by Izzy Bayliss
“No, Lily, that’s not what I want. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to have children with you.”
“And I want that too –”
“Well, then why won’t you marry me?”
“I don’t know,” I said in a small voice. “I was married before, Sam, I’m just not able to even think about doing that again. It brings back too many painful memories – I just can’t go there, I’m sorry.”
“You see that’s exactly the problem here. I’ve been in denial about it ever since I met you, but I need to face it, you’re not over Marc.”
“Yes, I am!”
“I think I’ve always known it, I got you on the rebound, but I had hoped that as time went on that his hold over you would lessen, you know?”
Suddenly, I felt panicked. “I am not in love with Marc, Sam, you have to believe me!”
“But how can I when all your actions tell me otherwise?”
“That’s not fair!”
He stood up off the sofa. “I need space, Lily.”
I was left reeling. I knew we were in trouble, but I never imagined it was this bad.
“Sam, please – I think that’s a step too far. I want to be with you, and yes, I’m not ready for marriage just yet, but I’m sure I will be, I just need time –”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this to myself anymore. It’s over.” Then he turned and walked away from me.
CHAPTER 28
“What is it? What’s going on?” Frankie said as she opened the door to me. She was wearing pyjamas with antlers on the shoulders that looked really uncomfortable for sleeping in, and her thick, wiry hair stood up wildly around her head.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” I said in a small voice.
She eyed up my tear-stained face and the suitcase by my feet. “It’s Christmas Eve! The only person I was expecting tonight was Santa. You’d better come in, what’s happened?”
I went through to her living room and plonked myself wearily down on the sofa.
“It’s over,” I sobbed.
Her eyebrows shot up and her face read shocked. “What do you mean? You and Sam?”
I nodded.
“Jesus, Lily, what the fuck happened?”
“He kept talking about the wedding, he wanted to set a date, but I just came out in a cold sweat every time we spoke about it.”
“So you told him you weren’t ready then?” she probed gently.
I nodded. “I couldn’t hide it from him anymore.”
“And he wanted to break up with you? Isn’t that a bit unfair?”
“He said I’m not over Marc yet and that he’s fed up of living in his shadow. I tried telling him that I’ve no feelings left for him, but he wouldn’t believe me.”
“I’m so sorry, Lily. I don’t know what to say to you. As shocking as it was when you and Marc broke up, I totally thought you and Sam would be together forever. He loves you! Do you think he has a point about you not being ready to marry him?”
“I love him, Frankie, I really do, but I’m just not ready to rush into another marriage. I tried to make him understand that it’s not that I’m not in love with him and I think one day I will be ready to marry him . . .”
“But not now –”
I flopped back against the cushions and exhaled heavily.
“Maybe you need some space to get your head around what it is that you do want?” Frankie suggested.
“I know what I want, Frankie! I want him!” I wailed.
“Then you need to tell him that!”
“I have but he won’t listen. He has such a hang-up about Marc; he thinks he got me on the rebound.”
“He has a point –”
I sat up straight. “Sam is worth ten of Marc.”
“He is, so what’s the problem then?” Frankie said evenly.
I lowered my voice to whisper. “I can’t build myself up for all of that again; the excitement, the hopes and dreams, and then if something went wrong . . . To have the whole fuss and for what? To be left red-faced three months later because your new husband does a runner with an actress? I couldn’t go through all of that again. Even just thinking about it makes me sweat. I don’t see why we can’t just stay as we are? We’re going along just fine – we’re in love – why do we have to jeopardise what we have?”
“It doesn’t always have to go wrong, Lily,” she said softly. “What happened with Marc was very bad luck.”
“This is me we’re talking about here – if it can go wrong, it will go wrong.”
“Oh, Lily,” she sighed, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
CHAPTER 29
That night Frankie tucked me up in the bedroom with the wildly clashing pink and orange walls once again. I hated this room and all that it represented. It was the same bed I had stayed in after I had walked in on Marc with Nadia. I couldn’t believe I was back here again, except this time I was worse off because I didn’t even have my home in Ballyrobin to go back to. There were tenants in it now. I texted Sam to say that I loved him no matter what he thought, and I kept checking my phone for the rest of the night to see if he had replied to me, but there was nothing back from him. He wasn’t one for petty squabbles or holding grudges, so I knew that this was it, he was done with me.
I was already awake when I saw the morning light creeping around the edges of the blind the next morning. It was Christmas Day, my favourite day of the year, but I couldn’t feel any less in the mood for Christmas if I tried. Tears came into my eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be this year; when Sam had surprised me by coming home, I had imagined us spending Christmas morning snuggling in bed together, exchanging gifts, and maybe even returning to bed afterwards. I had visions of lazy days of lounging around together, stuffing our faces with food and trying to burn it off with long walks in the chilly December air. I had pictured steaming mugs of hot chocolate, tender kisses under the mistletoe, and catching up with everyone at Sam’s parents’ annual Christmas night bash. It was supposed to be romantic and beautiful and not end up with me staying in Frankie’s room of heartbreak.
