Page 40 of All I Want for Christmas

His eyes roamed over her fresh blow-dry, distinctly bouncier than yesterday’s limp ponytail. She was wearing her ‘no make-up’ make-up and after twenty minutes of agonized staring into her wardrobe, she’d pulled on boyfriend jeans, chunky loafers and her best cream rollneck. It was of vital importance that she didn’t look like she cared about how she looked.

‘Come in.’ He stepped back, and she moved past him into the beautiful entrance hall. ‘How are you today?’ he asked. He was wearing jeans and a blue marl knitted sweater with navy stripes on the cuffs. Socks, too, this morning. Sunday Max looked cosy, an open invitation to cuddle.

Only that wasn’t on offer – only the use of his sofa.

‘Fine, thanks. Did you have a good day out yesterday?’

He glanced at her as he passed, as if hearing the stiffness of their formal conversation. ‘Yes.’ He climbed the stairs, offering no details. ‘When did you leave?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘About six...When did you get back?’

‘Six twenty.’

She rolled her eyes with relief. She’d escaped in the nick of time. ‘Ah. Well that’s good, then.’

‘Good?’

‘That I was out of the way.’

He glanced at her again as he headed into the luxurious kitchen. It was the same size as Darcy and Freja’s entire apartment. She noticed a huge, fresh bouquet of black tulips on the dining table; it scented the space, along with the coffee that was being freshly ground in the fancy machine. The Sunday papers were scattered on the table beside the boxes, open to the business pages.

‘When did the new boxes come over?’ she asked, not moving past the sofa as he made a couple of coffees.

‘Nine, thereabouts.’

He brought them over a few moments later. ‘Strong and black.’

‘Thanks.’ She wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for its heat. She had decided against cycling over, not wanting to arrive looking dishevelled like yesterday, but there had been a hard frost overnight and vanity had dictated no socks with her rolled-up jeans. ‘You know, I hadn’t planned on coming back here today.’

It was intended as an apology, a way out for him, even, but he frowned. ‘Why not? Have you found what you needed?’

‘No.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘God, I wish. No—’

‘So then...?’

She hesitated a moment. ‘...Can I really not take one back with me? Just one? I’d be so careful. I’d protect it with my life.’

He frowned. ‘Why are you so determined to get away from here?’

‘I’m not.’

‘No? Could have fooled me.’

She stared at him, trying to find the right words. How could she tell him it felt like a punishment to be here, both with him and without him? It wasn’t easy for her to be in his presence, as it seemingly was for him to be in hers. He wasn’t neutral to her. ‘It just doesn’t feel right, dominating your weekend like this.’ It was as honest as she could get.

‘You’re not dominating. I barely saw you yesterday. It made no difference one way or the other that you were here.’

She swallowed. The words felt rough, even if he was trying to reassure her. ‘Well, even so, it’s a Sunday now and...Are you going out again today?’ she asked hopefully. At least, sitting here alone was something she knew she could do.

‘No.’

‘Oh.’ Her eyes flickered around the room, skating over the ceiling as she listened for signs of Angelina upstairs. She was probably still in bed. Beauty sleep.

‘She’s not here,’ he said, as if reading her mind.

‘Oh?’ But he offered nothing further and she tried to decide whether it was better or worse that they were alone here together.

‘Have you eaten?’

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