Page 76 of Holiday Romance
“Mark doesn’t deserve you,” he interrupts. “And I don’t care if he’s found his soulmate or if he spends his weekend rescuing stray dogs. He hurt you, so I hate him. And I would very much like to punch him for breaking your heart. In fact, if anyone ever makes you think you are less than what you are, or that you don’t deserve everything that you reach for, I will make their lives as miserable as you want me to. Prank phone calls. Stones in their shoes. Whatever you ask me to do, I will do it. You are hardworking and passionate and kind and one day… one day you are going to find someone who lights you up even more than you already do. And they’ll be lucky to have you.”
I can only stare at him as he sits back, so lost for words that I don’t notice him retrieving my bag of toffee until he drops it in my lap.
“Okay?” he asks as I jump.
“Okay.”
“No settling?”
“No settling.” The word comes out as a whisper, but something in my face must satisfy him because he nods, turning his attention back to the screen.
“Good,” he says, hitting play. “Now watch the damn movie.”
* * *
Now, London
The next morning, I stand in the concourse of Euston station, waiting for Andrew to return with our promised coffees as what honestly feels like eleven million people converge around me. It is six forty a.m. on Christmas Eve and no one looks particularly happy to be here. Parents clutch the hands of bleary-eyed children and single travelers and couples stand grimly just like I do, laden down with bags and sweating in their coats. Everyone either stares at their phones or at the large board overhead, which flickers every thirty seconds with rolling destinations and departure times.
It’s chaos. And once again, I think about how this was not supposed to end up this way. Andrew and I were supposed to enjoy an hour in the first-class lounge before floating to our seats. We were supposed to enjoy our flight in comfort and luxury before parting as usual at the airport, me into a taxi and him to a bus to bring him home. We were supposed to be at our respective houses by now, which means I wouldn’t be standing here, cold and grumpy and exhausted.
I also wouldn’t have kissed him.
I wouldn’t have nearly done much more than just kiss him.
Or maybe I still would have.
I peer up at the board, waiting for our platform to appear as I fiddle with the scarf around my neck. Andrew’s scarf. Underneath it lies the necklace he gave me, the one I have yet to take off. I run my finger over the pendant, shivering when I remember the feel of him last night. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if Oliver hadn’t interrupted us.
I mean, I want to think about it alot, but—
“Three-fifty for a croissant,” Andrew announces as he appears through the crowd with our breakfast. “There’s London prices and then there’s just daylight robbery.”
“So you didn’t get any?”
“No, I got two. I’ve seen you when you’re hungry, no one wants that.”
I smirk as he passes me a coffee, taking a sip as he bites into one of the pastries.
“Why the face?” he asks. I’m surprised at the hint of worry I hear. As though he’s afraid he’s the reason for my mood.
“I’m thinking of those first-class tickets,” I say. “And how very much that experience would not have been this experience.”
“Ah, it’s good to be among the people,” he says. “Keeps you grounded.”
“I feel like I’m one wrong look away from screaming the whole place down.”
He shrugs, his gaze flicking absently over the crowd. “We can handle that. What’s your line?”
“My line?”
“Your I’ve-had-enough-and-I-don’t-care-how-bad-a-mood-I’m-in line.” Andrew takes another sip of his coffee. “Mine is if we break down. I don’t mind a wait to change drivers but if we break down, I am officially losing my shit.”
“I don’t know what mine is yet.”
“You can take a crying baby? Crying baby is a good one. There’s also strong-smelling food, considering how early it is in the morning. That would be a hard number one line for me if I wasn’t so sure something extremely bad wasn’t going to happen.”
“Don’t say that.”
