Last Christmas: A The Girl Before Eve Christmas Novella

by Lisa J. Hobman

  “I absolutely cannot fucking wait to be a daddy!”

  Chapter 7

  Fairy-tale of New York—The Pogues & Kirsty McColl

  Lily

  How the bloody hell had he come to that conclusion? I had watched, bemused, as he’d danced around naked before me with a huge cheesy grin on his face. And then he had gathered me up in his arms and told me how excited he was to be a daddy.

  A daddy?

  Okay so, as it turns out, he didn’t actually know my news. Part of me felt bad for my verbal tirade about my friend and her alleged loose lips. But a bigger part of me was as confused as all get out about how he had come to that exact conclusion. As he peppered me with kisses in his misplaced joy, I tried to find a way to tell him he was wrong.

  I wasn’t pregnant.

  He wasn’t about to become a father.

  My heart sank and took my stomach with it. Suddenly overcome with guilt, I pulled myself from his embrace and cupped his gorgeous, smiling, tear-stained face in my hands. The fact that he was getting all emotional about his incorrect assumptions made things worse.

  Much, much worse.

  “Adam… I… I’m not pregnant,” I whispered.

  The smile slowly disintegrated and a frown line appeared between his brows. “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m not carrying your child. I’m not pregnant. I’m so sorry.”

  “But… but you had news. And… and you’ve been acting all distant… insecure… hormonal.”

  “I have been all of those things yes… well, almost all of those things. With the exception of the last one. You’ve mistaken worry for hormones, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh. Oh, right. Okay. S-sorry.” He clambered from the bed and pulled on his underwear followed by his sweatpants. Running his hands through his sexy, tousled hair, he paced the bedroom floor, muttering to himself about being stupid and listening to his mother.

  Worry set in once more. “Adam… Adam, please sit down.”

  As if in a trance he flopped to the bed with a loud exhalation and dropped his head forward. “So… your news?” He tilted his face toward me, and I reached out to stroke his shoulder. He looked so broken, and my heart squeezed in my chest.

  I pulled myself along to sit beside him on the edge of the bed where only minutes ago he had made love to me with such passion and urgency, telling me over and over how much he loved me. How much he needed me. And now I was about to throw a ginormous spanner in the works. A spanner that may just be the undoing of us.

  I inhaled a deep, wavering breath, doing my best to gather up the strength I needed to utter my next words. He stared expectantly at me with eyebrows raised as if his patience were wearing thin. There was no better way to do this than to just… do it.

  “I’ve been asked to go to New York to be the anchor on a major entertainment magazine show.”

  His brow crumpled and confusion masked his features. “That’s your news?” His acidic tone stung, although how I could have expected anything more—after what he had been presuming—was beyond me.

  “Yes. It’s been a dream of mine ever since I visited the USA a few years back… before you and me. But this is huge for me. They want me, Adders. Me.” I could hear the pleading in my own voice and hoped he could understand what this meant to me.

  My stomach roiled as the butterflies inside became elephants and I suddenly felt very nauseated.

  He nodded absently. “I see…” Silence descended on us and once again I twisted my hands in my lap, desperate to touch him. Desperate to feel his skin beneath my fingertips. Desperate to know that he wasn’t slipping away from me. He sat upright but didn’t make eye contact. “How long is the job for?”

  Another deep breath. “Two years… initially.”

  He gasped. “Two fucking years?”

  I jumped at the sudden volume of his voice. This was not going well. “Yes.”

  “And what do you mean by initially?”

  “There’s… there’s a chance it will be longer if things work out. It may be… permanent.”

  “And you’ve said yes to this?” Now he made eye contact. Intense, chocolate-brown eyes burned into me.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “But you’re going to say yes? You’re going to leave? And when would you be going?”

  I took a deep, shaking breath. “December twenty-seventh.”

  He gasped and his eyes widened. “Two fucking days after Christmas? This has got to be a joke, Lily. You’re leaving me two fucking days after fucking Christmas?”

  “I’d presumed you would come too,” I croaked.

  “And do what? Sit around on a bloody sun lounger while you live the high life? Fuck’s sake, Lil. I have a job. Responsibilities!” He extended his arm and pointed into the ether. “Those kids need me.”

  Bitterness spiked and I stood to face him. “I need you too, Adam.”

  His derisive snort was like a punch to my gut. “No. No, you don’t. You just need a bloody camera in your face. Maybe that way you’ll actually feel worthy.”

  “You total shit!” I screamed. “You utter bloody fucking shit!”

  He covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Lily. That was uncalled for. I didn’t mean—”

  The dam was burst and a deluge of truth forged ahead from my lips. “Adam, I have loved you since I was six years old. Six years old. But you didn’t love me back. So I had to learn to cope with that. I had to learn to deal with the fact that you married my best friend. That you didn’t see me that way.” Emotion cracked my voice and tears spilled over trailing down my cheeks which were burning with the heat of anger. “That was my reality for so damn long. So excuse me if I have acquired a somewhat independent streak. You have loved me for four years. It’s rather different, don’t you think? I am the way I am now and I can’t change that. I don’t want to change that.”

