Page 73 of The Christmas Letter

‘Oh, she will love that you think she’s scary. It will literally make her day.’

They kept talking, and she found herself relaxing into the conversation, found that she was able to forget, briefly, about the day she’d had as she enjoyed the wine and the food and Jack’s company. It felt easy, in a way it hadn’t really done with him before – perhaps because there had always been Emma’s presence between them each time they’d spoken. And now that was reversed, because they were both here for Emma, together.

When they’d finished and paid for dinner, Holly led the way back to the hotel, having to rely on her phone to get them there in the maze of the city. She felt better for having eaten and for walking in the evening air, though her body tensed as they drew nearer to the hotel. Here she was, about to settle in for the night, while Emma was in hospital, alone. Not that they’d had any choice about that – they’d had to leave her – but still, she must be so scared, even if she refused to show it.

Holly was quiet as she headed into the reception, Jack behind her. It was dimly lit, the lamps offering a low glow, and their footsteps echoed on the polished stone floor.

Jack let out a low, quiet whistle. ‘Well, this is pretty fancy.’

Holly smiled. ‘Yeah. It was Emma’s pick.’ But saying her name made Holly’s eyes fill with tears, and even as she tried to blink them away, she could feel the heat as one of them escaped to trace a path down her face. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice hitched, and she lowered her face, looking down at her white pumps. But now that they’d started, the tears were only coming faster, even as she tried to wipe them away.

‘Hey, it’s ok.’ Jack’s hand was gentle as he cupped her elbow. ‘Come on. Which room are you in?’

She led the way up the red carpeted stairs, then past wooden shuttered windows along to her room on the first floor, two doors down from Emma’s. Her hands were shaking, and Jack had to take the key, unlock the door for her. She walked inside, putting her key down on the dresser. Then, to her alarm, she started sobbing. Big, racking sobs that took hold of her body, making her feel like she might collapse right there onto the fancy rug and never get up again.

Jack was next to her in an instant, arms coming around her. She went into them without question and pillowed her head on his chest as she continued to cry, unable to stop. He stood there, stroking her back gently.

‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed, her breath hitched. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

‘Nothing’s wrong with you,’ he said, still stroking her back.

‘It’s just . . . I called my sister earlier and it was . . . Well, it was not good and she still hates me and then Emma and I—’

‘Shhh,’ he said gently. ‘It’s ok. You’re ok.’ He manoeuvred them so they were sitting on the end of the bed, Holly curled into his lap, still crying against his t-shirt. And he just held her. Held her and said nothing, letting her cry it all out.

Eventually, her sobs subsided into a few gentle hiccups. As she grew quiet, she grew aware of where she was, and what she was doing. Sitting on Jack’s lap, curled up like a toddler, her face buried against his shirt, which was now wet from her tears. She drew back and peered up at his face.

His hands were stroking her back, a comforting caress, but as their gazes met, they grew still. She bit her lip. What must she look like? They were so close, their faces inches from one another. He seemed to realise it at the exact same moment – she could feel his heart kick into gear alongside hers, could sense the way his breathing shifted. He ran one of his hands to her waist, brought the other to her jaw, and gently wiped away the one remaining tear on her face with his thumb. He kept his hand there, cupped against her face, and her skin heated.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered again.

‘Don’t be.’ And the way he was looking at her did not make her feel like she was red and blotchy – though surely she must be. His fingers curled in at her waist, and she felt an answering pulse of heat. But then he dropped his hand away from her face and eased back, with what little space he had, given she was still sitting on his lap.

‘Well,’ he said, his voice a little raspy, ‘I guess I’d better go and see if they’ve got a room for the night. Or know of anywhere that might have one.’

She felt her breath come out on a whoosh as she stood up, too quickly, too awkwardly. He stood too, didn’t look at her as he started towards the door.

‘Jack?’ She spoke before she could think too much about it. ‘Why don’t you stay here for the night?’

He turned to face her.

‘Just to sleep, I mean,’ she added quickly. ‘It’s only that I doubt you’re going to be able to get a room. It’s August in Venice and this place was booked months ago, and I suppose you could use Emma’s room but that might be . . .’

He grimaced, nodded. Then he hesitated before saying, ‘Ok. Yeah. If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’ She wondered if he guessed that she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She left him fumbling around his tiny rucksack and headed to the ensuite bathroom to brush her teeth, wash her face – which was red and blotchy – and change into her pyjamas. She tried not to feel self-conscious about the fact that they were her skimpy summer ones – shorts and a vest top – as she came back into the bedroom.

Jack had stripped down to his boxers and a fresh t-shirt and was lying on the bed. He was concentrating on his phone, a bit too intensely for it to be entirely real, Holly thought as she crossed the room and clambered up on the bed next to him. With the air-con on she’d still only needed a sheet over her at night but now, with the heat of Jack’s body next to her, she doubted she’d need even that. There were red curtains you could pull around the bed, but Holly left them untouched, feeling it might create an intimacy that neither of them would be able to handle. She fluffed up her white pillows instead and lay down with her head just skimming the wooden headboard. Neither of them said anything, though Holly heard Jack put his phone down on the table next to him.

‘Ok if I switch out the light?’ she asked, feeling the need to whisper.

‘Sure.’

She reached out and flipped the switch on the wall next to her – it was one of the fancy rooms where you could control all the lighting from the bed as well as the doorway. The blinds over the stained-glass windows were still open, but night had well and truly fallen, and the room fell into darkness. Even now, tired after the day she’d had, she could feel the weight between them, the way it made her skin prickle, every inch of her aware of every inch of him. Maybe it had been a bad idea, asking him to stay – how was she supposed to sleep?

‘You ok?’ Jack murmured.

‘Yeah.’ She turned on her side, facing away from him and trying to get comfortable. But she moved too much and her side collided with Jack’s elbow. She made a face into the dark. ‘Sorry.’