Page 42 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

The words ‘making’ and ‘love’ kept popping into her head. Problematic. Sutton couldn’t handle any version of the L-word rocking up to the party. She was too messed up, was moving on, had no intention of sticking around, and couldn’t allow herself to develop any he’s-the-one feelings for him.

Telling him about Layla would deepen their friendship, and everybody knew friendship was the gateway to love. Explaining how Layla scoured her heart meant cracking open that door and flirting with the possibility of becoming emotionally closer to him. It also meant sharing too much of herself. She didn’t want to get attached. She needed to leave without allowing her heart to take any part in these proceedings.

But, dammit, she also desperately needed someone to talk to. For weeks, she’d kept this to herself, and nobody knew Layla was pulling her through barbed wire and across a field of broken glass. Everyone back home thought Layla was being her usual successful self, and nothing was wrong between them. That Sutton was fine, and Layla was enjoying her best life.

Nobody suspected she was broke, living off Gus’s kindness – oh, he said he needed a nanny, but he’d been prepared to do without one! – and that Layla used her money to fund a holiday.

She opened her mouth to explain but changed her mind at the last second. ‘Today Rosie told me I was a moron. When I told her she hurt my feelings, she asked me what a moron was.’

He smiled as she expected him to, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘You do that,’ he murmured. ‘You change the subject or make a joke when you feel uncomfortable. Why do you feel uncomfortable telling me why you had a meltdown in my kitchen?’

So they were doing this. Damn.

Sutton picked up a cushion, held it against her stomach and then tossed it aside. He wouldn’t let this go. ‘Do you believe only lovers can break hearts?’ she asked Gus, avoiding his perceptive gaze.

His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her question. He rolled his finger, silently asking for more.

‘They say only lovers can break hearts, but I know that’s not true. When any type of love is involved, platonic love, sisterly love, friendship love, the heart is always vulnerable.’

Gus took his time to respond. ‘Maybe it’smorevulnerable because, with lovers, the possibility of being disappointed is a known, widely accepted, risk. There isn’t as much risk in a platonic relationship…So, who broke your heart, Sutt?’

Sutton bent her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on her knee and pulled a face. ‘I’m broke.’

‘I know,’ Gus replied, his tone dry. ‘Thirty pounds and a fiver broke.’

Sutton grimaced. But he wasn’t wrong.

‘I’m trying to understand how you managed to travel without money,’ Gus said. She knew it was his way of easing her into deeper waters gently.

‘I had money,’ Sutton told him. ‘I saved enough to allow me to pay for accommodation, food, transport and fun until the end of January.’ Gus didn’t say anything, happy to wait for an explanation. ‘My best friend Layla and I always planned to travel together, but when it came time to buy the tickets and nail down our itinerary, she got cold feet. Fair enough, I couldn’t force her to go with me, so I decided to travel on my own. She stayed in Cape Town and I went to Italy, Spain, Greece and to the Beerfest in Munich.’

More silence.

‘I was in Berlin at the airport, I was heading for Amsterdam and about to board, when Layla called me. Did I tell you we’ve been friends since we were five years old?’ Sutton explained, and she heard her voice hitching with emotion. She would not cry, not again. She blinked back her tears and dug her chin into her knee, the slight pain-pressure keeping her tears at bay.

‘Get it out, Sutton. You’ll feel better when you do.’

She stared at the painting behind him, the colours a blur. ‘She was in a jam, her company – she owns a nail bar franchise – had a cash-flow crunch, and she asked if she could borrow two thousand pounds. She said she’d pay me back in a week, it was super-temporary, and I wouldn’t even notice the missing money,’ Sutton added. ‘In the line, waiting to board, and not thinking twice, I transferred the money via my banking app. Layla asked for help and I gave it to her.’

‘And she hasn’t repaid you,’ Gus said, frowning. ‘Asking you when you were about to board, and didn’t have time to discuss the loan, was excellent timing on her part.’

Sutton cocked her head. She’d never thought about the timing.

‘For the first few weeks, I let it go, I had some money. But then I started to get concerned. I needed the money when I got back to England from Europe. I started sending her daily messages, and she promised to pay me, then got upset with me because I lacked trust, and I was a bad friend for questioning her word. That went on for about two weeks.’

‘Classic gaslighting,’ Gus murmured.

‘When I told her I was running out of money, she started ghosting me. I’d leave her messages and she’d send me WhatsApp messages, supposedly showing me she’d tried to call me. I sent her direct messages on social media, which she read but never responded to.’

‘Ouch.’

Indeed.

‘I was out of options and then Jason, a friend of a friend, suggested I come here for a few weeks. At least I’d have a roof over my head. You know the rest.’

‘It doesn’t explain me finding you on the floor earlier.’

Sutton picked up her wine glass and took a large sip. ‘I was trying to find the energy to tackle the kitchen and I thought I’d take a break and check her social media accounts. I pulled up her Insta account but Moira arrived. She’s trying to set us up, by the way.’

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