  He stepped into my personal space and grabbed my upper arms, almost hard enough to hurt. “I have loved you my whole fucking life, Lily. I just didn’t realise it. I was an idiot. But I know it now.” His voice trailed off into an angst-filled whisper. “Why do you want to throw away what we have?”

  His pained expression caused fresh tears to fall, and I reached up to touch his stubbled cheek. “I don’t want to throw away what we have. I love you more than anything in this world, Adam Langton. Always have. Always will. But I need my career too. It’s the only thing that’s… that’s really mine. It’s what kept me going all those years that I didn’t have you.”

  Shaking hands reached up to cup my face. “But you have me now. I’m really yours. And you will have me forever. Please don’t leave me to go to America.” His lips crushed into mine in a fervent, heated, imploring kiss, and I melted into him.

  Just as I always did.

  Chapter 8

  Lonely This Christmas—Mud

  Adam

  My heart was breaking.

  Shattering at her words.

  I had made a foolish and dangerous presumption. After our four years together I had almost resigned myself to the fact that children were maybe not going to happen for us, and so getting so bloody excited over something I hadn’t had confirmed was the most ridiculous mistake I had ever made. Well, besides the one where I had neglected to kiss Lily on that day many moons ago when we had played tennis.

  And now she was considering leaving for the USA. Why did everything seem to be turning to shit? Why now? The thought of losing her made me feel physically sick, but the thought of upping sticks and going to America didn’t sit comfortably with me either. This was her dream. Not mine. And now suddenly I was faced with the reality that I had married someone who was possibly broken beyond repair. And it had been me that had done the breaking.

  No matter how many times I told her that I loved her, she would still have the memories in the back of her mind of me being with Eve first.

  And I had no idea how to fix that.

  I couldn’t leave Edinburgh. Not perma
nently. But I couldn’t ask her to give up on her dream either. Resentment would be sure to set in. And no one wants to live like that.

  Great fucking Christmas this was turning out to be.

  I pretty much begged her with my kiss and my words not to leave. But how could I expect her to stay? Perhaps the reality of being with me wasn’t as good as the fantasy after all? Perhaps we had overstepped some invisible line and reached the point of no return?

  I watched as she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the water running, and realising that the conversation was over for now, I made my way downstairs to the living room. Monty lay fast asleep on the rug in front of the Christmas tree, and George Michael mocked me from the sound system. Yes, everything had been wonderful last Christmas. And I wished I could borrow Marty McFly’s DeLorean and go back there to pre-empt all of this. To work harder to show her that I didn’t regret a single second of being with her. Maybe then we would be looking forward to Christmas morning as we had done for the last four years. But instead there was a cloud of doubt and fear hanging over us.

  The wonderful warm memories of the Christmas before came back to haunt me. We had sat drinking champagne by the light of the Christmas tree and opening our gifts. She had bought me a first edition JD Salinger novel that must have cost the earth. I had bought her a little heart-shaped plaque that read simply, “Tak ma hairt wherever ye go”. And now the reality was that she would be doing exactly that if she did leave for America—but the rest of me would remain here.

  Last Christmas had been so romantic. Lenora, Lily’s mum, came to us for lunch as she always did. And we had fun playing a silly guessing game before roasting marshmallows on the open fire in the evening. Lily called them s’mores. They were gooey and delicious and we ended up sticky and giggling after too much wine.

  Once Lenora had retired to her bedroom, Lily and I talked into the wee hours about how many children we would have. Last Christmas that was something we were hoping would happen. But it couldn’t happen if we lived on different continents.

  I sat staring at the white lights of the tree as little shafts of light danced around on the branches and ornaments. The room was silent and I was trying hard to form some kind of plan. Perhaps she could have her dream and we could work out some way of spending time together too. I mean, I had the school holidays, and although it would be expensive, I could fly out to the USA as often as they occurred. Perhaps she could fly home sometimes too. I wouldn’t give up.

  There had to be a way for us both to be happy.

  Lily

  Monday came around quickly, and for once I was relieved. The atmosphere at home had been strange to say the least. Adam was doing his best to make me feel loved. It was as if he thought I was giving up on us. Leaving him, not just going to America for a while. We were married, for goodness’ sake. We could cope with anything. We had been through everything together our whole lives. Why should this be so different?

  My stomach was churning as I sat there in my office, thinking about the argument we’d had. I was supposed to be working on the story about the royal pregnancy and how excited the people of Scotland were, but the cruel words Adam had said in the heat of the moment came back to haunt me. Remembering them made me want to throw up, and I dashed from my desk with my hand covering my mouth. Thankfully I made it in time. The fact that this was affecting me so badly made me question everything about my decision to go through with the move.

  For so long all I had wanted was for Adam to look at me the way he had looked at Eve. And now that I had that, it was as if nothing was good enough for me. Nothing meant enough. I was selfish and stupid; sabotaging everything without intending to. And I could understand why he’d said that I was feeling unworthy. Deep down I knew he was right. All my adult life I had moved from relationship to relationship, never getting close enough to anyone just in case Adam suddenly had some kind of bloody epiphany. And here I was considering buggering off across the Atlantic to start a new dream job.

