Page 77 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“Well, yeah. But maybe not just because of me. Christian obviously realises this was a mistake. Otherwise he’d still be here, right?”
The words of Christian’s text pound in my head, over and over.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybe this was a mistake.
I tear myself from Ollie’s arms and storm into my room, hot tears lashing at my cheeks, blurring my vision, but I can still see that text, those words in cold harsh black on white:
Maybe this was a mistake.
I fling myself onto the bed, bunching up the covers in my fists, crying into them until they are a soggy mess. When I finally exhaust my tears, I sit in the gloom, brooding. The strands of blue stars twinkling in my window blink in their usual cheerful cycle, oblivious to all that has changed.
Moving aside the Christmas wrapped box, I reach for the book on top of the pile by my bed, the one where words about stars that listen and dreams being answered have always given me hope and comfort. Christian’s bookmark is still tucked inside. Curious, I flick open to the page, and my eyes are drawn to an underlined sentence. In the half-light, the words seem to tremble, or maybe it’s my unsteady hands. I understand the message.
His heart knew. It knew I was his.
It knew when he met me backstage atStar Power. It knew when he underlined these words. It knew when he slid the bookmark inside this page. Did it still know when he left the house this morning? Does it still know now? I want to text him and tell him that yes; I am his. But the taunt comes back at me:
Maybe this was a mistake.
I return to the little parcel. Perhaps I’ll find a clue inside. My shaky fingers untwine the ribbon and pick open the tape. Inside there’s a hinged box, green leather with a brass clasp. I flip it open and pluck out a snow globe. It’s exquisite, possibly an antique.
In its centre, against the backdrop of a forest, there’s a winter village. The vibrant painted houses glow as if they’re lit up, window boxes and doors decked out for Christmas with minute garlands, and tiny decorations, wreaths and fairy lights. And tucked in the trees to one side, there’s a wolf. It stares at me with golden eyes, without a hint of menace. Instead, those eyes seem to signal quietresignation, as if it’s pausing to take one last look at the village, alight and radiant with joy, before slipping back into the shadowy place it belongs.
Chapter 37
Day Twelve
There are seven stepsfrom the pavement to the door of Ollie’s house. Seven steps for me to muster my courage before I go in there and fight for the woman I love. I never expected I’d have to make a choice between Haley and the best friend I’ve ever had. But if it comes down to it, I’ll choose her every time.
I know I should have stood my ground with Ollie earlier. At the time, it blindsided me. It fucking hurts when a person who’s always had your back comes at you like that. The sickening disappointment sits, an uncomfortable shifting weight, in my gut.
I take one last look at Haley’s frantic text from two hours ago. The one I never replied to, scrambling for the words to comfort her, but abandoning the idea when they wouldn’t come. Now I’m secondguessing that decision to wait to talk with her until I’ve sorted things with Ollie.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
I whirl to face the voice. Sam’s sarcastic tone is at odds with the dancing brown eyes that peer up at me from beneath a stripy hat topped with twin bright pink pom-poms. A few stray dark curls frame a face rosy with the cold. In her bulky white jacket, she looks round and squat like a friendly snow person. Looks can be deceiving.
“Come to check up on me, Sam?”
“Yeah, Rachel too. Strength in numbers.” She shoots a look further down the street where a silver AMG Mercedes edges into a park.
“Wonderful.” I match her sarcasm with my own.
Just what I didn’t need, these two siding with Ollie against me. I watch Rachel stride towards us, confident in glossy black heels and an elegant camel coloured wool coat.
“Don’t look so worried, Christian.” Her smirk suggests she enjoys the unsettling effect she has on me. “We’re here to watch the final. Haley invited us yesterday.” She scans my face, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?”
“Did she kick you out?” Sam chips in.
“You fucked something up, right?” Rachel’s tone is accusing.
“No. And no.” These two are so damn predictable, presuming it’s me who’s caused a problem. “Ollie came home.”
“Ahhh.” Sam looks at Rachel and something passes silently between them. “Don’t tell me—he’s being a dick about you and Haley.”
