Page 8 of Merrily Ever After
“I know I said I wanted to bring her here for Christmas, but she just wasn’t up for it. And I know Christmas Eve probably wasn’t the best time to travel, but I wanted my own bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
Disappointment surges through me, but I keep my expression the same. Of course, she’s exhausted. She wants to go home, and I’m making her stand out in the cold.
“I’ll go,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how tired you must be.”
“No!” The word bursts out of her, and I pause, surprised. So does Lara. “I mean … stay,” she says after a second. “I want you to stay. Sorry. I just meant you don’t have to go if you don’t—”
“No problem,” I interrupt. She gets like this sometimes. Fumbles her words. Gets embarrassed. It’s the surest way to make her retreat and that’s the last thing I want her to do right now.
“And I mean it,” she says. “About the flowers. Not a lot of people got in touch.” She grimaces. “I don’t mean to make it about me. It’s such a busy time of the year, but I don’t know. I got lonely over there.”
“You should have told me. I would have come.”
She smiles a little. Like I’m joking. But I’m completely serious.
“You ready for your surprise?”
She sighs. Long and hard. But she doesn’t look like she wants to hit me anymore.
“Don’t you trust me?” I ask, holding my arms out wide.
Her brow furrows. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look like a sad puppy. You always do it when you want something to go your way and I always fall for it because I always fall for—”
You.She doesn’t say the word; she cuts herself off with a shake of her head. Like she’s mad at herself.
“Okay,” she says abruptly. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“You make it sound like you’re heading for the battlefield.”
She snorts, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “With you, Oliver, anything is possible.”
She’s not far from the station, so we walk to hers together. My mood bounces back with each step, and by the time we reach her door, even Lara can’t help but warm to my obvious enthusiasm.
“Why am I nervous?” she asks with an awkward laugh. “I feel like you’ve booby-trapped it or something.”
“Or something,” I say as I take the key from her hand and unlock the door. “Let me do it. Stay there. Don’t look.”
“I’m going to change that code,” she warns me as I shut off the alarm.
“Close your eyes.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“I’m not—Oliver.” She groans as I place my hand over her eyes, but doesn’t pull away as I lead her into the hallway. I glance into the living room, squinting through the darkness in case thetree fell over again. But it’s where it’s supposed to be and still looks majestic.
Perfect. It’s all perfect. Even without the extra tinsel.
Maybe I could put some in the downstairs loo when she’s not looking.
“Merry Christmas, Lara,” I tell her, removing my hand. I picture the next moment as I do. The kaleidoscope of color. The piles of presents. The smile on her face.
I flick the light switch.
