Page 53 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

‘So now you know why that scene at the hotel pushed all my buttons,’ he said.

And then some. She turned over the information in her head, thinking it took huge strength and a shit-ton of willpower to keep a secret that big, to pretend something you didn’t feel. And why did he tell her? ‘How did you deal with the grief and the betrayal?’

He stared at a point beyond her. ‘Fuck, I don’t know. I threw myself into work, into looking after the twins, into running the Christmas shop, taking on whatever I could so that I didn’t have time to think.’ In his eyes, she caught an echo of the pain he’d endured. ‘But I always wondered what I did wrong. Why wasn’t I, and the twins, enough? Why didn’t I suspect something?’

Everything she’d asked herself about Layla. She’d lost a friend, but he’d lost his wife, the mother of their children. She couldn’t compare their two situations.

Sutton rested her forehead on his bicep, wishing she could suck the pain out of his voice, the distress out of his eyes. He was always so in control, stoic and reserved, and she knew he didn’t open up often. Or ever. But she didn’t know how to comfort him, or what to say. Stating she was sorry his dead wife was a Class A cheater bitch might make her feel better but wouldn’t help him.

‘That…sucks goats’ balls,’ she said, wishing she could be more eloquent.

He released a small laugh. ‘Yeah, it does…did. I’m over it now.’

Pfft! Of course he wasn’t. If he was over her betrayal, he would’ve found another significant other or would be dating regularly, actively looking for someone. Gus, as Eli informed her, was either celibate (not, as she’d discovered) or had one-night stands when he was out of town. He was commitment-phobic and had trust issues, and how could she blame him? She wouldn’t want to fall in love again if she discovered her husband was having an affair in the weeks and months before his death.

‘I found that scene with Owen, Alice and his lover excruciating,’ he said, steering her left. She’d been oblivious to their surroundings and had no idea where she was. She was grateful Gus was a decent navigator, or they’d be very lost by now.

‘People are so complicated,’ she said, burying her face in her scarf. ‘What would you have done if you’d found out she was having an affair?’

‘You mean if she didn’t die?’

‘Mm. Would you’ve tried to make it work, or gone to marriage counselling, or would you’ve divorced her?’

Gus frowned, and his eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve asked myself that question a few times. My pride and ego want me to tell you I would’ve divorced her and moved on without a backward glance. But when it happens, it’s not alwaysthateasy to do. The twins were tiny, and I wanted a family,myfamily. I wanted to be a hands-on dad. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I left. Conningworth is my home, my business is there and Moira’s the mum I never had. If we divorced, the village would’ve sided with Kate, and I would’ve lost them too.’ He stared off into the distance. ‘And…fuck it…I loved her. At the time of her death, I was so damn in love with her. You can’t just switch that off.’

She understood. Love didn’t just die, it wasn’t a black-and-white situation. If Layla came back into her life, she would try and find a way to repair their relationship because her friend was the main witness to her life, and a participant within it. So many of her memories, the good, bad and ugly, featured Layla, and she couldn’t edit her out of those mental video clips and reels. She was there, just like Kate would always play a starring role in many of Gus’s memories.

‘I like to think I would’ve done whatever was best for the twins.’

She didn’t need convincing. ‘I have no doubt you would’ve done the right thing, Gus. You’re a good guy, you do what’s right. Hell, you even took in a drunk waif who destroyed your Christmas decorations. I haven’t forgotten that you could’ve tossed me out, that you really didn’t need me to look after the twins. You had, have, everything, including the twins, under complete control.’

He kissed her but didn’t reply and Sutton knew she was right. If he hadn’t wanted her in his home or his life, she wouldn’t be there.

They stopped in front of a Victorian villa, cleverly converted into a boutique hotel. Sutton tipped her head back to take in its erratic roofline, with its gables, dormer windows and decorative chimneys. The steeply pitched roof sported wrought-iron cresting, which added more elegance the house didn’t need. Sutton wrinkled her nose, wishing Gus had booked a room at a bog-standard hotel. She felt bad he was paying for her to stay in such a lovely hotel with its wide bed, oriel window and spectacular ensuite bathroom. It was romantic and sexy, and she felt uncomfortable with both.

This was sex. They were, at best,friends. She didn’t need him to romance her, she was leaving soon. She thought about telling him that and knew he would either laugh or give her his ‘are you high?’ look. Gus wasn’t any more into romance than she was.

She followed him through the gate and walked up to the small porch supported by ornate columns. Gus pulled open the heavy black front door, a dim light illuminating the stained-glass panels, and Sutton stepped into the cosy, comfortable lobby. She returned the night manager’s cheery goodnight and headed for the wide stairs leading to their second-floor bedroom.

She turned back to look at Gus and caught him ogling her legs. He was thinking about sex, and she was glad. Sex she could handle; emotions tipped her upside down and sent her spinning. ‘Like what you see?’ she teased.

‘You know I do,’ Gus said, coming up next to her. The staircase veered up and right, and when they were out of sight of the night manager’s desk, he spun her around to face him. His hands yanked at the belt of her coat and he shoved it open, his hand skimming over her ribs and cupping her breasts. He thumbed her nipples, and Sutton released a low groan.

‘You are so fucking hot, Sutt,’ he told her. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all evening.’

She lifted her eyebrows. ‘Taking me on the stairs?’ she teased him, glad to see the passion in his eyes. They were better at light and fluffy, keeping their relationship surface.

‘That too,’ he told her, feeding her a hot, open-mouth kiss. Sutton wanted him to take his kiss deeper, but Gus grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket to find the room key. She liked his haste, loved the desire on his face, in his pants, for her. Sex she understood; need and want and attraction were easy to deal with. Deeper feelings, scary feelings, made her feel unstable, dizzy and off balance.

It was better to kick them to touch. They had no place in her life.

Yet, in their room, watching him shrugging out of his coat and jacket and yanking down his tie, emotion bubbled up. Her heart wasn’t listening to her brain, it wasn’t on board with keeping whatever this was surface-based. She needed to ignore it – its only job should be pumping blood around her body! – and she knew she needed to be clever, sensible, strategic…

But Gus… Gus just melted all her thoughts and fears away.

Gus dropped his hand from his shirt. Leaving it half untucked, he moved to stand in front of her and lifted his hands to hold her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones.

‘Stop thinking, Sutt,’ he murmured, his voice low and rumbly. ‘Tonight, it’s just you and me. Let’s forget about the people we loved and who let us down. We’re just a man and a woman who love how we feel when we are together. Tonight, nothing else matters.’

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