Page 105 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“Was it tough?” he ventured.
“I was lucky, I was placed with nice foster families. When the system works, it works brilliantly. And then when I was eight, I went to live with Sue and Gil, and they fostered me until I left for university. It was like being part of a regular family, really, except ours had a lot of moving parts. Some kids stayed for a few months, somea few years. Some, like Pete, were respite kids. That’s how we met. He started coming to stay with Sue and Gil when we were ten; he’d stay for a few weeks and then go back to his mum.”
“How come?”
“Pete’s mum suffered with depression. Sometimes her depression got really dark and when that happened, Pete would come and stay with us until his mum was well again. She was a lovely person, but her wiring was messed up. He was in and out of my life like a kind of cousin, really.”
“A kissing cousin,” said James dryly.
She laughed. “Our shared experiences meant that we understood one another in ways that other people didn’t, and I think we fell in together because it was easier than taking the risk of making new connections. In the end, though, we had to admit that we were settling. We’d thought we were saving each other from heartache, but the truth was, we were denying each other the chance to find real love.”
“I can see how you got there, though. I mean, in theory your decision to be together made perfect sense,” said James.
“Except love is perfectly nonsensical.”
“Until you find the right person.”
“Until then.”
“Did you? Ever?”
“I’ve been in love a couple of times. But I never found anyone I would walk barefoot through the snow for,” she said honestly.
His chuckle was a low hum that vibrated through her. “Is that your mark of true love?” he asked, amused.
“Isn’t it everyone’s? How about you? Apart from your wife, of course.”
“I thought I was in love once, and it felt like the real deal, but now that I look back on it, I think I loved her mostly because she didn’t love me back.”
“Unrequited love or masochism?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Good point.”
They lay quietly in each other’s arms while the snowflakes brushed past the windows. She didn’t want to label the things she was feeling for James, but she couldn’t deny that they felt significant.
“Your turn,” she said. “Tell me about your childhood.”
“Very normal,” he replied.
“There’s no such thing.”
He sighed. “My parents were good people trapped in a bad marriage. Time spent alone with each of them was wonderful, but together they were a nightmare.”
“They never divorced?” she asked.
“Eventually, but not until they’d wasted the best years of their lives trying to force the wrong person into being the right one.”
“That’s sad.”
“I promised myself that when I grew up, I’d do things differently. And yet here I am with a failed marriage and a surprise daughter who I have more than likely emotionally damaged by my absence. I’ve managed to make the same mistakes as my parents and a bunch of new ones too.”
“You can’t hold yourself accountable for things you weren’t aware of.”
“It feels like I’ll never be done trying to backfill the dad-shaped hole in her life. I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s hereditary, like it’s in my DNA to screw things up and I should just make my peace with it.”
“That’s such a cop-out.” Her voice came out more clipped than she’d intended.
