time, so it’s not hanging over you, and we can make a fresh start.’
The thought was incredible appealing.
No more money worries, no more damp flat. Someone who would look after her, who would offer her security, someone she knew, who she could fall back into a routine with.
It sounded like bliss, and she knew it would be crazy to consider turning him down.
But… But still, for all of that, she couldn’t make her mouth form the words to accept it.
‘What do I have to do to convince you?’ he urged.
‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly, honestly. ’I just can’t see how I can move back in, how we can just pick it up as if nothing has happened. After a year, you just ride up on your white horse and solve everything?’
He let out a growl of frustration and signalled the tuxedoed barman for another cocktail.
She knew she complained about her job, but didn’t everyone? And she wasn’t that miserable. The thought of jacking it in was appealing though. She pressed her fingers down on the table, knowing Christian was waiting for an answer. If she quit her job, she would lose her independence again, and wouldn’t see Zack, wouldn’t get to have morning coffee or lunch with him or whinge when a nightmare customer made her want to bang her head against the wall and offer surrender.
She would miss that, she really would.
She would miss him.
Damn it.
‘I know I wasn’t that supportive when your mum died.’ Christian muttered. ‘And I am sorry about that.’
‘Not lost her? You can actually say died now?’ she demanded, alluding to their argument, the one right before the accident.
He at least had the grace to look ashamed. ‘I made some mistakes.’
‘You gave me three days and then bought me a four thousand pound handbag to ‘cheer me up’ before telling me to pull myself together.’
She could still hear the echo of their conversation now, over a year down the line.
***
‘You’ve lost your Mum,’ Christian said, slinging his briefcase on the white sofa, ‘I do understand that, and I know it’s hard. But I really think that putting on something nice and wearing some make-up,’ he gestured to her bare face and swollen red-rimmed eyes, ‘will make you feel better. Besides, I’ve got that dinner tonight and need you with me. It’ll be expected. In a few days’ time I’ll be losing you for a week to go and help your dad make the necessary arrangements. Come on,’ he said, ignoring her gobsmacked silence, ‘people lose other people all the time. It’s part of life. It happens.’
She gaped, mouth open, unable to articulate any words.
‘Well?’
‘I didn’t lose her Christian. We haven’t gone shopping and got momentarily separated. She’s dead. I will never see her again.’ She spoke through clenched teeth, sobs rising up in her throat. ‘Do you understand that? And yes, people die, but she wasn’t supposed to go for years. When your parents get old you know you’re going to have to deal with at some point but not when they’re in their mid-sixties, and die of a massive, sudden heart attack.’
The argument had gone on for half an hour after that, until, exhausted and wracked with grief, she’d run out of their flat with no shoes or coat on, no handbag or belongings. Christian had pursued her, calling her name, but she’d been in such a state she’d sprinted across the road and into the path of a car. She remembered the impact, the feeling of pressure, the sound of crunching glass, the poor driver’s alarmed face, but she didn’t really remember any pain. That came later, when she woke up in hospital to be told her leg was broken and she’d fractured three ribs on one side. Ribs that, as it turned out, never healed entirely right.
The recovery period in hospital gave her time apart from Christian. Hours of staring at light green walls, or gazing at mindless TV, reassessing her life. She hadn’t meant to run out in front of the car, it hadn’t been some death wish to join her mum, she’d just been careless and driven by loss. But the accident did give her space and distance. Enough of a breather that when Christian came to pick her up, she told him she wasn’t going home with him, would never go home with him again. He’d let her down too badly and the last few weeks had changed her too much. She wasn’t happy with him, with their life together.
***
‘I am sorry,’ he repeated, lifting his second cocktail and gesturing for her to do the same, ‘really. Give me another chance. What do you say?’
‘I’m sorry too. I know the way I broke up with you, how sudden it was, must have been hard. And what you’ve done today, the letters and hunt, are incredibly romantic. If you have genuinely changed, maybe-’
The sound of Christian’s ring tone interrupted her answer, and several nearby customers gave him and Frankie dirty looks.
He glanced at the screen. ‘I need to get this. Apologies, I’ll be back in thirty seconds.’
She gaped after his departing back. Or he hadn’t changed at all. Taking a sip of her cocktail she rooted around in her bag, finding a brief Ok, Good Luck x text from Kate. She selected another unopened message.
Hey, weird girl! Just to say Happy New Year, whatever you’re doing tonight. See you in 2015! Z x
No matter what, Zack always made her smile. Could she say the same about Christian? But did she want, or need, either of them in her life? And if she did, in what role?
She drained her cocktail, feeling light-headed and a bit drunk, on top of the champagne in the limo earlier. Christian had been gone a lot longer than thirty seconds. What on earth was he doing? Signalling to the waiter to keep their table, she wandered out into the main lounge area, creeping up behind Christian as he sat in a winged chair, in animated conversation on the phone.
‘Yes, it worked, she loved it, said it was really romantic. Yes, I’ll send the bank transfer later tonight. I’ll be recommending the service to my friends. Thank you.’
‘You didn’t organise this yourself?’ Frankie’s outraged voice made Christian jump and he fumbled his phone, dropping it on the floor.
Scrambling to pick it up, he turned around. ‘Frankie, what are you doing out here?’
‘Finding out that you haven’t changed at all apparently,’ she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Same old Christian, throwing his money around. Whoever that was, they wrote all the clues, right? Picked everything out?’
‘It’s the thought that counts.’
‘When you put the effort in yourself, not when you pay someone else to do it for you!’ She could see from the look on his face that he just didn’t get it. And she didn’t think he ever would. ‘Tell me what really happened. Why aren’t you in Bali? It’s not like you to give up a trip like that.’ She stepped right into his space, eyeballing him. ‘You may as well be honest. You’ve blown this anyway.’
‘But what about the dress and the earrings? What about dinner? I’ve booked a table.’
‘That’s your problem, not mine.’ A tingling feeling ran over her shoulders, like a weight she hadn’t known she’d been bearing had lifted away. ‘I felt bad about ending things the way I did,’ she shared, ‘and I’m sorry if I hurt you and this is some odd the one that got away thing you’re doing, but I’ve changed. And I don’t think you’re ever going to.’
Christian’s face tightened. ‘You didn’t hurt me that badly, don’t worry. My girlfriend and I broke up last week and I didn’t care to go alone, that’s all.’
‘So you had a gap to fill?’
‘No! I’m