by Talli Roland
We’d spent all of Christmas Eve sorting through countless boxes of decorations, wrestling fake trees, and pinning down the party’s schedule. Mimi was confident the bash would be kick-ass, and that any guests only planning brief visits would stay put for the night. The RSVP list was well over one-hundred and fifty, half of whom were also attending the wedding. I should feel victorious, but instead I just felt numb. The rush of fury had seeped away, leaving behind an overwhelming fatigue. I almost couldn’t wait until this party – and Christmas – were over.
Once I had a few drinks and the event was in full swing, I’d enjoy it, I told myself. At the very least, a little alcohol (a lot of alcohol) would blot out the memory of James’ voice asking me to wait as I fled the house. A thread of doubt weaved through me as I pictured the tender expression on his face when we’d made love. Maybe I should have at least stayed to hear his explanation . . . but no. What explanation could there be for leaving someone at the altar?
‘Right, let’s get moving.’ Mimi interrupted my thoughts, ushering a group of men through the door. We had one hour to set up everything before guests arrived, and Mimi had corralled her Aussie friends to help us out. I stood back as she directed the process with the authority of a drill sergeant.
Within half an hour, boughs of holly decked the walls, Christmas trees twinkled from each corner of the pub, and mistletoe festooned every available surface. Bar staff bustled about, cleaning glasses and making more mulled wine, and the afternoon sun shone through the large glass windows. Inside and out, it was the perfect Christmas setting.
‘Lucy?’
A voice sounded from behind, and I spun to see Robert’s sister, decked out in a deep green satin dress with her hair in an elegant topknot. She looked gorgeous.
‘Hey! Thought you weren’t coming?’ I gave her a quick hug, then pulled back. ‘You’re a bit early, though. We’re still setting up, but feel free to grab a drink anyway.’
‘Believe me, after the morning I’ve had, I’d love a drink.’ Daisy grimaced. ‘But that’s not why I’m here.’
‘Oh, all right.’ I scanned her serious face, wondering what was going on. Robert’s wedding was in ninety minutes – surely she should be at the venue tending the bride.
‘Look, this will sound absolutely mental, but . . .’
I tilted my head. ‘Yes?’
‘Can Robert and Greta have their wedding reception here? Join in with the party?’ Daisy rushed out the words.
‘What?’ The word burst from me in a startled laugh. ‘You’re joking, right?’ I’d never thought Daisy had a sick sense of humour, but she’d proved me wrong. She couldn’t be serious.
‘I wish I was.’ She twisted the fabric of her skirt, then let the heavy material fall to her sides. ‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but you really are the last resort. The hotel rang this morning to say the sprinkler system malfunctioned, drenching the mezzanine level where the reception would be held. Everything – the decorations, centrepieces, cake – is ruined.’
I lifted a hand to my mouth. Oh my God.
‘We’ve been trying all morning to find replacements, but it’s Christmas and everything is closed. And the best space the hotel can offer is a conference room in the basement.’ Daisy’s lip curled. ‘You should see it. No windows, hideous beige decor, and barely half the guests would fit. Not to mention the caterers refuse to work there because they have to carry the food down the lift, and there’s some sort of health and safety issues or whatever.’
‘Yikes.’ I waited for a flash of triumph at the wedding day disaster, but I was too emotionally drained to feel anything.
‘Greta and Rob didn’t want me to ask you – Rob said he’d put you through enough already. I told them it was a long shot. But I thought . . .’ She met my eyes. ‘I don’t know what happened between you and my brother, exactly. But I do know whatever it was, it hit him hard, too. He was like the walking dead for months.’
I raised my eyebrows. Hit him hard? I’d thought he’d moved on, no problem.
‘This is a crazy thing to ask, I know. But it would mean a lot if you could accommodate them. Most of the guests will be here at some stage, anyway.’
I stared at Daisy, thoughts racing through my mind. Was she really asking me to host my ex’s reception? To watch him and his new wife swoon with love; toast their future? No. I shook my head. No way.
‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled finally. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘Okay.’ Daisy put a hand on my arm. ‘I understand. It was worth a try, anyway.’ She turned to go.
‘Tell Robert . . .’ My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. ‘Tell Robert I hope he finds something.’ As angry as his wedding had made me, I wouldn’t wish that scenario on anyone.
Daisy nodded, then disappeared through the door.
I sank onto a chair and breathed in. The scents of Christmas filled my nose: spicy wine; fake-pine spray of the Christmas trees; roasting turkey from the kitchen. This bash was supposed to banish the ghosts of the past, not invite them in to party! But now they’d come knocking, and even though I’d turned them away, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d done the right thing. Would I forever be haunted by not helping?
But seriously, the idea was ludicrous, I argued with myself. Jilted ex-girlfriend saves the day when former boyfriend’s wedding is ruined? Especially when that jilted ex-girlfriend is doing everything possible to forget said ex’s treachery!
Except that it wasn’t treachery, I suddenly realized, recalling Daisy’s words how Robert found the break-up difficult, too. Maybe he hadn’t intended to hurt me. He’d made a decision that was right for him – it just happened it wasn’t the one I wanted. He could have shared his doubts sooner, but perhaps I should have picked up on them, too. I’d blindly followed the pre-determined path without raising my head to see if he was still on it with me.
I didn’t love Robert anymore, that much was true, and I was so tired of being driven by anger and hurt. It was time to forge my own path, and to make memories I wanted to remember . . . starting with today. I dug in my pocket and withdrew my phone, then pulled up Daisy’s contact.
‘Daisy? Come hold the reception here. I’d be happy to have you. And Robert and Greta,’ I added, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all.
