What a day.
Mum has already texted me back, telling me she hopes I feel better soon. Nate has texted me, too, to say he’s sorry again—but it’s not me he should be telling—and Dad has asked that I go easy on my brother... It’s Christmas after all.
Go easy? Like hell. And I’m angry at him too. Angry because he should have seen the truth. He should have sided with Lucas and made Nate take responsibility for his actions.
What? Like you did when the fight broke out?
I squeeze my eyes tight against the memory. I hardly sided with Lucas. In fact I tried to kick them both out. The heat of the moment and divided loyalties made it impossible to think straight. Maybe it was similar for Dad.
But Lucas did no wrong. In either case.
I drop into my chair and take up my mobile. It’s time I called him—screw my nerves... I need him, and I need to apologise.
I dial his number and he picks up in two rings.
‘Evangeline.’
His voice is gruff, as if he’s been drinking, and my heart squeezes in my chest. ‘Hi...’ I swallow past the wedge forming in my throat. ‘I’m sorry I kicked you out.’
His breath shudders down the phone. ‘I guess I can’t blame you after that showdown.’
‘No... Dad arrived after you left.’
‘He did?’
‘Yeah...’ I trail off, working out how to phrase what I want to ask and realise I just need to come out with it. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Nate asked you to plough your own money into the business?’
‘He brought that up, did he?’
‘You could have told me.’
‘It doesn’t really change anything.’
‘It does to Nate.’
‘You sound like you agree with him.’
‘No!’ I rush out, hating his defensive tone.
‘Look, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t trust him not to lose it again. Every time something happened he’d always throw your family’s investment at me—tell me I’d be nowhere without them. He was so quick to lay that on me, so quick to remind me that I’m an outsider, not one of you. Let’s face it, I was never going to be free of that guilt trip. I knew I’d always be beholden no matter what happened.’
‘You don’t need to defend yourself to me, Lucas. I get it.’
And I do—my heart swells for him and all he’s been through. All he went through today too—for which I’m partly to blame.
‘How’s your hand?’
He gives a hoarse laugh. ‘I can land a punch just fine. More importantly, how’s your face?’
I can hear his concern and it makes me want to cry. Tears burn the back of my throat. I wish he was here with me. I should’ve driven to his place rather than hidden like this.
‘Eva?’
‘It’s fine—or it will be soon enough.’
‘You shouldn’t have got involved. When you went down like that—’
He breaks off, his breath shuddering once more.
‘Well, next time I promise to stay well clear—you’re on your own.’
I’m trying to make light of it, lift the mood, but he’s quiet. His silence is unsettling, and I can feel his hatred towards Nate all the way down the line.
‘Look, he wasn’t seeing straight,’ I say. ‘Catching us like that had him completely knocked for six.’
‘You’re making excuses for him again?’
‘In this case it’s justified. But as far as business goes, and the past, he’s on his own—no more cleaning up after him.’
‘Good.’
The line goes quiet again. The question burning to get out: Does he still want there to be an ‘us’? But I’m scared. It doesn’t matter that he has hinted strongly at a future—that was before the showdown with my brother, before I fell apart in front of them both.
‘Lucas?’ I say.
‘Eva?’ he says at the same time.
Hope sparks within me. ‘You go first.’
‘I want to amend our agreement.’
His words are clear as day, businesslike, and I struggle to shift gear, from personal to professional.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You want your family out of your company, yes?’
‘You know I do.’
‘Well, that works for me too, clearly.’
‘My intention is to buy them out as soon as my sales revenue is big enough. It shouldn’t take—’
‘I want to give you the money now. So you can do it upfront.’
I shake my head. ‘Look if you’re worried about them interfering, they wouldn’t dare.’
‘What? Like your brother just didn’t dare?’
Before I can speak he carries on.
‘I’m not taking any chances.’
I hesitate. ‘Okay...’
‘But I want something in return.’
So many things stream through my mind, and hope is rising with every one.
I want us. I want you. I want you to tell your family we’re together, that there’s no getting between us.
‘What is it that you want?’
‘I want in.’
I frown, a cold tremor running down my spine as I straighten. ‘You want in?’
‘The twenty-five per cent share they currently have—I want it. We can come up with a gradual repayment of the shares over time—say a couple of years, which I imagine isn’t too dissimilar to your current plan—but...’
‘Back up, Lucas.’ I struggle to draw breath, disappointment making my lungs contract. I can’t believe what he’s saying. What he’s focusing on. ‘Are you telling me you want me to replace my family with you?’
‘If you want to look at it that way, then, yes. I don’t want them anywhere near our arrangement going forward.’
It’s all about revenge.
That’s what they said and I didn’t believe it. But then why was he so determined to push them out? Why insist on their share? Unless there’s some truth to it?
And what about all I had told him about making it my own? Being beholden to no one. Did he not care about any of that? Him of all people...
