Page 65 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Expectations,’ Imogen murmured.
‘What’s that?’
‘People expect so much of others, and often they don’t realize what they’re going through.’
‘So true.’ Dexter squeezed her hand.
‘Did you have a lot of that, when Rae died?’ They had reached Birdie’s house, but they stopped outside it, Dexter doing up the top button of Imogen’s coat. ‘I’m just about to take it off,’ she said with a laugh.
‘I don’t want you to be cold.’ He stared at her for a beat, as if considering his answer. ‘I had a lot of help, when it happened. People giving me advice about Lucy, because I was suddenly a single dad of a six-year-old, and I was grieving. They all meant well.’
‘But it wasn’t always helpful?’
He shrugged. ‘I learnt, after a while, to take the bits that were useful, to smile politely and thank them even when it wasn’t. I was lucky to have so many people who cared enough about me and Lucy, who had loved Rae enough to want to help.’
‘I’m so glad you did.’
‘Why did you ask about the bookshop?’ He pushed a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes.
‘I was thinking about my copy ofNorthanger Abbey. But if it’s not been open for years, then it can’t have anything to do with it.’
‘Ask Sophie when she’s back; I know she got given one last Christmas.’
‘I will. Whoever it was, I’m glad they gave it to me.’
‘Because you’re enjoying it?’
She smiled, slow and cat-like. It wasn’t like her at all, but she felt safe enough with Dexter to try being flirtatious. ‘Because it meant I had a scene idea for the Snow Show, and I could ask you to do it with me.’
‘In that case, I’m also glad someone gave it to you. When we find out who it is, I’ll thank them. And you know the promise we made still stands. I’m not just here for acting and daily pastries. I will look after you, protect you if you need me to.’
‘The mistletoe promise,’ Imogen whispered. She thought of what her mum had said about Edmund still being determined to win her back. ‘It’s good that we made it.’
‘It is.’ Dexter squeezed her hand, and Imogen swallowed. Even then, being so close to him, getting a light kiss on the cheek after they’d said their solemn words beneath a bunch of mistletoe, had made her whole body spark. And now they’d kissed properly, quite a lot, and her crush was only getting worse. In fact, ‘crush’ was a wholly inadequate word for what she was feeling.
She glanced at Birdie’s house. ‘I should probably go inside, and you should take Lucy home.’
‘Why?’ He sounded flirtatious and reluctant; all the things Imogen was feeling. ‘Because your fingers have gone numb?’
‘There is that, but we also have an audience.’ She gestured to the window, and Dexter looked past her.
‘Ah.’ He waved, and Birdie and Lucy, who had made a not-so-subtle gap in the curtains and were peering out at them, were forced to wave back. ‘Busted,’ he said under his breath, and Imogen laughed, feeling happier – and colder – than she had in a long time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Imogen had spent the morning at the community hub, helping a stylish older woman research her family tree. It had been a slow start but, as she watched Cynthia growing in confidence and clicking around the menus of a couple of genealogy websites, Imogen felt as if she’d actually made a difference.
The hub was busy, people coming in and out all the time, festive tunes playing in the background and the constant ding of the hotel bell, and Winnie’s infectious laughter drifting in from reception. Imogen had helped a delivery man carry boxes into the kitchen, and the chef had asked her to sample her turkey bonbons, which Imogen hadn’t minded in the least. She felt fulfilled and appreciated, and not – as she had in her PA role – as if she was working as hard as she could and still failing to reach some undefined and impossible standard.
She was walking back to Birdie’s at lunchtime, her chin buried in the collar of her coat, when her phone chimedin her pocket. She grabbed it eagerly, Dexter’s warm, dark eyes dancing through her mind. It had been a few days since their rehearsal. Fiona hadn’t told them when the next one was, and she and Dexter had only managed a couple of brief exchanges in the bakery when she went to get a cake. But then she saw who the message was from, and her spirits sank to her feet.
Mum:Christmas planning is incredibly difficult without you here, and I hope all this business hasn’t made you neglect your duties. I assume the cards are done as it’s the 10th of December – Liberty’s deliver to wherever you’ve holed yourself up, I’m sure – and we have the Christmas Eve party. Edmund will be attending, but I expect you there too. Have you ordered a new dress? And you’re on cracker duty this year, £50 minimum per box or the gifts are tat. Shall we schedule a call? Mum. xx
Imogen felt as though those two kisses had been scratched against her sternum. She had told her mum she was spending Christmas here with Gran, and yet she thought she was doing thatandfulfilling all the obligations she’d had in the past – and new ones too: fifty-pound boxes of crackers, which might be the most pointless, over-the-top task yet. She hadn’t eventhoughtabout sending out cards, and the fact that her mum had been making her buy them from Liberty’s for the last three years suddenly seemed ludicrous. ‘It isallludicrous.Allof it!’ she said, as she walked into Birdie’s warm, incense-scented hallway.
‘What’s that?’ her gran called from the kitchen.
‘Nothing! Just a big, fat wake-up call.’
