Page 100 of All We Want for Christmas
‘I—’ He was choked with emotion. ‘Thank you.’
‘No, don’t thank me. I don’t deserve it, but if you can forgive me, then that will be enough. And don’t worry, I’llspeak to Molly about tonight and I won’t be angry with her. There’s been enough disruption to her life.’
‘I’ll speak to her too and explain that she’ll always be part of my life now.’
‘Good idea.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Thanks for the drink. I should be getting back now. No need to get up. Goodbye, Flynn. We were never meant to be together, but we’re going to have a hell of a time being Nanny and Grandad.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Was it still snowing? Lara opened the curtains to see if the flakes that had been falling were going to stick when she spotted a visitor at Flynn’s front door.
She had been wondering if she could make it over there in the new heeled boots she’d had as a present for Christmas when she saw Imogen on his step, wearing a cream furry coat. Flynn had answered with a beaming smile and a bottle of something fizzy.
Lara dropped the curtain and sat down heavily on her sofa.
Every rational thought told her that Flynn would never have invited Imogen over on the same evening that he’d asked Lara. It had to be a mix-up or a coincidence. There was the outside chance that he’d intended to have a party or some kind of family gathering, but she doubted it very much. The more likely scenario, her sensible side told her, was that Imogen had turned up unannounced – but why was Flynn so happy to see her, in that case?
Lara checked his message from the previous day again:
If you don’t have other plans, do you fancy coming over for New Year’s Eve dinner?
A minute later, he’d added:
No Pressure. We can just talk.
Lara hadn’t had plans, exactly, but she had been included in an informal get-together at Carlos’s flat. If last year’s was anything to go by, it was bound to be raucous and boozy with terrible eighties music and probably end up with someone being carried back to their rooms. Pretty much exactly what a New Year’s Eve party should be. She’d hinted she might go, but when Flynn’s invitation had come through, she’d known she probably wouldn’t.
We can just talk.
Did he really mean that?
Didshewant things to go further?
If they did, wouldn’t that just put them back in the position they’d been in before? They wouldn’t be going forward or back. He was bound by the ties in the present and she didn’t want to get hurt or be on the sidelines, on hand with consolation when he needed it.
Whatever the reason for Imogen turning up, it only reinforced that Flynn was in no position to sustain a new relationship.
Ten minutes later, Lara peered through the curtains again. It was seven-fifteen and she’d no way of knowing if Imogen was still inside. She certainly wasn’t going to knock on the door and ask.
What the hell was she doing? Waiting for a man to make up his mind again?
It was New Year’s Eve. A party awaited. She zipped up her boots, grabbed her coat and a bottle of wine, and decided that it was time she stopped hanging around and let her hair down for a change.
‘Lara! Wait!’
Lara slithered to a halt halfway across the cobbles. She’d almost slipped in the slush once already.
‘Lara!’
She turned round to see Flynn, in shorts and a T-shirt, hobbling towards her across the cobbles.
‘Wait!’ he yelled. A moment later, the crutch fell to the ground, followed by Flynn. ‘Oh, f-fuck!’
Lara abandoned her bottle and dashed forward, almost falling over herself. ‘Oh God. Are you OK? What did you think you were doing?’
‘Trying to run after you,’ he said, then groaned and swore repeatedly.
‘Are you completely mad?’ she asked, high on relief that he was OK. ‘You could have done your knee in again.’