I reached for my phone to check in case he had had a change of heart and had called me, but there was nothing. I dialled his number again, but he didn’t pick up. Instead, I heard his voicemail greeting in that gorgeous husky tone. I physically ached to wake up beside him where he would take me into his arms and I would lay my head against the solidness of his chest.
I climbed out of bed eventually and dragged myself into the shower.
“Happy Christmas,” Frankie said when I made an appearance in the kitchen.
I grunted.
“How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Do you want a fry?” she asked as she took sausages and bacon out of the fridge.
“I couldn’t stomach food right now.” I felt sick as I thought back over the day before. The hurt on Sam’s face would stay with me forever. I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I just can’t believe this has happened!” I was still reeling from the shock at how my whole world had come crashing down around me in the last twenty-four hours. “I mean, it’s not like I have any feelings left for Marc!” I sighed and slumped down in the seat.
“I know that, but does Sam? Look, he might have calmed down since last night, so why don’t you call him now? Tell him that you love him but you just need time, he’ll understand –”
“He’s not answering my calls – I really think this is it for us.”
“I’m sorry, Lily, I really am.”
When I had finally summoned up the courage, I called Dad to ask him to tell Clara that Sam and I wouldn’t be joining them for Christmas dinner like we had planned. I couldn’t face calling her myself. Plus, I didn’t want to sit across the table from her and watch her play happy families with Tom even though she was plotting and scheming behind his back about how to take him to the cleaners. I think that might have sent me over the edge completely.
“Sam and I broke up.”
I heard something drop in the background with a clatter. “Ah, Lily, what happened?”
“He thinks that because I’m not ready to marry him that I’m not over Marc.”
“And do you think he has a point?”
“No, Dad, I love him, I know I do . . . I’m just scared about marriage.”
“Well, did you tell him that?”
“He just doesn’t get it.”
“Give him time, Lily, he’ll come round.”
“I don’t think he will.” I broke down then and began to sob.
“It’ll all work out, Lily, these things always do. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”
I sat on the chair with tears spilling down my face. I couldn’t be without Sam, I just couldn’t.
CHAPTER 30
It had been a horrible Christmas. I spent the day itself alone in Frankie’s place. She had tried to persuade me to join her family, and Dad tried his best to coax me into going to Clara’s with him even just for an hour, but I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t face anyone. I had tried repeatedly to get in touch with Sam, but he still wouldn’t return my calls or messages.
Every time I thought about him my heart ached. Why did it have to be so hard? Why could I never seem to find true love the way you saw it in the movies or the way my mum and dad were? Maybe I was an old-fashioned romantic, maybe it just didn’t happen that way anymore these days.
Even though he had asked me not to contact him, I had called over to his apartment anyway hoping that the space of being apart for a few days over Christmas would have given him time to calm down. I hoped that he might be willing to talk to me at least but he had been out at the time. In the end, I had left him a note telling him that I loved him and that I didn’t want him to go back to New York on these terms. I knew that once he was on the other side of the Atlantic it would be impossible to get things back on track between us again. I asked if he would meet me just to talk before he went back, but he never called. I was distraught at the thought of him flying back there without having had the chance to talk face-to-face first.
The days went past until it was finally time to re-open Baked with Love after the Christmas break. I was never so glad to see the back of Christmas. When the day had broken, I decided to head in early. I knew that moping around, feeling sorry for myself was not going to help me. There were myriad things I could be doing there to get myself back open and hopefully take my mind off the mess that was my love life.
I put my key in the lock and pushed the door. Even the sound of my little bell failed to put a smile on my face like it usually would. The Christmas decorations, so colourful and jubilant in the days before Christmas, now seemed to be mocking me. When I had last been in here, I had had excitement fizzing inside my tummy at the thoughts of cosying up with Sam over the holidays. Even though it wasn’t yet the New Year, I started to pull them all down. I just wanted Christmas to be over.
By the time Dad came in, I was already way ahead of where I would usually be.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, gesturing to the walls that now seemed so stark and bare and somehow even more depressing than before.
“The sooner the silly season is over the better.”
“Now come on, Lily, don’t be a misery guts – you love Christmas. I’ll make us a cuppa, you go sit down.” Dad put a pot of tea down on the table followed by a generous slice of carrot cake. “Get that into you,” he said, sliding the plate towards me.
“I can’t, Dad.” The smell of the nutmeg made me want to gag. My stomach just wasn’t able for food. The only upside to this heartache was that my appetite had well and truly vanished.
“Did you get to talk to Sam before he went back?”
I shook my head. “He left yesterday.”
“Lily, I’m so sorry,” Dad said. “Give him time, maybe a little bit of headspace will help him to come round.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The truth was I had already given him space, I didn’t see how anymore could help.
