Page 79 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas

My heart collapses into my belly. I might throw up. Frost, Acton, and Isaacs is one of the most notoriously ruthless firms undermining environmental progress in the last thirty years.

“Choices made in parallel, Jake? Your firm actively promotes using corporate courts against governments trying to take climate action. For profit. It’s literally not possible for our professional lives to be more different.”

“It’s not my firm,” Jake says. “Why is it easier for you to believe that’s the real me, rather than the man you’ve known this month?”

“I have no idea who you are. How you could … participate in what that firm does. Was the nonprofit a lie?”

“No.”

“Then what, Jake? Make it make sense.”

His jaw flexes like he’s trying to chew his words into something more palatable. “He played you, like he plays everyone and everything else. There’s no winning with him, Evie.”

“How do you know?” I fire back. “Have you even tried?”

Jake clenches and unclenches his hands. “I’ve spent the last three years trying to get out.”

“You try until you succeed. That’s how it works.”

“Ah. Is that how it works? Is that why you’re running like a frightened mouse?”

“This isn’t my fight.”

“So your spine is situational, is it?”

“Yes.” I raise my chin, defiant now. “I’m not equipped to go head-to-head with a man like your father.”

“Neither was I, Evie.” It’s the first time Jake has ever raised his voice when he’s spoken to me. There’s more than frustration in it. It’s pain. He closes his eyes, resetting. Steadier, he says, “From the time I was old enough to understand it, my father always made it clear what my place was. Eldest son. The legacy. I was assigned it, Evie. And after Mum divorced him, I accepted it, because it meant I could take care of her and my siblings. School, debt, all the problems they never realized they never had. Including him. My siblings have never had to deal with him the way I have. Because I have.”

I back towards a wall, out of the way of the people around us. Jake follows. He catches me by the arm when my heel gets stuck in a crack in the sidewalk, and I stumble. He pulls me gently to him, and I let him take me. Like the night I fell on the ice at Somerset House, he angles his body to shield me from the flow of pedestrians.

“I told you the truth about Juno.” Jake mirrors my steps, keeping me close. “She isn’t my fiancée. We were never together.”

“I believe you.”

“And about my father?” When I nod, he says, “So you’re not angry?”

“I’m not angry, Jake. I’m sad.” I curve my hands around his lapels. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“Tell me, then.”

“This is all too big for me. The scale of your life—” A tear slips loose, glittering for a moment on the sequins of my sleeve before soaking in. “Juno is like … a symbol. People like her belong in your world. Not me.”

Night wind comes in from the north, scattering the waves of his hair. God, this would be so much easier if he were a little less beautiful. I hook both my hands around the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. His mouth trembles against mine. “I fell in love with you, Jake. I tried not to. But you had to make it so damned impossible.”

He inhales, sharp and ragged. “I love you too, Evie. Thank god—”

I drop my grip on his coat. “No.” I pull away. “Let me go.”

Confusion clouds his face. “I thought you weren’t angry.” He stiffens, but he lets me go.

“I’m not. I wish I was. It would make this easier.”

“Wait.” He looks at me like I’m holding a stick of dynamite in one hand and a lit match in the other. “Make what easier?”

“I’ve just been borrowing this life. Borrowing London.” I take a step back. I’m afraid if he touches me again, I’ll scatter like a windblown dandelion. “Borrowing you.”

There’s a black cab nearby on the street now. Empty.