Page 67 of A Festive Surprise

Chapter Twenty-One

Farid

Farid pulled open the Velcro on the back of Holly’s costume and prised it down, revealing her smooth back. She held her hair over one shoulder as he slipped off the Lycra.

‘I forgot to say.’ He breathed a gentle kiss onto her neck and slid his palms along her bare shoulder blade. She moaned. That noise. It bulleted lust straight to his core. ‘I have an invitation to a party. Georgia gave it to me. Would you come with me?’

Holly let out a groan, stepped out of his grip and pulled off the remaining top half of the elf. ‘She gave me one too. I’m not keen.’ She grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on. Ah, ok. So this undressing wasn’t going any further. Curse his desperate body. He was ready. Without ceremony, Holly ripped off the stripy leggings and put on a pair of pyjama bottoms.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked.

‘Don’t you want to ice the cake?’

‘I do, but you seem sad. What’s wrong?’

She slumped onto the bed. ‘You and me.’

‘How is that wrong?’ He blinked. ‘I can leave if you want.’

‘No, I don’t. That’s the problem. I like you being here. I like you.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘No.’ She threw up her hands. What was he missing? Where was she going with this? ‘I’m not staying here, Farid. I like my life as it is. This is fun and… diverting. It’s giving me company in a lonely place and making Christmas, well, almost fun. But it doesn’t mean I’m sticking around.’

Farid thrust his hands into his back pockets and stared at the floor. ‘I know that. You said before.’

‘And I’m saying it again because I’m frightened.’

‘Of me?’

‘Of course not. But of where you might think this is going. I don’t want to hurt you. I understand you haven’t had a relationship before and you’re all the more amazing for it, but I’d hate you to pin too much importance on this. Don’t lose your heart over me. I want us both to know exactly where we stand.’

‘Sure. I get it.’ The words flowed from his lips. Lies. He didn’t get it. Not really. He understood what she was saying but didn’t she attach any value to this at all? Would it be that easy to throw him over when the time came? Not for him. She might be able to cast him aside, but his heart would suffer. This may be his first love but it was all-consuming and precious. If he hadn’t been so drawn to her, he’d have kept his distance. Maybe he should have done anyway. Was his soul about to be shredded?

‘Good.’

‘Should I go, jamilati?’

‘No. If we’re on the same page, then stay.’

‘Sure.’ He couldn’t waste a second with her: they were numbered. Each one must be cherished.

She didn’t meet his gaze. ‘Let’s do this cake then and get it over with.’

Yes, get it over with. That was all it was to her. Something to be done quickly and pushed out of the way. ‘Ok.’ He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘I hope you enjoy it too. I didn’t suggest any of these things to upset you. They were things for us to do together and enjoy. Life is too short and valuable to waste. These little things are moments of joy – if we let them.’

Holly looked away and covered her mouth. ‘God, don’t, Farid. You’ll make me cry and I hate crying; it’s an ugly mess.’

‘Nothing about you is ugly.’ Maybe just one thing – her determination to be alone. She yielded into his arms, not crying, but slumped. The tip of his nose touched her hair and he dotted gentle kisses across her ear, her cheek, her neck. ‘Come to the party with me, please. Let’s make the most of the time we have together.’

‘Ok.’ She clasped his knee and squeezed. For a few moments they sat, just cuddling, and warmth poured into Farid’s soul. Many moments had passed in his life he would rather forget but now he was saving these seconds with Holly. He never wanted to forget this feeling.

When they finally got to the cake, it was therapeutic rolling out the marzipan, then the icing and fitting it to the lumpy cake, leaving a perfectly smooth surface to work on. While Farid trimmed the edges, Holly sat at the breakfast bar with the trimmings, hunched over, moulding it and prodding it with a cocktail stick.

‘What are you making?’

‘It’s a log.’

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