Page 110 of I Was Always Yours (RCA: Royal Crown Academy)

“That’s okay, I’ll see them for New Year’s Eve.”

My mum gives me one final squeeze before flitting over to a group of people calling for her and giving them a similarly warm embrace.

Every year, my parents throw a massive holiday party on Christmas Day.This year is no different except that it’s the first time since we left for Hong Kong that we’re hosting it back in Hampshire. There are nearly three hundred people in attendance, close friends and business acquaintances of my parents come from far and wide for this event.

Servers carry trays of appetizers and champagne between rooms and out onto the heated terraces to the sound of cool Christmas jazz.

It’s usually one of my favorite days of the year.

I love the holiday season, the festivities, seeing my parents shine in their roles as the perfect hosts, all against a backdrop of comfort music and snowy landscapes.

But this year I’m having a hard time getting into the party. I wish I could say it’s because of anything other than Phoenix, but unfortunately, he’s been the only thing on my mind, invading and occupying my thoughts like he’s paying rent to live in my head.

I’m still rattled by how quickly things went left, although I’m not sure why I’m surprised.

I haven’t spoken to him in a week, not since I left him tied to that chair. When Bellamy and Rogue eventually found him a couple hours after I left, she told me that Rogue laughed so hard he had actual tears in his eyes.

Phoenix was still tied to the chair and irate, his jaw set and his fists clenched. He’d swung at Rogue when he’d uncuffed his first hand, then grabbed the chair and smashed it against the ground repeatedly, violently freeing his other hand before storming out.

I hadn’t dared ask for any other updates since, and he hadn’t texted.

Not that I thought he would.

Our last interaction had made it pretty clear that there was never going to be anything more between us, and I knew I’d done the right thing by walking away before I could get any more hurt.

That didn’t mean walking away itself didn’t hurt.

I’d spent the last week stewing, doing my best not to think about him and failing. My mood had been sullen and terse, and although I’d done my best to put on a brave face for my parents, I know they noticed.

I’d walked out of the shower earlier to find a large Dior box on my bed with a note from my mum:

A little something to bring the smile back to your face.

The note alone had done the trick, but I’d opened the box to find an exquisite black chiffon dress with reflective sparkles that looked like stars shining against a night sky. It fell to mid-thigh and had defined shoulders that added elegance to the look. I’d put it on, paired it with a dark red lipstick, soft curls, and strappy heels.

The mirror reflected how beautiful I looked, but I wished I had someone to share it with.

Someone who could appreciate the dress at the party before ripping it off me at the end of the night.

I know that at this party there are plenty of what my mum used to call ‘eligible young men’ before I got engaged and that I should try to move on, but the closest I’ve come to flirting tonight is with Walter, the sixty-year-old waiter who’s been bringing me champagne.

He was the lead waiter at our Christmas party three years ago and my mum liked him so much that she’s refused to work with anyone else for any party since, so I know him well.

He knows this type of heavy drinking is out of character for me.

I see him meandering through the room with a fresh tray and flag him down. He tips his chin at me, acknowledging my request, and makes his way over to me.

“Another?” He asks, handing me a flute.

“Yes and keep them coming.” I say, handing him my empty one which he places on the tray.

“How many have you had?”

I put up a hand, spreading all five fingers as I throw this one straight back, enjoying the burn in my throat. I place the empty glass on his tray and grab another.

“Alright, you’re cut off after this one.” He says, frowning at me.

“Buzzkill.” I pause, then laugh. “Haha, literally.”

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