Page 6 of One More Gift

Saskia

In the doorway wherehe once carried me over the threshold, Casper slides one fingertip into the spot where my top crosses into a v-shape at my cleavage. He pulls it towards him and takes a brazen peek.

“Maroon,” he says with a wicked smile. “That's fucking hot.”

I yank his hand away and plaster my back to the wall. “It’s new.”

Henry hangs back on the other side of the living room, and for some reason, I really need him to know this. To know I made a special effort for him. I haven’t thrown on old underwear someone else has already seen and enjoyed.

“So I see. I wouldn’t forget your tits in a bra like that.”

Casper laughs, and I bite back a smile. He has always been a relentless flirt. It’s what drew me to him in the first place. It’s impossible to pretend it doesn’t affect me anymore, even though right now I want to scream at him for being the biggest cockblock on the planet. Turning up just as Henry and I were about to get, shall we say, reacquainted, was not part of my elaborately crafted plan for Christmas.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I thought you would be in London for the holidays. It seems I was mistaken.” He gestures out to the driveway where three cars are now lined up. “And it looks like you have company?”

“I’m sure I told you I’d be here, Casper. And Henry just arrived from New York,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder. “We’re staying here until the new year.”

“Oh.” His tone is curt, and I can’t get a proper read on his reaction in the dim light of the doorway. “How festive.”

He shrugs out of his coat, hanging it on top of mine like he owns the place, which I guess he technically does. Well, half owns.

With me.

His soon to be ex-wife.

“Henry, my buddy,” he booms, stepping into the room.

“Shoes off the carpet,” I yell, and he does his best impression of a naughty schoolboy, quickly tip-toeing back to slip out of his Italian leather brogues.

“Come here, big man, it’s good to see you.”

Casper and Henry do that weird bro-hug thing, where they each have one arm around the waist and the other above the shoulder. It always makes me think they’re about to wrestle, which, given the circumstances of us all being in the same room again, is not outside the realm of possibility.

Casper is a stark contrast to Henry’s casual vibe, but handsome as always, in his trademark black jeans and black t-shirt. He’s definitely not dressed for winter in rural Hertfordshire, which is no surprise given I thought he was spending Christmas with his family.

“Good to see you too, Casper,” Henry says. He steps back, hands plunging into his pockets as his eyes find mine across the room.

The timing could not be worse. My underwear is soaked from the anticipation of the man I’ve wanted for years, finally touching me again. Tonight was supposed to be the start of… well, I don’t know what exactly, but a new beginning for the two of us.

Casper flops down in the middle of the sofa, leaning forward to pick up my glass of wine. He brings it to his nose and inhales deeply.

“This is French,” he scoffs, setting it back down.

“Don’t be such a snob,” I say from where I’m still frozen to the spot by the doorway. “I thought you were in Italy?”

“I had a last-minute meeting with a buyer in Mayfair. He wants to commission six pieces for his new penthouse. I figured this place would be empty.”

“You couldn’t find a hotel?”

“Of course I could,” he laughs, stretching his arms out across the back of the sofa cushions. “But this place has such happy memories for me. For us, my angel. I wanted to visit one last time.”

He turns to look at Henry and even from where I stand behind him, I can tell he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Henry looks as confused as I am, swaying slightly on the spot, unsure whether to sit, stand, or leave.

I really don’t want him to leave, and I’m not about to let our precious time together be ruined by some pathetic pissing contest because my husband has a jealous streak.

Ex-husband!

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