Page 65 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

Look at him, all bolshy and bold and beautifully grumpy. She wanted nothing more than to lay her head on his chest, to sink into his warmth and strength, but she knew that if she did that, she might not be able to pull herself away. ‘As I told you, we’ve been planning this trip since we were fifteen years old, down to the last detail. We have itineraries for every day. It’s been our longest dream, the best way to celebrate our thirtieth birthdays.’

His gaze sharpened. ‘It’s your birthday?’

‘Midway through January. Layla’s is in November, so we thought December was a good compromise. We’d lie awake night after night talking about London, about doing this,’ she continued. She winced at her robotic tone. Where was her enthusiasm, her excitement? Was she trying to convince him or herself?

‘Youcanchange your mind and do something else.’

Of course she could, but not about this. She needed to reset her relationship with Layla, to see if they could find a new normal. And she needed to walk away from Gus while she could. Before she got hurt. ‘After so many years of planning? I can’t, Gus. You wouldn’t do that either.’ Sutton picked up her laptop case and shoved it down the back of her battered backpack. ‘But maybe I can come and see you guys when I return to the UK.’

‘For a quick shag?’

Ouch, that hurt. She looked at him, trying to keep it together. ‘What we shared might’ve been short, but it wasn’t cheap, Gus. Don’t make it sound like it was.’

He winced and nodded. He rubbed his hands up and down his face and when he dropped them, she saw his contrite expression. ‘Yeah, sorry.’

She also noticed he didn’t comment on her visiting them in the new year. Didn’t he want to see her again? Was he the ‘when it’s over, it’s over’ type? Was this it? The end? Were they done? Should she push the point, or see how it played out? She didn’t know…

‘She’s going to hurt you, Sutt.’

His change of subject threw her. ‘Who?’

‘Your friend Layla.’ Gus gripped the doorframe above his head, and his sweater rose to reveal a strip of skin above the band of his cargo pants. The muscles in his arms bulged and he looked cross and competent, frustrated and as sexy as hell. Sutton lowered her eyes, reminding herself she didn’t have enough time to jump him. What were they talking about? Right, Layla.

Sutton glanced at her silent phone. Layla’s plane was in the air now, had been for a while, but she hadn’t received a text message from Layla telling her she was excited to see her, nor had she sent her a photo from the airport. She hadn’t heard a damn thing.

She didn’t know if Layla had left Cape Town or not. Oh, she could check her social media pages, or reach out to their mutual friends, but she was reluctant to do that. She wanted Layla to value their friendship enough to be on that plane.

‘How will she hurt me, Gus?’ Please don’t say it, please don’t say it.

‘She won’t be there, Sutt.’

And there it was, her biggest fear. ‘How do you know?’ Sutton retorted, annoyed by his confidence. ‘You don’t know her!’

‘I know she’s let you down, and she hurt you. Why are you going back for more? People show you who they are, Sutton, and when they do, you should believe them.’

Philosophy by Gus. Great, it was all she needed. He didn’t understand, and she couldn’t explain, that she needed to go to London. Not only to put some emotional distance between her and Gus, but to be able to say to herself, and anyone who later asked, including Layla, that she’d kept her word, and she’d given her all. She didn’t want to have any regrets, and as long as she could prove she’d shown up for their friendship, she’d be able to hold her head high.

Her actions would show the value she put on their relationship, and Layla’s would do the same. If Layla was there, they could try to repair what was now a broken and unbalanced relationship. If she wasn’t, well, she’d deal with that too.

‘Why can’t you move on from her?’

Oh, that was rich! He said it like it was so easy to do, like moving on was something she could do with the snap of her fingers, a toss of her head. ‘Like you have?’ she whipped back.

He slowly lowered his arms to his sides and his eyebrows formed into a deep frown. ‘What? What does that mean?’

‘You haven’t moved on either, Gus! You own a Christmas shop and every December you throw yourself on the altar of fake worshipping it, but you hate it! You wear stupid sweaters you hate, decorate your house within an inch of its life, and take on this role of Mr Christmas while loathing every second of it!’

‘You know why I’m doing it! I’m doing it for my kids, to keep the memory of their mother alive—’

‘Oh,bullshit.Your kids will want to know what their mum’s favourite colour was, whether she liked apples or oranges, and how much she loved them, not whether she owned a Christmas shop or was a pillar of the community. It’s like you take her out at Christmas and dust her off.’

‘You don’t know what you are talking about!’ Gus whisper-shouted.

‘And you don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to Layla!’

Her chest was heaving, so was his.Shit!A fight wasn’t what she wanted, she didn’t want to leave on a sour note, with harsh words between them. She wanted him to remember her, this crazy, time they shared, with a smile and laughter. She didn’t want his last memories of her to be of them fighting. She lifted her hand. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Gus. Please let’s not do that.’

He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. When he looked up at her, his eyes reflected his torment. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he admitted, his voice low and rough.

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