At nine o’clock we both hooked our aprons over our necks and got ready to welcome the day’s customers. It was a painfully quiet day. The streets beyond the bottle glass windows were empty. Most of the nearby offices wouldn’t be reopening until January. As the day went on, a few lonely souls trickled through the door; I guessed these were the ones who had drawn the short straw and been picked to work over Christmas. Most other people were at home spending time with loved ones, which is what you should be doing over Christmas, I thought sadly.
After lunch, the bell tinkled and I saw Clara come in with the boys.
“Lily, Dad!” she said brightly. I noticed she had had her hair done and was immaculately dressed in a silk blouse tucked into skinny leg trousers. She didn’t look like a woman nursing a broken heart. “God this place is empty,” she said, looking around her and shaking her head.
“Well, a lot of people are still off work –” I said a touch defensively.
“So did you and Sam sort things out?” she asked when the boys were seated on the sofa with hot chocolates. Dad had told her everything that had happened on Christmas day.
I shook my head. “He’s already back in New York.”
“All men are bastards, sheer and utter bastards!” she hissed. Cursing was so uncharacteristic for her that I almost laughed. I didn’t want to upset her by telling her that Sam wasn’t a bastard, in fact he was a really good guy; we just had a difference that neither of us seemed able to bridge.
“Us McDermott ladies will stick together,” she continued. “Tom and Sam will be sorry when we’re finished with them!” She wagged her finger.
I saw Dad raise his eyebrows at her. “So, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Oh, just taking a little detour from a reconnaissance mission.”
“You were following him?” he said aghast.
“Of course, Dad. I can’t be naïve about this. I need to build up a case. I didn’t spend years studying to be a lawyer for nothing – I knew my training would come in handy one day.”
“So where is he gone?” I asked.
“Well, he said he was going into the office for a couple of hours.”
“And?” I said wide-eyed to see what she had found.
“Well, he’s in the office . . . but I know it’s a ruse.”
“Was there anyone else with him?” If he was having an affair with a work colleague, the quiet office during the Christmas break might be the perfect meeting place.
She shook her head. “His was the only car in the car park, but who’s to say she didn’t come on foot?”
“Or who’s to say that he isn’t actually doing work?” Dad said, playing devil’s advocate. None of this sat easy with him. We both still found it hard to believe that Tom was conducting an affair, but Clara had found the underwear in her bed after all and they didn’t get there innocently.
“Whose side are you on?” she asked, looking at both of us through narrowed eyes.
“We’re on your side of course,” Dad cajoled, “but I still think you need to give the man a fair hearing. There might be a perfectly good explanation for all of this.”
“Dad, please, if you’re going to suggest I’m confusing the knickers with part of the Christmas garlands again then don’t –”
Dad started to blush at Clara’s use of the word knickers.
“My colour scheme is white and silver this year anyway,” she continued.
“So did you find any more proof yet?” I said. The last time I had spoken to her she had found the offshore bank account, but she had been digging so much, who knew what else she had uncovered.
“Well, no . . . but do you know what he got me for Christmas?”
“What?”
“A gym membership!”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Dad asked.
�
��He’s trying to tell me to lose weight – the cheeky bastard! He could do with losing a few pounds himself!”
For a woman hitting forty, Clara was in excellent shape and Tom was always complimenting her on her figure, so I really doubted he meant anything sinister by it. Suddenly, I found myself feeling sorry for Tom. “He probably didn’t mean you to take offence to it; he knows you like taking care of yourself.”
“Ha!” she spat. “Oh yes, I’m taking care of myself all right,” she said with a wild glint in her eyes.
“But have you noticed him sneaking off anywhere over the break to meet her?” I said.
She shook her head. “It’s the Christmas holidays, so he knows I would ask questions if he said he was going somewhere. He is being extra careful. He’s clever but he will slip up, and when the bastard does, I’ll be there to catch him out.”
Suddenly I felt exhausted, Clara was so conniving and scheming that I found it wearisome. Instead of feeling galvanised by our similar experiences, I just felt worn out. How did she have the energy to play games with him? Why didn’t she just talk to him like a normal person?
“I don’t know, Clara, I don’t have a good feeling about all of this cloak-and-dagger stuff,” Dad warned.
“Just because I’m not a pushover like you two – honestly, I do wonder sometimes how we are related.”
“Just be careful,” he continued.
She swung around in a huff and shouted down to the boys, “Come on, Jacob and Joshua, it’s time to go now.”
CHAPTER 31
January arrived in an unforgiving blast of cold. I had rung in the New Year on my own. Frankie had tried to drag me out with her but I couldn’t face it, so I had taken a plate of all my favourite cakes (Heavenly Orange slathered in cream cheese icing, lemon curd tart made with the butteriest shortcrust pastry, and my Baileys white chocolate cake) and a big mug of tea to bed with me. But when I took a bite, I couldn’t enjoy them, I felt queasy and miserable. There was no joy in my life without Sam. I used to love New Year’s Eve, full of hope and optimism for all that lay ahead. Out with the old and in with the new and all that. That’s why I had chosen it as the day I married Marc. This year would have been our third wedding anniversary and I despised the day ever since.