Page 92 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

‘Oh?’ Daisy’s hope faded.

‘Because it’s Christmas, and at Christmas you go all out, regardless of the circumstances.’

‘So this is … what are you saying?’

‘You live in London, Daisy. You belong with people like Lars, people who are glamorous and ambitious, and that’s not me.’

‘I’m not glamorous,’ she said, her panic rising. ‘I come from Mistingham, just like you.’

‘But you’re not staying here. This was always temporary. And isn’t it better if we end things now, before Christmas, instead of pointlessly prolonging them until you go? Smiling and laughing at the ball, pretending the fairy tale is real when it’s not.’

‘Avery—’

‘You’re the prince, and I’m Cinderella.’

‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I care about you. We’re the same in so many ways. Fuck my shiny ponytail, honestly. I’m much happier with my hair loose, in scruffy jeans and boots, chasing Felix.’

He gave her a sad smile. ‘For how long? How long until you get bored of Mistingham and the endless grey sea? How long until you’re bored of me?’

Daisy swallowed. ‘I won’t—’

‘I will never forget what you did for me. I won’t forget this.’

‘You’re talking like this is the end of some terrible, sad film.’ She flung her arms up. ‘I’m right here. I’m here now, with you.’

‘For another week? A few more days?’

Daisy opened her mouth to answer, but could she say it? Her mind was still whirring, she hadn’t had time for her thoughts to settle, and even if she knew, if she was sure, there was so much to sort out. So many people to talk to, to ask things of.

But her pause was answer enough for Avery. He squeezed her shoulder and turned away, putting his hard hat on. ‘I need to get back,’ he called over his shoulder, and Daisy didn’t know how to reply.

She didn’t know how to digest what had just happened, everything that Avery had said. Except she knew that he’d been sent away when he was little, that he looked after himself by being alone, relying on nobody, so maybe this was his way of protecting himself. She was leaving, so it was best if he cut things off completely, on his terms.

Daisy walked down the alley, to where people were clustered around the crocodile, but it was too early for the phosphorescent paint to show. She wrestled with the heavy barrier, cutting her hand on a rough bit of plastic as she finally pushed it out of the way, then shoved it back into place.

Keeping her head down, she hurried past the treasure hunters, the twinkly village green with its oak tree and the quaint village hall, and honestly, fuck Lars for doing this to them. She hadn’t made up her mind about her future, but she had planned for a perfect Christmas. She had imagined the scene where Avery admitted that he’d been thinking of her when he’d created his treasure hunt, pictured the days leading up to it full of mulled wine and snuggling by the fire together; games with Harry, Sophie and May; giddy ball preparations.

‘The ball!’ She said it out loud, coming to a halt on the edge of the village, a few people looking at her with raised eyebrows. She had to put the finishing touches to her ball, get the manor ready to receive their guests. She had her beautiful dress and dreams of putting nobody but Avery on her dance card, dancing with him all evening and taking him up to her room at the end of the night.

She’d ordered him a Sheffield Eye Witness pocketknife, personalized with a hardwood handle, that he could use on all his future builds. She’d planned on giving it to him as the sun rose on Christmas morning, with coffee and pancakes in bed, a grown-up version of stockings.

She had planned her Christmas here with Harry and Sophie, but also with Avery. She had allowed herself to indulge in the anticipation of it, even though the future was uncertain. They both knew their secret holiday kiss had become a whole lot more, and that it was a scary thing to admit. But while she was coming to terms with it, accepting that her life was going in a wildly different direction to the one she had expected, Avery had stuck to the brief. It was just a holiday fling, it wasn’t going to last, so it was better to rip the plaster off and end it before it got too hard.

The only problem was, Daisy was already committed to him. Even though he’d done the sensible thing, had probably been the adult in their relationship by recognizing the truth of their situation, she didn’t want it. She had planned her perfect Christmas with Avery, and she wasn’t prepared to lose it.

Fuck him saying he was Cinderella – she looked better than him in a dress. He was easily good enough for her – if not too good – and she wasn’t going to let it stand. She had a ball to plan, arrangements to put in place. She needed to show Avery that, even though she had once found Mistingham miserable – that she had, when she was a teenager, committed to leaving it behind forever – she had changed. She needed to prove to him that he was the prince, he was her prince, and that if she belonged with anyone, it was him.

It was time for Daisy to get organized.

Chapter Thirty

In the daylight, with sun streaming through the windows, the ballroom looked magnificent. The swathes of fabric Daisy had bought from Vea’s craft shop hung like curtains over the walls, shimmering waterfalls in burnt gold, silver and raspberry pink. The paper chains added a retro touch that contrasted with the opulence of the room, and the Christmas tree in the corner, with its elegant baubles, its pine cones and mistletoe sprigs from the estate – Lucy’s idea, which Daisy had happily adopted – brought the whole thing together.

They had laid trestle tables down the left-hand side of the room, had hired crockery and glasses that complemented the vintage cake stands, and had a long list of villagers who had agreed to bring a pot-luck buffet dish. She hadn’t worked out how to have a fake snow or bubble machine without ruining the food – she couldn’t trust guests to keep it covered all night, even if they had pots with lids – but after her and Avery’s kiss at the Forum, she had gone online and ordered a paper snowflake cannon with express delivery. It could be used strategically, fired above the dance floor and away from the food, and would add an extra, Christmassy element to the evening.

Despite all that, Daisy wrinkled her nose at the space in front of the large windows, because her idea for a magnificent centrepiece had never come together. With everything that had happened – Lars’s café and her proposal for Mary and Winnie, with Avery and getting caught up in Mistingham life – she had done nothing.

‘It looks great,’ Harry said, coming to stand next to her. ‘Really … twinkly.’