Page 16 of Christmas Ever After
‘Fine,’ I say warily, feeling a bit guilty for half-expecting him to have an ulterior motive. I suck my spoon clean and put it down. I wasn’t sure there was any such thing as too much peanut butter, but I’ve found the threshold.
‘Seriously, Franca. The truth – not the brush-off answer you’d give to anyone else. There’s no point in pushing me away because I’m going to keep coming back, and there’s no point trying to deny it because I can see how washed-out you look.’
‘Thanks,’ I mutter, although it’s undoubtedly true and I appreciate him not pussyfooting around it.
‘This is my fault and being honest with me is only going to make me feel worse about it, so be honest with me. Make me feel as bad as possible. You’ll enjoy that.’
An unexpected laugh escapes because there’s something to be said for that logic. I’ve tried to brush off how hard this has hit me from Cleo and Mrs Bloom and from the other shopkeepers who have come to check on me because I don’t want people to feel obligated to offer help, but what have I got to lose by tellingRaff? ‘I’ve had better weeks, to be fair. Did you know the video has gone viral?’
‘What?’
I’m surprised he doesn’t know yet as I explain about the livestream still going out as planned and the ghouls who have found it funny. Raff gets his phone out and I’m envious of his nimble fingers that quickly find the offending link and open it.
‘Don’t watch that!’ I snap when the noise of the video starting comes from his phone. ‘I don’t need the reminder! I never want to see that footage, ever!’
To his credit, he stops it immediately and I watch him scroll down to the comments section and see the way he flinches as he looks through them. ‘Whatever you do, don’t read the comments.’
‘I glanced at them last night,’ I say, feeling stupid and guilty, like an author who can’t stay away from the one-star reviews. ‘I didn’t even know there werethatmany pig emojis.’
‘I’m going to downvote these. No, wait…’ He’s frowning as his fingers fly across the screen. ‘I’m reporting every single one of these, and I’m going to report the video itself to the site and hopefully they’ll take it down. And then I’m going to give Mitch agiganticpiece of my mind.’
‘It won’t help. He’s delighted. Mitch’s job is to get social media interest, and he’s just got fifteen thousand pairs of eyes on us.’
Raff grimaces and turns his phone screen around to show me. ‘Twenty-three thousand now.’
The number on the screen increases with every second that passes, and I let out a groan. ‘Just when you think things can’t get any worse.’
He types a complaint to the video site and then drops his phone onto the counter. ‘Try not to worry about it. Today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip wrapping.’
‘Except it’s online for all eternity, and no one wraps fish and chips in newspaper any more, it’s horribly unhygienic.’
‘Well, tomorrow’s digital fish and chip wrapping then,’ he says with a laugh and then continues before I have a chance to ask what digital fish and chips are. ‘It’ll blow over. Give it a hot minute and there’ll be some idiot doing something stupid on TikTok and all these people will be watching that instead. It’s only getting views at the moment because it’s new, and?—’
‘Because everyone’s talking about it? Because Jorge’s comments are hilarious if you’renoton the receiving end of them and people are quoting him? And you and I…’ My eyes flick up to his and then look away quickly. I feel silly and disgraced for having such a trivial row with him even when we bothknewthe camera was rolling. Maybe Mitch is right and webothdeserve to be evicted. ‘…are petty and stupid and couldn’t put our differences aside for even a minute.’
‘At least these thousands of viewers think we’re good entertainment?’ he offers, although his cheeks have reddened too.
‘And then with the falling and the hanging on the arch…’ I let out a groan. ‘I’m a meme on Reddit. Cleo phoned this morning to say someone’s made a gif of me on Twitter. A gif, Raff!’
‘I’m so sorry about all of this. I never meant for…’ He sighs and pushes a hand through his unkempt straight hair, seeming lost for words, and I actually feel bad for him. He looks like he’s got a huge weight of responsibility on his shoulders, when really, an accident is an accident. We’veallbeen guilty of not looking where we’re going from time to time, and webothhad that argument. We wound each other up, and if we hadn’t, if we’d both been mature enough to hold onto our tempers for the good of Christmas Ever After, then none of this would’ve happened.
He sighs again and looks up at me. ‘How are you coping? Are you sleeping? Are you managing to cook and eat and shower anddress and… everything? I fell off a climbing frame and broke my arm when I was seven and I remember my mum having to doeverythingfor me. It was a nightmare.’
I wish it was a nightmare, at least I could wake up then. ‘Fine, like I said.’
He raises a dark eyebrow, staring me down, wordlessly challenging me to lie to him while looking straight into those deep brown eyes, and goosebumps tingle the back of my neck. There’s something in his eyes that’s so genuine and there’s honest concern etched on his face.
It undoes something inside of me. ‘I’m not coping at all. I can’t doanything. I’m useless. I’ve already lost one career due to injury and now I’m going to lose another one. I can’t make any nutcrackers. I thought I was going to pass out on the bus home last night because the pain was so bad and I desperately wanted to sit down, but no one offered, no one even looked at me until the driver recognised me and laughed, and then… I broke my favourite Christmas mug.’
The mug is my downfall and a big, uncontrollable sob bursts out, and tears I hadn’t realised were building up spill down my face.
Within seconds, Raff is behind the counter. He has the forethought to touch my elbow and gently lift my hand out of the way before wrapping me in his arms.
One arm goes around me and his hand rubs my back, and his other hand cups my head, holding me against his chest, surrounding me with his aftershave and the solid strength of his warm body as he squeezes mesotightly. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’
They’re probably the nicest words anyone’s ever said to me, and they make me cry even harder, because for the first time in a really long time, I feel like someone truly cares, and for the moment, it doesn’t matter that it’shimof all people.
His hand strokes through my hair, and his chin presses against the top of my head where I fit perfectly against him, and I’m sotiredof trying to be strong and trying to pretend I’m okay, and he knows I’m not anyway, and I let myself fall apart while he holds me tight enough to keep me together.
