Page 67 of The Best Little Christmas Shop
‘I have George. And yes, in the future, I think it would be nice for him to have some siblings.’
‘I can’t give you that.’
‘Lexi –’ he shook his head ‘– I didn’t mean tomorrow. It was a definite “in the future possibly” scenario.We were just talking.’
‘There is no possibly for me. Well, very little chance anyway.’
Cal’s face was serious in the low light of the cloud-filtered moonlight through the car windows. ‘What do you mean?’
There was something about Cal that would have made it easy to tell him everything. That in itself was pretty unusual for me and my subconscious prodded me, rolling its eyes at me, knowing exactlywhat was going to happen, despite all the above.
‘I … nothing exactly. I just meant that … I kind of live a very peripatetic lifestyle and it doesn’t really leave a lot of space for … other things.’ I turned away from those searching eyes and drew some beads of window condensation together with my finger, hiding my face as Cal considered my vague answer. Glancing back I could tell he knew I washolding back but I prayed that, for now at least, he’d do an Elsa and just let it go.
But this was Cal Martin. The man who’d been kicked out on to the streets at eighteen, and built up a multimillion-pound business. The man who’d taken on a newborn baby and raised him into a wonderful, kind, funny child with very little help. Of course he wasn’t going to let it go. But I was exhausted and I didn’twant to do this any more.
‘I’d like to go home now. I can just call a taxi if –’
‘No. I’ll take you.’
I risked a look up at him as he reached over and turned the key. His neck muscles were corded with tension and his mouth was set in a line. I’d hurt him and I couldn’t even give him the whole explanation as to why. I was surprised he wasn’t just tossing me out into the cold, sleeting night.
We drove home in an atmosphere so thick you’d have needed a chainsaw to get through it, and I’d never been happier to see my little flat, the lamp I’d left on shining in the window, white fairy lights twinkling a pretty welcome.
‘Thank you,’ I said, my hand already pulling the catch.
‘Wait. I’ll get that,’ he said reaching for his own, but I was already half out of the car.
‘I …’ I looked backup. His hands were on the wheel, the muscles in them as tight as the rest of him. What did I say? What was there to say?
‘Thanks for the lift,’ I repeated, just for something to fill the silence.
He nodded briefly, keeping his eyes front. I deserved that. I’d broken a friendship, and rejected the possibility of having something more, all without giving the man in question any sort of decentexplanation.
Tiny flakes of snow were just starting to drift lazily down as I ran up the stairs to my flat faster than I ever though I could move in heels. I didn’t turn as I got to the top. I didn’t want to see him drive off. Leaving. Instead I just ran inside, pushed the door closed, and leant on it. The low rumble of the engine idled for a few moments before taking the strain, and drivingoff. Waiting until I was safely back inside, he’d left, just as I’d wanted him to. The sound quickly got fainter and I felt like a piece of me had gone with it.
Sliding down the door, I wrapped my coat tighter around me, as though trying to warm away the misery I now felt in my very bones as I thought about the wonderful man and child I’d just successfully pushed away. It was what I wanted, wasn’tit? No more complications? Avoid the heartache – that had been the plan. So if it was such a great plan, why did I feel worse now than I ever had before?
I kicked off my shoes and slowly made my way over to my bed. Lying down, I felt tears tickle my ears as they ran horizontally down my temples. I sprawled out on my back and gave in to the knowledge that the fledgling life I’d started buildinghere – with my family, friends, and with Cal and George – wasn’t meant to be. I should have learned by now.
The whole settling down thing wasn’t for me. I’d tried once before and it had ended painfully, not to mention publicly. What made me think this time would be any different? It wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for people like Giselle and Xander, Mum and Dad, and Dan and Claire. But theuniverse had other ideas for me apparently. Stick to what you’re best at, Lexi, it said. PS: this isn’t it.
I swallowed a hiccup and laid a hand on my aching ribs as the sobs subsided and I became aware of a scratching noise at the door. Rolling my legs over the side of the bed, I pulled myself up like a marionette that needed some serious restringing and padded over to the door, being carefulto avoid even the minutest glance in the antique framed leaner mirror as I passed. I had a pretty good idea of just how awful I looked right now without adding definitive confirmation.
After unlocking the door, I peered out. Apollo was sat under the little porch roof staring up at me as fine snow fell silently around.
‘Hello, boy. In you come then.’ I opened the door enough for him to trot inand then closed it again, throwing the lock. Tiny flakes of snow glistened on the dog’s coat and I grabbed a towel to give him a little rub down. He made appreciative groans as I did his chin and his ears and, despite everything, I felt the faintest of smiles on my face. Resting my head against his, I sat on the floor inelegantly – one leg either side of Apollo’s warm, solid body – and cuddled him.With that innately possessed sense of knowing, the dog moved his head, resting it on my shoulder, and let out a sigh.
‘Yeah, me too, boy,’ I mumbled through the tears that were falling again. Tears for what I’d had and lost and for what I’d never have. For someone who’d spent much of her life determined not to cry in front of others, pretending everything was fine when actually all I wanted todo was bawl, I was most definitely making up for it tonight. I could get knocked flying by a Formula One car and have a bruise from ankle to hip and laugh it off, albeit somewhat painfully. But Cal Martin had left a wound I knew would take me a long time, if ever, to recover from.
