Page 89 of Our Secret Moments

“Have things that are more important than me,” I finish for him, pushing out my chair and standing from the table. “Thank you for dinner. Call me when you feel like being a dad again.”

I get out of the house as quickly as my legs can carry me. Dad doesn’t say or do anything to stop me. He lets me leave.

When I’m practically sprinting towards the end of the estate, I stop, considering turning around and interrupting Connor’s family dinner. The Christmas tree in his front yard glistens and their living room light is on.

I could walk up to their door, knowing that they would answer, but that only makes me feel worse. They’ll just feel sorry for me, stuff me with food and beg me to stay the night.

When I make my way to the end of the road, accepting the fact that I’ll have to walk the twenty minutes to campus, I pull out my phone and call Connor. He answers immediately.

“Hi,” I say shakily, slowing down my walk. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Catherine,” he replies, and for whatever reason I can justhearhis smile. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I say.So much,I want to add. There’s so much I want to tell him. So much I want to let him know, but I bite my tongue. Today is supposed to be a happy day. A celebration. Not a day to complain about how broken my family is to a person who wouldn’t understand.

“Hey, what’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself,” he murmurs and it sounds like he’s moving from one place to the next. “Talk to me.”

I sigh, annoyed at how he can see right through me. Or, well, hear. “I just missed your voice. Christmas dinner with my dad wasn’t… fun. I just want to go home.”

“Home?” he repeats. “What do you mean? You’re already at home, aren’t you?”

I swallow, trying my hardest not to cry. “No. I mean, home with you. Wherever you are, that’s where I’m home. That’s where I want to be.”

For a second I feel like I’ve said the wrong thing. Am I coming off too desperate? All I hear is the soft sound of his breathing as I walk through the cold winter air, pushing forward.

“Then come home to me, Cat,” he says finally. My chest deflates with emotion.

“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“Why?”

“Because that’s not fair on you,” I admit.

“What isn’t fair is the fact that you feel like you’re not important to me and you’re more important than anyone,” he replies.

“I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

“You’re not ruining anything. My family love you. You know they do. It can be like old times. We’ll play board games and—”

“You’ll all feel sorry for me,” I say, cutting him off. “I can’t do that today. Ican’t.”

He lets out a frustrated breath. “You’re not listening to me. I’m telling you that it’ll be okay. They won’t ask any questions and—”

“You’re not listening tome,Connor,” I say, my temper rising. “You don’t get it, okay? You can say they won’t ask, but that doesn’t matter, because they’re all thinking it. They’ll wonderwhy I’m by myself and your dad will call my dad it’ll be a whole thing and I just can’t do that right now.”

I don’t even realise that I’m crying until the tears spill down my cheeks and dribble on my chin. I take in a sharp breath, stopping at the end of the road.

“Okay,” he says quietly and instantly feel bad for snapping at him. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say, running an annoyed hand across my face. “I don’t want to argue with you, I’m just having a hard time right now and… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says softly. “Just know that it’s not me that wants this. I want you with me all the time.”

“I know,” I whisper. I half expect him to respond with ‘Do you?’ but he doesn’t. I need to get in bed and reorganise my feelings before I start to go into overdrive.

“And Catherine?”

“Yeah?”

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