  Was I going completely bat-shit loopy? I had everything I had ever wanted. Why was I determined to test it to the limits? Why did I want to push things? Was it because I was so sure he would leave me eventually that I was saving him the trouble?

  Ellie appeared at my door. “Ooh, you look like shit. Rough weekend?”

  I suddenly wanted to shout at her, but then I remembered she hadn’t actually done anything wrong and so I nodded. “You could say that.”

  She walked over to my desk and plonked herself down in the chair opposite me. “Want to talk about it?”

  A deflated, heavy sigh left my body. “I told Adam everything.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m guessing it didn’t go down that well after all, then.”

  “He thought I was pregnant, Ellie.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. “How the hell did he…”

  “Because I’ve been acting weird. Distant. He mistook it for hormones.”

  “Was he relieved when he found out that wasn’t it?”

  I shook my head, suddenly on the verge of tears. “No. He was devastated. Last Christmas all we talked about was having a family. This Christmas I announce I’m leaving for America.” I sniffed and fought back the tears as they balanced precariously on my lower lids.

  “Oh, shit, Lily. I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am.”

  “So… you are going, then? To America?”

  “I… think so. But… he doesn’t want to go.” And with that admission, a sob burst forth and the tears cascaded down my cheeks. Before I knew it I was being hugged by my friend as she shushed me and stroked my hair. All I wanted was a solution where both Adam and I could be happy. Where I wouldn’t have to sacrifice this dream to make sure that I kept him in my life. But I’d desperately wanted him in my life for so many years. That had been my dream. And now I had him, my heart was still in denial. I think I was still expecting it to fall apart. Maybe I was pushing it that way to save myself the hurt of it actually happening? I don’t know. But I just couldn’t see how the hell this situation could be solved so that we would both be happy. Was it even a possibility? It certainly didn’t feel like it. One of us was going to get hurt. And deep down, although I didn’t want to be the one hurting again, I didn’t want to hurt him either.

  I left work early and called in to see my mum. As soon as she opened the door, I crumpled into her arms and began to sob. She held me as she had when I was a child. Letting me pour my anguish out on her. Not judging. Not asking questions. Just letting me have a good cry.

  Eventually when it seemed I had no tears left, we sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea each. Bing Crosby sang about Christmas as we chatted and I told her about the new job opportunity I had been presented with.

  She smiled and nodded as I spoke; when I finished, she stayed silent. This wasn’t like her. And the fact that she was holding her tongue over something so huge frustrated me. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m making a huge mistake?”

  Her brow creased. “It hurts me to think that you would expect that of your mother.” Her Spanish accent tinged with the slightest hint of Scottish warmed my heart with familiarity.

  I huffed. “Well, say something at least.”

  She placed her mug down and took my hands in hers. “Darling, for so long you have dreamed of being the anchor for such a prestigious show. I know this. And so I am proud of you that you have achieved your dream.”

  Oh. Not what I expected. “Thank you. It is a massive achievement.”

  “Sí. It is. But the dream you had long before that has now faded?”

  “The dream I had before?” Deep down I knew what she was getting at but I chose to play dumb.

  “Sí. Adam. From so young, all you ever wanted was to be loved by him. Now that his eyes have been opened up to you, you are running scared.”

  I snorted in the most unladylike manner. “What? Mum, we’ve been together for four years. Why would I choose to run away
from our relationship now?”

  “Because now is the time you are out of the honeymoon. Now is the time when you know real life is happening. And it scares you. You think he is going to leave first and so you do it instead. You are trying to stop the hurt before it happens.”

  I hated that she had seen into my subconscious so clearly. And I hated that she was right. “Are you saying I shouldn’t go to America?”

  “Oh, Lily, querida niña, that’s not what I am saying at all. I just need you to think about this carefully. If America is where your heart is, then of course you should go. But if you are running scared, then perhaps this would be something you would come to regret? Sí?”

  She was right. Yet again. Great.

  Chapter 9

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas—Bing Crosby

  Adam

  The Christmas holidays came around quickly as usual. The final week was always filled with unofficial movie “lessons”, and I’d already formulated a reasonable, valid excuse as to how Elf and The Polar Express were relevant to S3 English in case the head teacher happened to walk in. Of course he never did, but it was better to be prepared. And being Head of English didn’t mean I was immune to a telling off if I was caught slacking.

  My classroom decorations had to be taken down prior to the last day, and as always I roped in some of the less obnoxious kids to help. The room was so bare when the red, green, and gold festoons were removed. And it was at this point every year that I realised how ready for a break I really was.

  On the last day of term I left school with arms full of gifts informing me that I was an “awesome teacher”, almost my own body weight in chocolate, and enough bottles of wine to make any lush happy. They must all think I’m a bloody alcoholic. Got to love those bloody annoying kids though.