Page 11 of Merrily Ever After
“We didn’t have a fireplace growing up. We lived in an apartment like normal people.”
“Didn’t you ever go camping?”
I pull a face like I’m offended. “Do I look like someone who’s been camping?”
“I’ll do the fire,” she says flatly, tossing me her phone. “You ring the electrician just in case they have someone working and text your parents so they know what’s going on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
But since it’s nearing 2 a.m., and is literally Christmas Day, even the twenty-four ones don’t pick up, so I leave some messages and update my family about the change in plans.
By the time I return, the fire is blazing, lighting the room in a cozy, warm glow. Lara sits cross-legged on the couch. Or rather her bed, since that’s what it looks like now with her mound of pillows and blankets. I have my own version on the floor. She’s made it look like the comfiest floor I’ll ever sleep on.
“Probably won’t get someone until the morning,” I say, and she nods, resigned, as if she expected as much.
“You sure you’re okay sleeping there?” she asks.
“God, no. Switch places.” I sit down in front of her with my back to the couch. “Do you think we missed Santa?”
“Guess we’ll find out.” She draws her legs up and rests her chin on her knees, tilting her head to look at me. “Your hair’s gotten longer,” she says and that just makes me imagine her fingers running through it so I keep quiet and give what I hope is a normal smile.
She clears her throat when I don’t answer and continues: “How’s the job?”
“Weird.”
“All your jobs are weird.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve made a bit of a name for myself working as an executive assistant to the wealthy and odd of London. I’ve worked with all kinds of people. But that’s how I like it. “It keeps things interesting,” I say. “It’s been a few months with this guy, though. I think I’m ready for a new challenge.”
Now it’s her turn to say nothing, and when she just looks back at the fire, I feel a hint of self-doubt.
“I know it’s not a normal career path,” I tell her. “But I enjoy what I do. I like the freedom.”
“I never said it wasn’t normal.” She looks surprised. “The important thing is that you’re happy.”
“I am.” Or at least I think I am. Happiness comes and goes, but if you asked me on an average day, I’d say I feel pretty content.
This doesn’t feel like an average day, though. And I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen her in a few weeks. Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas. Maybe it’s just something in the air, but all I can think about is the way Andrew and Molly looked at each other when they thought no one was watching, and when I do, the urge to flee is so great it almost burns.
“I’m sorry,” Lara says after a second. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” But a strange sense of discomfort stretches between us. “How’syourjob?” I ask.
“Same,” she shrugs.
“Fulfilling and appropriately remunerated?”
“Apparently they’re going to fix the coffee machine next month.”
“And they say our system’s broken.” Lara is a GP in the local surgery. Underpaid and overworked. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe she needs a break. A proper one.
“We should go on a holiday in the new year,” I say.
“The new year?” She blinks. “You mean as in next week?”
“Yeah.”
Her expression doesn’t light up like I thought it would. “Where?”