As I listened to her excited exclamations, something like peace filtered in as the last vestiges of resentment slipped away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Several hours later, the party was in full swing. The Dirty Mondays belted out tunes – they’d even performed their own interpretation of Robert and Greta’s wedding song The Power of Love, although it was almost unrecognizable with the inexplicable didgeridoo. Wedding guests and party-goers alike thronged the bar, and outside on the terrace, people admired the London skyline. Mimi was making full use of the mistletoe, performing a tonsil examination with her tongue on a hulking Aussie in the corner.
Not in a million years would I have imagined this turn of events, but the party-cum-reception was an unqualified success. Only one thing was missing . . . James. I kept peering into the crowd to spot him, but so far, he hadn’t made it out. Not surprising, given how I’d behaved.
I bit my lip, recalling how I’d run out on him and his parents, then ignored the texts and messages. I’d really messed up. Cancelling his wedding had likely been a tough decision, and although he could have acted sooner, I knew he hadn’t taken it lightly. The pain on his face when he discussed the past made that clear. But even if I never spoke to him again, Robert and Greta had shown me there could be a happy ending after all the heartache.
‘Lucy?’ Someone touched my elbow and I turned to see Robert, resplendent in a tux. His cheeks were flushed with the heat of the room and his eyes sparkled with happiness. I’d never seen him so handsome, and my heart squeezed – not with anger or hurt, like it would have before, but with nostalgia and hope for my own future.
‘Hi there. Congratulati
ons.’ God, it was weird, thinking he was married.
He nodded, then cleared his throat. ‘I just want to say thank you for allowing us to hold the reception here. It’s not quite what Greta had planned, but we both think it turned out even better.’ He mock-cringed. ‘Except for our wedding song.’
I laughed. ‘Yeah, my ears still hurt! But I’m glad things worked out.’
‘Me, too.’ Rob squeezed my arm. ‘Well, I’d better get back to it. Thanks again.’
I watched as he pushed through the crowd, fielding congratulations with every step. Then, I crossed the room and heaved open the door, the cold air stinging my cheeks. I picked my way across the terrace towards the river, leaning on the railing and gazing out at the city. The dome of St Paul’s glowed and the lights of the Millennium Bridge sparkled against the darkened sky. I glanced at my watch: 11:57 p.m.
This time last year, I’d been in pieces after the love of my life rejected my proposal. Now, that man was married to someone else and I’d hosted his wedding reception. But despite the craziness of it all, I’d somehow managed to make Christmas positive again.
I turned to head inside, nearly colliding with someone. ‘Sorry, I . . . James!’ My heart started pumping fast as I took in the familiar face. ‘Er, um, hi!’
‘Hi.’ He stepped back with a tentative expression. ‘I hope it’s okay that I’ve come? I know you didn’t respond to my messages, but—’
I stopped his words with a kiss, wrapping my arms around his waist and drawing him close. There’d be plenty of time for explanations. Right now, as the final seconds of the day ticked away, I wanted to embrace the present.
‘Merry Christmas,’ James breathed when he pulled back.
‘Merry Christmas.’ I smiled up at him as the twelve chimes of Big Ben began to sound. Christmas had passed, and now “last Christmas” wasn’t the one where my heart had been broken, but the one where I’d finally put it together again.
THE END
Other Christmas novellas by Talli Roland:
Mistletoe in Manhattan
Married by Midnight
Christmas at Cranberry Cottage
This is Christmas: Four Festive Novellas
Miracle at the Museum of Broken Hearts
ALSO BY TALLI ROLAND
Build A Man: Serenity Holland, Book 1
Shortlisted for Best Romantic Read at the 2013 Festival of Romance
Chosen as a Top 15 Pick of 2011 by Chick Lit News and Reviews
Voted a Top 10 Book of 2011 by Trashionista
Construct A Couple: Serenity Holland, Book 2
Chosen as a top read of 2012 by Novel Escapes
Marriage to Measure: Serenity Holland, Book 3
The Hating Game
Shortlisted for Best Romantic Read at the 2011 Festival of Romance
Chosen as a Top 10 book of 2010 by Trashionista
Watching Willow Watts
A Top 100 Amazon Customer Favourite for 2011
Selected as a Favourite Romantic Read by Romantic Fiction Online
Nominated as a Top 10 Book of 2011 by Trashionista
The Pollyanna Plan
An Amazon Editors’ Pick for 2012
Shortlisted for Best Romantic Read at the 2012 Festival of Romance
The No-Kids Club
A Top 10 Amazon UK Bestseller
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Talli Roland writes fun, romantic fiction. Born and raised in Canada, Talli now lives in London, where she savours the great cultural life (coffee and wine).
Despite training as a journalist, Talli soon found she preferred making up her own stories – complete with happy endings. Twice shortlisted for the UK’s Festival of Romance, Talli's novels have also been chosen as Amazon Customer Favourites and top books of the year by industry review websites. She’s a bestseller in Britain and the United States.
To learn more about Talli, go to her website, follow her on Twitter, or check out her blog. She loves hearing from readers! Feel free to get in touch: [email protected].
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Last Christmas © Talli Roland 2013
E-edition published worldwide 2013
© Talli Roland
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical (including but not limited to: the Internet, photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system), without prior permission in writing from the author and/or publisher.
The moral right of Talli Roland as the author of the work
has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Cover design by Notting Hill Press In-house. Cover image by avian.
All characters and events featured in this book are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any person, organisation, place or thing living or dead, or event or place, is purely coincidental and completely unintentional.