Page 125 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“Well, then,” said Richard, as though that should be an end to it.
“Was it all a lie?” she asked. “Was your son even in hospital?”
“That part was true,” he said.
“Your poor wife,” said Kate.
She felt sick, imagining his wife sitting at home with the children while her husband was outon business. Kate recalled his hands on her body and shuddered. She didn’t suppose she was his only conquest; she wondered how he managed to keep them all separate.
“Don’tyouworry aboutmywife,” said Richard. “She has a nice life.”
“You make her sound like a free-range chicken!” Kate shouted.
Richard started to get up. Kate couldn’t believe him. Most of all she couldn’t understand how he was the one in the wrong and she was the one being made to feel awkward.
“Why go to all that trouble?” Kate asked. “All the seduction? The meals, the cozy drinks together. The texts! All that bullshit about being jealous of my other dates. Why?”
Richard brushed the snow off his jeans; under the streetlamp the wet denim showed darker than the rest. Kate stood and tried to get Richard to look her in the eye. She searched his face for an iota of remorse. There was none.
He pulled his jacket around him and looked down at her.
“The thrill of the chase, baby!” he said.
Kate laughed mirthlessly.
“Are you kidding me?” she said. “Who the hell do you think you are? A Wall Street trader from the eighties?”
He ran his hands through his hair and spat blood out onto the snow.
“I take it tonight’s off, then?” he said.
“You make me sick,” said Kate.
“Shame,” he said. “We would have been hot together.”
“Are you a sociopath?” Kate shouted. “Do you not feel any remorse at all?”
“Grow up, Kate,” said Richard. “You think this little chocolate-box town is the real world? I’m out day after day, closing deals, making the kind of money you could only dream of...”
“Don’t patronize me,” said Kate. “Your business prowess has nothing to do with you being a lying arsehole! And cheating on your wife does not make you a grown-up. You used me.”
“I didn’t use you,” said Richard. “You were a willing participant. You wanted it as much as I did.”
“Not anymore,” said Kate.
She turned and walked away. Richard didn’t follow. Kate was relieved. She didn’t want any more of a scene than they’d alreadycreated. If he did follow her,shewas likely to punch him in the face as well. She felt dirty. Angry tears pricked at her eyes. “Idiot,” she said to herself.
She marched through the copse, untouched by its nighttime beauty. She didn’t see the little lights hanging in the trees. The secret Christmas wonderland was lost on her tonight. Creatures of the dark scurried out of reach of her stomping boots as she tore through the thicket.
It wasn’t snowing, but the sky was full. The white paths glittered in the light of the cold round moon. Kate wanted to scrub herself. She wanted to find Richard’s wife and tell her what kind of a man she was married to. She wanted to go back and find him and pummel him with her fists.
She was still livid as she turned into her street. As she marched toward her house she saw something move. Kate looked up. Laura was standing by her gate. Laura saw her and held up two family-sized bars of chocolate.
“Someone rang me and told me you might be in need,” said Laura as Kate reached her.
“Who?” Kate asked.
“Who do you think?” said Laura. She turned slightly to the side and pushed her hip out. A bottle of wine protruded out of her deep duffle coat pocket. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s crack this bad boy open and you can tell me all about Dick!”
