‘I’ll pass it on, but I can’t guarantee he’ll listen. And I’m sorry we aren’t going to be with you, but I’m really glad Georgie is. And her little boy. You’ll have so much fun together. How old is he?’
‘Two. He’s two—well, two and a bit.’ The same age I was...
His mother sucked in a breath. ‘Oh, Sebastian! He’s going to love it! I remember your first Christmas with us—’
‘Mum, I’ve got to go. I’m expecting a call. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
He ended the call abruptly and put the phone down, and then swivelled the chair to find Georgie standing there watching him thoughtfully.
‘What’s not going to happen?’
‘Us,’ he said shortly, and put Josh back on his feet. ‘What can I do for you?’
She could think of a million things, none of which he’d want to hear and all of them disastrous for her emotional security. ‘Nothing. I was looking for Josh and I heard him crying. What happened?’
‘He stood up under the desk. He’s fine now, aren’t you, little guy?’
Josh nodded, and she held out her hand to him. ‘Lunch is ready when you are,’ she told Sebastian. ‘Come on, Josh. Let’s go and have something to eat.’ And she left him to follow them in his own time.
* * *
Great. His mother must have heard Josh cry and asked who he was, which would have opened a whole can of worms.
She’d have to apologise for that because it was her fault, of course, for letting Josh run off like that, but she’d been busy rescuing the biscuits from the Aga and one minute he was there and the next he was gone.
Interestingly, though, it sounded as if his mother, unlike hers, wanted them back together. Well, as he’d said, it just wasn’t going to happen. It was so not going to happen! Been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it.
And so did he, and from the sound of his voice he wasn’t any more keen than she was. He’d certainly cut his mother off short when she started asking questions about Josh.
She towed him back to the kitchen and shut the door to keep him there so he didn’t cause any more havoc, and sat him down at the table. She’d made cheese and caramelised onion chutney sandwiches, a big pile of them, and there were little golden brown trees and stars cooling on a wire rack on the worktop.
There were even a few failures. Sebastian would be pleased. Or he would have been. Now, with his mother sticking her oar in and putting him on the defensive, things might not be so jolly. She sucked in a deep breath when she heard the door open and forced herself to smile.
‘You got lucky,’ she told him. ‘Some of the gingerbread trees were cracked so we can’t use them for decorations. And I found some packets of stock cubes which would make perfect tree ornaments if I wrapped them up. Can you spare them for a few days?’
‘Probably. You could take some out just in case we need them, but no, that’s fine, go for it.’ And dropping into a chair, he picked up a sandwich and bit into it. ‘Nice bread.’
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, don’t look at me, I just raided the kitchen. It was entirely your PA’s choice. I suggest you give her a substantial bonus.’
‘I already did.’
She laughed and shook her head, then put the kettle on again to make tea and sat down opposite him. ‘I’m sorry I let Josh give me the slip. It must have been—awkward with your mother.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You know what she’s like.’
‘I do. She loves you, though, even though you fight with her all the time. You do know that?’
‘Of course I know that.’ He frowned and pushed back his chair. ‘Look, I’ve got work to do, so I might just take a pile of sandwiches and disappear into my study. I’ll see you later.’
Oh, great, she’d driven him out. It wasn’t hard. All she had to do was mention his mother and it was enough to send him running. She felt her shoulders drop as he left the room, and let out a long, slow breath.
They’d agreed to spend Christmas together and ignore the past for Josh’s sake, but the past just kept getting in the way, one way or the other, and tainting the atmosphere, as if it was determined to have its say.
She looked out of the window, but the snow was still there, and it was even snowing again lightly, just tiny bits of dust in the air. Was it ever going to thaw so they could escape?
Not nearly soon enough. She cleared the table, gave it a wipe and smiled at her son.
‘Are you going to help me ice the decorations for the tree?’ she asked, but he was more interested in eating them, so she gave him a pile of little bits to keep him occupied and piped white ‘snow’ onto the trees and the stars through the snipped-off corner of a sandwich bag, which seemed to work all right until it split and splodged icing on the last one.
She saved it for Sebastian and took it in to him with a cup of tea, knocking on the open door before she went in.
He didn’t seem to be working. He was sitting with his feet on the corner of the desk, his fingers linked and lying loosely on his board-flat abdomen, and he glanced at her and frowned.
‘Sorry. My mother just got to me.’
‘Don’t apologise. It was my fault for not keeping a closer eye on Josh. Here. I messed up one of the biscuits. I thought you might like it, and I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’
‘Thanks.’
He dropped his feet to the floor and sighed. ‘I wish this damn snow would clear,’ he muttered, and she gave a short laugh.
‘I don’t think there’s any chance. I think it’s got it in for us. It was snowing again a moment ago.’
‘I noticed.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s Josh?’
‘Eating broken biscuits.’
‘I thought they were mine?’
‘You walked out, Sebastian.’
‘Well, it makes a change for it to be me.’
She sucked in a breath, took a step back and turned on her heel and walked away. She got all the way to the door before she stopped and turned back.
‘I didn’t walk out,’ she reminded him. ‘You drove me out. There’s a difference. And if you had the slightest chance, you’d do it again, right now. But don’t worry. The moment the snow clears, I’ll be out of here, and you’ll never have to see me again.’
‘Wait.’
His voice stopped her in the doorway, and she heard the creak of his chair as he got up and crossed the room to her.
She could feel him behind her, just inches away, unmoving. After a moment his hands cupped her shoulders, but he still didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just stood there and held her, as if he didn’t quite know what to say or do but wanted to do something.
She turned and looked up into his eyes, and they were troubled. Hers probably were, too. Goodness knows there was enough to trouble them. She let her breath out on a long, quiet sigh, and lifted her hand and touched his cheek, making contact.
Even though he’d shaved that morning she could feel the tantalising rasp of stubble against her palm, and under her fingers his jaw clenched, the muscle twitching.
‘I’m