Page 85 of Enemies to Lovers

It’s more than that.

Ineedhim there. The way that I feel, this isn’t just about making sure he knows he is welcome in our family, for ever and always. It is that I want him to be my family, for ever and always.

‘Oh my god,’ I say, hand flying to my mouth. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I didn’t know this before now.

‘What?’ says Alex, looking worried. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I … I like Jamie,’ I say. It’s as simple and easy as that.

I.

Like.

Him.

Laurie’s eyes fly up to me, and I blink back tears. ‘Exposure therapy was never going to be enough,’ I mutter, as much to myself as to them. I’m reasoning out loud, trying to figure out when this happened. ‘I wantedto break down his walls,’ I say, and Kate nods. I think I’m finally catching up with her. ‘I called it “exposure therapy”. I thought we could be friends. But I fell for him. I think I fell for him at Christmas actually, and have kidded myself that I got over what he did – whilst beingdesperateto know why he turned his back on me.’

‘Christmas?’ asks Dad. ‘Oh yeah. I remember seeing you kiss his cheek, when we were doing the jigsaw. I thought something might be happening …’

‘It was,’ Mum says. ‘You were so kind with him, when he was outside with me. Do you remember? He was upset about his parents.’

I nod. ‘I remember,’ I say. ‘Bless him.’

‘So it was a lovers’ tiff – why he left so quickly?’ Mum clarifies. ‘The day after Boxing Day?’

I shake my head. ‘No. Not exactly. I feel like something happened, that I’m missing a vital piece of the puzzle. I’m sure he fell for me, too, at Christmas. I can’t have made that feeling up. I can’t have! We spent all Christmas getting closer and closer, and right before he suddenly left, he wrote me a note saying he’d led me on.’

‘You what?’ says Dad, and he looks at Mum, who is similarly troubled by this revelation. ‘Jamie?’ he clarifies. ‘What a bloody idiot.’

‘I’ve spent months feeling like I made it all up, that it was some one-sided infatuation that I could only handle if I decided to hate him. But it wasn’t, I’m sure of it. It wasn’t a one-sided infatuation.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Laurie says then.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘I need to tell you what I did, Flo,’ Laurie says. ‘But before I do, I want you to know that I am really, really sorry.’

20

Last Christmas

I’m so sorry, he writes on the blank piece of paper. It’s more of a scrawl than legible handwriting – he’s always been told he writes like a doctor, all pinched and slanted and jumbled, like he has better things to be doing than scribing longhand. But who writes by hand any more? It’s an unnecessary skill, penmanship. He’s trying his best, though, to make it look thoughtful. He knows that much is important.

He pauses. Pinches the bridge of his nose. He has a headache. This doesn’t feel good, to be doing this.

But he must.

It’s for the best.

I have led you on, he continues.I am not good for you. Please forgive me, and let’s not speak of this again …

He sighs, staring at what he has done.

‘You’ll regret this, you know.’

He looks up. He didn’t realise he was being watched.

‘Maybe,’ he replies, and his headache gets worse as he folds the paper and writes her name on one side.

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