‘You told me this wasn’t about revenge...you told me this was about wanting my product.’
‘And it is, Eva.’
‘Then why ask for a share? Why make me choose between my family and you?’
‘Don’t you see? I’m trying to avoid exactly that. There’s no need for personal attachment on the surface. Your family can’t resent you for making a sound business decision, and what goes on behind closed doors is our business.’
This just gets worse. Does he really want to dismiss us as some kind of fling? A dirty little secret?
‘Oh, my God, Lucas—you really think that’s the solution?’
‘I don’t know, Eva. I just know I can’t face seeing you hurt like you were today.’
‘There are other ways.’
‘Name one?’
Being honest and open about our relationship, our love.
But what if it isn’t love for him? What if after all he has said he doesn’t feel the same way?
I can’t bring myself to ask. I can’t be that eighteen-year-old, wearing her heart on her sleeve again only to have it thrown back in her face.
Instead I ask a question just as revealing. ‘So tell me, Lucas, if I say no are you taking your offer off the table?’
Silence.
‘Lucas?’
‘Yes, Eva.’ He sounds resigned. ‘If you don’t let me buy in, the offer is off the table.’
My ears ring, disbelief coursing wildly through my blood. I feel trapped, backed into a corner by the man I love with all my heart.
Scrap not wanting to be my eighteen-year-old self. I am her. Humiliated and rejected in one fell swoop. Even worse, I feel mani
pulated, controlled—by him.
I look at the family photo that sits on my desk, the similarities between him and them as unbelievable as they are unbearable. And I laugh, the sound high-pitched and alien.
Well, no more. I won’t be controlled or manipulated by either of them. Yes, Rosalie might have been referred by Nate and my father, but she can give me what I need.
Without this.
Without the heartache.
My chest pangs painfully and I grip the phone tighter. ‘In that case you can shove your offer, Lucas.’
‘Eva, don’t be ridiculous.’
I can hear his shock and it gives me the strength I need to hold my ground. There’ll be time for tears later.
‘There’s no need to fly off the handle,’ he says.
‘If you really believe that then you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said over the past couple of weeks.’
‘Seriously, Eva, don’t do this. Take the offer...at least think about it.’
‘I don’t need to think about anything, Lucas. It’s over. All of it. Over.’
I cut the line dead, my entire being thrumming.
I’m alone. Truly alone.
And now I let the tears fall.
Ten years and I’m still no wiser.
I only have myself to blame.
Give over, Eva, you are wiser!
The old me would have rolled over and taken what Lucas offered. I can at least be proud that I took control—of both him and my family. I held my ground and my product will have a home with Rosalie.
So why do I feel as if I’ve lost everything?
* * *
I stare at the phone as if it’s magically going to start ringing again, and when it doesn’t I don’t know what to do.
I want to ring her back. Hell, I want to drive straight over and make her see sense.
Working together gives us a way through this. A way that doesn’t make it personal.
But it is personal. You love her. You let Nate come between you ten years ago and now you’ve let him do the same again. You fool.
I toss the phone aside and reach for the bottle.
One more.
One more to numb this.
One more to make me think clearly.
I watch the liquid slosh into the glass and know I don’t need to think any more clearly.
Because I love her, I can’t take her from her family. For all I said I’d make her choose, when it came to it in that room I realised I couldn’t.
My gut turns over. I lost her before, but back then I’d never really had her.
Now I have...
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I’M OUT IN the garden, avoiding them, and they know it. But, hell, it’s Christmas Day, my favourite day of the year. I’m supposed to be happy and instead sadness hangs around me like an aura.
I only have to walk into a room and everyone else catches it. Even my mother’s usual festive beam is dialled down.
Granted, the fact that Nate and I still aren’t speaking doesn’t help. But Mum knows the true extent of my sadness. She guessed it for the most part—my age-old feelings for Lucas were obvious to her astute gaze, and the second she probed it all came rushing out, a week of keeping it to myself proving too much.
And I think she’s told Dad. I can see it in the way he looks at me. But he hasn’t said a word to acknowledge it. It’s driving me crazy, but I don’t feel strong enough to have it out with him. I feel broken. Torn in two. And to what end?
It’s not as if Lucas loved me back.
There’s a whimper at my feet and I look down to see my parents’ Golden Lab, Frodo, staring up at me, his ears back.
‘I know, kiddo. Sucks, doesn’t it?’
I tickle his head and look out across the lawn. It’s pretty out here. It’s nearly lunchtime and the frost hasn’t lifted so everywhere is crisp and white. Almost as festive as snow itself.
I breathe in fresh air and let it seep out in a puff of white. I’ll have to go back in soon. I can’t avoid them for ever.
‘Eva?’
I turn. Mum’s hanging out of the kitchen doorway.
‘Could you give me a hand with the potatoes, love?’
I give a soft sigh and whisper, ‘Time’s up, Frodo.’ Then I call back, ‘Sure!’ and start towards her, Frodo trotting in step beside me.
