Page 52 of Don't Bite the Boy Next Door
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I lay on the bed and take a deep breath, all cried out. It’s Christmas Day, and I am alone for the first time in as long as I can remember in a house that no longer feels like home, since it’s not mine any longer.
Not a single Christmas decoration adorns my home, the fire remains unlit, no tree crowds my lounge, no wreath on my door, no presents, or stockings, or elves on shelves. Nothing.
It is as though the house is as empty of colour and joy as my heart is right now. Any hope I might have had of it all being a big misunderstanding had disappeared these past few days, as a blizzard raged outside, and I raged inside.
I’m calm now and accepting of what is going to happen, although my heart is breaking at the thought of never seeing Ryan again, and the tears still come intermittently.
Holding my piglet close, I whisper to him everything that has unfolded, and it seems to me he understands, as he snuffles close and grunts.
“But never you mind, we will find just as nice a farm somewhere else,” I muse, giving him a peck on his wet little nose.
‘Where I’m not pining for a neighbour who will never return my love.’
“The only problem will be catching all Buffy’s babies. They’ve gone a little feral while I’ve been away, haven’t they?”
Orson doesn’t answer, but I rise and, sniffing, make my way to my wardrobe, where I think I will probably start the nightmare of packing. The majority of the furniture and larger items will be packed and loaded by the removalists tomorrow.
I have my head in the wardrobe when I hear a loud engine noise, so loud, it reverberates through the house, making the windows rattle.
Walking to my bedroom window, I look out to the front yard, buried at least two feet thick in snow, as a big red snowplough makes its way ponderously down the drive.
“You don’t waste any time,” I murmur, as I stand at the door and study him where he stands in his Grumpy jumper and jeans.
“Tess, I would have come earlier, but the blizzard…”
“Earlier?” I frown, “I couldn’t very well move out on Christmas Day, Ryan.”
He stares at me and lets out a deep, long breath.
“Can I come in, please?”
I shake my head.
“Tess, please.”
“The house is not officially yours until tomorrow. Whatever you’ve come to say, I don’t need to hear it. I know I was part of a deal, a deal to get your land back. I understand. This is how the world works, after all,” I shrug, “no hard feelings, Ryan.”
“Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow and turning to sit down on the porch balustrade, before facing me again, “none?”
“No,” I croak, clearing my throat.
“I have some,” he says gently.
I sigh and lean my head against the doorframe.
“I don’t think it will matter how many times I tell you, Ryan, I’m sorry for turning you into what you are. But I hope one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me, and that having your family home, and your mother back in your life, may help assuage some of the hurt you have faced in your life.”
“I’m sure it will,” he says gently, “but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what?” I press my hands to my eyes momentarily, feeling a headache coming on.
“Tess, I do want my farm back, all of it. But I only needed one night in my house without you to know that it wouldn’t be worth anything to me without you in it too.”
“What do you mean?” I groan, “you never wanted me in your house. You went out of your way to pretend we never kissed – I could see how much you regretted it.”
“Tess.” he rises and walks to where I stand, remaining at arms-length, “I never regretted it. I fought the desire to kiss you ever since I met you. God, Tess, don’t you see – it was never a case of not wanting you, it was a case of trying not to want you so hard, it hurt.”
