Page 66 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

‘I know. I don’t want to go either. But I have to,’ Sutton told him. ‘YouknowI do. Because if I don’t I will regret not going.’

‘Because I’m not enough to stay for?’

Oh, how could he think that? It was the first time she’d seen him look a little lost, vulnerable, and she was in danger of him ripping through her defences. ‘No, Gus, of course not. I have to leave becauseI’mnot enough foryou, or the twins. I’m not ready to be what you need.’

‘And what’s that?’ he asked, his eyes pinning her feet to the floor.

‘A partner, a stepmum, someone who is here all the time.’ Sutton stuffed the rest of her clothing into her pack, no longer caring about creases; she just needed to get it done. ‘I need to take this job, Gus. I need to do more, be more, and think of myself first. Can you understand that?’

Gus nodded, his hand raking through his hair. ‘I wish I could say that I didn’t, but I do. I’d never want Rosie to stop doing what she was passionate about because of a man, and I can’t ask that of you.’

The next sentence would be harder to say, but that wasn’t an excuse to leave the words unspoken. ‘And there’s not enough between us, not yet, for me to stay.’

His nod was confirmation that he wasn’t in love with her. Would she change her mind if he was? Probably…not. Love wasn’t enough…

‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘Who makes life-changing decisions after just knowing someone for a month?’

Sutton blinked back tears. ‘Especially when I brought mayhem into your life.’

‘It would’ve been an exceedingly busy but quite boring time without you, Sutt.’

Gus walked over to her and folded her in his arms. ‘Maybe we’ll work something out, Sutt. Not today, or tomorrow, but maybe sometime in the future.’

She appreciated him saying that, but what else could they be but over? Realistically, London was only two hours away by train, but she would be working long hours initially, and doing shifts. As one of the new hires, she’d have to work over weekends, and when and if she had some days off, was it right to disrupt the Langstons’ weekly routine by dropping into their lives for a brief visit here and there? Gus wouldn’t be able to spend his days with her, he still had two businesses to run, and their time together would be limited. Wouldn’t that frustrate her more? Would it make returning to London harder, a sticky plaster removing several layers of skin week after week after week, a wound never able to heal?

Wouldn’t it be better to just call it quits, say thanks for the good times and move on? For her and for him, for the twins. She didn’t know what to do, or which way to jump, and she hated it.

She felt Gus’s lips in her hair and tightened her grip around him. She inhaled his scent and stood on her tiptoes to push her nose into his neck. Being held by him was heaven; she felt safe here, protected. Cherished. But safety was an illusion, being protected a myth. She had a career to establish, a friendship to sort out, and a pair of big girl panties to pull on.

Real life wasn’t a fairy tale. It was gritty and hard, with less champagne and truffles and more beer and burping.

Gus pulled back and looked at his watch. He pulled a face. ‘You’ll miss your train if we don’t get a move on,’ he told her, brushing the hair off her forehead, his expression tender. ‘But feel free to stumble onto my lawn, pissed or sober, any time you like, Sutt.’

He kissed her lips, before pulling back. ‘By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you something since we met.’

She lifted her eyebrows, internally wincing. She still couldn’t remember anything after she fell, and she suspected she’d made more of an arse of herself than Gus had let on. ‘What?’

‘You punch like a girl.’

She rolled her eyes and handed him her sweetest smile, appreciating his effort to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Of course I hit like a girl. And you could too, but only if you hit a little harder and aimed a little straighter.’

His big laugh rolled over her. ‘God, I’ll fucking miss you, Sutt.’ He dropped a hard but quick kiss on her lips. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

It took all the willpower she possessed, but Sutton only allowed her tears to roll when she heard his big feet clattering down the stairs. Leaving was the right thing to do, she knew it was.

Then why didn’t it feel like it?

ChapterSixteen

In London, Sutton sat in the lobby of the hotel off Piccadilly Circus, her eyes on the door. She’d booked in four hours ago, and after dumping her rucksack on the bed closest to the door – Layla preferred the bed next to the window – she headed back to the lobby to wait. After an hour of surfing the news on the net, she asked the person at the front desk whether Layla had left a message for her. But nope.

Layla’s plane had landed two hours ago, she’d checked the airline’s website, and Layla should be here by now. Even if she didn’t have international roaming on her phone, there were always places where she could find free Wi-Fi, and she could’ve sent her a WhatsApp message or email. But her phone remained stubbornly silent.

Another hour passed and Sutton watched as twilight fell over the city, and a light, cold rain darkened the pavement outside. Guests, happy and jolly guests – it was Christmas Eve, after all – walked in and out of the lobby, occasionally sending a curious glance.

She didn’t blame them; she knew what she looked like. White-as-bone face, big eyes, her lower lip wobbling as she tried not to cry. Layla was now hours late and Sutton had to accept she wasn’t coming.

There would be no walking through the streets of London tonight, taking in the Christmas displays in the windows of Harrods and Selfridges, no ducking into a pub for a pint and fish and chips. They wouldn’t be spending the rest of the night catching up or trying to reset their relationship. Oh, it was hard to accept, to even consider, but Layla didn’t care enough to make the trip.

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