The festive favourite ‘White Christmas’ leaks through the gap she leaves in the door and my heart squeezes.
You’ve only yourself to blame, giving your heart away a second time.
‘I thought Nate was on potato duty?’ I say as I enter the kitchen and strip off my coat.
She’s pulling the turkey out of the oven. Its scent fills the room, warm and inviting. But still my insides fail to smile.
‘I’ve sent him to talk with your father.’
‘Talk?’ I pull open the larder door and root around for the potatoes. ‘Sounds ominous.’
‘They need their heads knocking together. I’ve simply led the way.’
‘Mum, what have you said?’
‘Only what needed saying.’
‘Which is...?’
‘Never mind that—you just focus on those potatoes and leave their foolishness to me.’
She’s basting the turkey, her manner brooking no argument. Not that I have the energy for one.
‘And smile, please, Eva. It’s Christmas and I have faith that all will be well again soon.’
I lug the heavy sack of spuds on to the side and swing the larder door shut, wishing I had her confidence. But then she isn’t the one with the broken heart.
‘Right, how many do you need?’
Mum goes about giving instructions and I do as she asks, my smile forced and firmly planted. I even start to sing with her. Nothing like a good Christmas tune to get you in the mood.
Not that I am—not at all.
But I’m trying. I really am.
‘I think you’ve peeled more than enough, love.’
‘Huh?’ I look at her and see her frown, full of concern. I look back to the peeled potatoes, far in excess of the twenty she requested. Oh, dear.
‘You always tell me it’s better to have too many than too few,’ I force out jovially. ‘And there’s always bubble and squeak tomorrow, right?’
‘True.’ She gives me a smile that I know says It’ll be okay and goes back to her turkey.
I go back to peeling the spuds. And then stop. No more potatoes.
If only I could stop loving Lucas as easy.
But if ten years without him didn’t work, why will the future be any different?
* * *
Dusk is settling as I pull up outside the house I once called home. It’s set back from the road, its private drive bordered by trees and old-fashioned lamps, their soft glow lighting up the well-maintained garden. Well-maintained and just the same as it was the last time I was here...
Five years ago.
The night I realised I was no longer welcome.
And yet you’re here now.
I drop my eyes to the steering wheel, to my knuckles that are white as I grip it tight. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. It’s Christmas. A day for families. A day for the Beaumonts. Not me, the outsider.
My eyes drift to the house, to the bedroom window top right—Eva’s room. As if by magic her light comes on. I can vaguely make out someone moving around and then the curtains are drawn and a silhouette remains—Eva?
I’m no longer thinking. I’m getting out of the car and walking up the drive, my eyes fixed on that shadow, my body following my heart.
It’s time I gave her the choice.
Time I wore my heart on my sleeve and took a chance.
I can feel no worse than I do already. Because I am nothing without her. Life has no meaning without
her in it.
I need her to know that. I need her to know it’s not her product, it’s not her family, it’s her that I want, that I love.
What the Beaumonts do with that is up to them.
I only care what Eva does.
* * *
I sit next to Nate, and Mum and Dad sit across from us. The table is fit to burst, with elaborate candelabra stuffed with holly, baubles, berries and pinecones—I spent several distracted hours making them—and a feast that could feed the entire village.
But no one is eating. No one is speaking.
If not for Frodo’s intermittent whine for food and the gentle hum of Christmas carols playing it would be as quiet as a morgue.
I look to Mum, to the concern bright in her eyes, and guilt swamps me. I try for a smile. ‘This looks lovely. Thanks, Mum.’
She doesn’t seem to hear me. Instead she looks to Nate, and then to my father.
‘Right, you two—out with it. I’m not having Eva force herself to get through dinner without hearing from you first.’
Dad looks at Nate, and I sense my brother shift in his seat.
‘I’ve said I’m sorry...to her...to Dad...’
‘And...?’ Mum presses.
‘And I will apologise to Lucas too. I am sorry for what I did. I just assumed he’d be okay. I mean...he’s Lucas. He was always okay.’
He shrugs awkwardly, his smile filled with remorse as he looks to me for forgiveness.
‘I need you to understand that, sis. I was hurt when he wouldn’t help me, and I lashed out. I lied, and I’m sorry... I guess I was always a little envious of how good he was at everything, and too selfish to care about the consequences.’
I hear what he’s saying, and I can read that he means it too, and my heart lifts a little. But it doesn’t change how things have worked out. It doesn’t change how Lucas feels for me.
‘And you, David?’ My mother turns to my father. ‘What do you have to say?’
He clears his throat. ‘I’ll go with Nate. I’ll make sure Lucas realises that we were in the wrong, and that you shouldn’t be tainted by this, Eva. If you want to work with him—’
Mum elbows him none too subtly in the ribs and he clears his throat again.
‘If you want to be with him, then you have our blessing.’
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