me.
I reluctantly sit down opposite him at his desk. The last thing I want to talk about is us – there is no us anymore.
‘I know we said we’d keep things professional in the office, but a lot went on and we can’t keep on pretending it didn’t,’ he starts.
I nod my head. The way he’s talking feels awfully formal, like I’m a client he’s giving advice to. It feels so strange to be on such weird terms with the man I spent so many years of my life with. He knows everything about me (the good stuff, the bad stuff and the just plain ugly stuff), he probably knows my naked body even better than I do, and now he talks to me as though he would someone who were paying him by the hour to discuss their divorce.
I might be over Tom, and as bleak as my situation is there’s no way I’d ever want to get back with him, but one thing about our break-up that has always bothered me – and it still annoys me to this day – is the fact that he never actually apologised for what he did. Tom hasn’t shown a hint of remorse over the way he treated me (which is probably why I’m finding it so easy to despise him now) despite the fact we spent so many happy (ish) years together. Perhaps an apology is what he’s building up to now... He’s finally going to apologise! I can feel myself softening towards him already, it’s a big deal that he’s going to do it, even if it has taken him months to get around to it.
‘I’m replacing you,’ he tells me bluntly.
‘Well that’s very… wait, what?’
That doesn’t sound like an apology, it sounds like I’m going to be adding losing my job the list of crappy things that have happen to me this year.
‘You’re sacking me?’ I squeak.
Oh, God, I can’t be sacked. I need this job – I need the money. I wouldn’t be in this room, with this tosser, if I weren’t desperate.
‘No, of course not,’ he replies. I breathe a very slight sigh of relief. ‘Anyway, I'm not sure our strained relationship is a sackable offence.’
It probably isn’t, but it definitely sounds like he googled it to see if it was.
‘I’m getting a new PA,’ he explains. ‘You will be given a new position in the office.’
‘OK,’ I reply weakly. ‘Who will I be working for now?’
I really hope it isn’t one of the partners, especially not Mr Marsh, the dirty old pervert.
‘Well, everyone really. You’ll be taking on the role of office administrator.’
‘You mean office junior,’ I correct him with a frown, thoroughly unimpressed by my demotion.
‘Well, Lexi, we don’t call it that anymore,’ he insists. ‘Office administrator is the preferred title, it makes clear that you don’t have to be young to take on the role.’
I widen my eyes. I’m 32-years-old and he’s giving me a euphemised job title, not only to make it sound like a bigger deal that it is, but also because he no longer considers me to be in the junior age bracket. He’s dating someone who is barely out of her teens and suddenly I’m an old lady.
‘The pay will be slightly less, unfortunately,’ he adds.
So it’s not enough that he kicks me out of our home, cheats on me, and dumps me, now he’s docking my wages and demoting me to making cups of coffee and photocopying. What a piece of work!
‘My new PA will be starting in a few days. I’m going to need you to train him up, show him the ropes for a few days, then you can start your new role next week, OK?’
I nod. I don’t know what to say.
‘This is good, isn’t it?’ Tom claps his hands together. ‘Perhaps if we’re working around each other less intensely, we can maybe see about being friends?’
I nod my head, again, without saying a word. Well, what can I say? I’ll just have to put up with my new position until I find another job. I wasn’t planning on staying here any longer than I had to anyway. What I’d like to do is pick up that cold cup of coffee that’s sitting on his desk and pour it over his head before telling him I quit, and that he should go fuck himself, before walking out with my head held high. That’s what the old Lexi would have done, but this Lexi can’t afford it.
Chapter Two
10 Days Until Christmas
I grew up on Hope Island, a tidal island just off the coast of Marram Bay, a coastal town in Yorkshire. I lived there until I went to uni because, as cute as it was, it would drive me crazy being so out of the way of everything. Never mind that, when you live a couple of hours drive from the nearest decent city, it can be real pain when it comes to shopping and going out, but I grew up on a tidal island, which means that even when I was willing to make the long journey to Leeds, just to get my hands on some Topshop clothes and a Starbucks, it wasn’t always possible.
Twice a day, when the tide comes in, the road that connects Hope Island to Marram Bay is swallowed up by the North Sea, isolating the island about a mile off shore. Then, when the tide goes back out, and the road beneath re-emerges, the tidal island is connected again. Growing up there, I’d wind up doing most of my shopping online! On the flipside, now that I’m living in London, there are so many shops. Too many shops, perhaps, especially now that I’m trying to shop for a Christmas present for my mum and dad during my lunch hour, and everything is so far apart. It’s not like you can just browse the high street here.
I’m rushing back to work now, ready to meet my replacement. I feel like I’m always rushing around at the moment, and I feel like I hardly speak to my parents. We’ve never been the type to have long, weekly phone c
onversations, preferring to swap instant messages, especially now my parents, like everyone else’s parents, are all-in on Facebook now. They keep in touch with everyone on there, they get their news on there, and there’s even a Marram Bay Facebook group for local residents where they all talk about local events, swap gossip and offload old furniture on each other. I need to call them, to make a proper plan for Christmas. I know what they’ll be doing though, what they do every year. It’s usually just the two of them. Both sets of my grandparents have passed away and both my parents grew up without siblings, which is probably why they stopped at the one kid too. With Christmas usually just the two of them, they’ll get up and go for a walk, cross the causeway to Marram Bay, have a drink in their favourite pub, before going home for Christmas dinner. It is a simple but perfect Christmas and I can’t wait to be a part of it again.
I have mentioned coming for Christmas dinner a few times… but I’ve neglected to mention that if I did, I would be coming without Tom. With that in mind, I’ve decided that it might be a nice idea to surprise them. I’ve floated the idea of coming, so it won’t be a complete shock, but I’m going to leave it until the day I set off before letting them know that I’m on my way. They’re going to be absolutely buzzing.
I’m a little scared to tell them that Tom and I have broken up, and that I’m living alone – probably because they will try and talk me into moving back home to live with them, and it’s not that I wouldn’t want to, I just hate the idea of being such a failure that I have to go back to basics, start again, move back into my childhood bedroom, in my parents’ house, like the past decade meant nothing. It can’t all have been for nothing. I can’t go back to square one.
Two Night Stand: A fun, festive read - perfect for the holidays! Page 8