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Fuck.
I pace into my room, staring at the bed with a strange throb low inside me.
This has got out of hand.
I need her to go back to London so I can get back to my normal life. I need to forget she exists because Jessica is something like kryptonite to me. And just like that, I get it.
I don’t want her to go. I don’t want this to be over. I like what we’re doing and I think she probably feels the same way.
I dig my phone out of my pocket.
Take your time. I’ll wait up.
* * *
It’s almost two when I let myself into the lift of his building and crest all the way to the penthouse. My head is swimming with carols, hymns and eggnog. In my hands I have a little Christmas smorgasbord all for Zach, and plans of setting it out for him in the morning. Pudding, fruit mince pies, shortbread, everything festive, the perfect way to wake up on Christmas morning. And despite the fact I’ll have to be back at my parents’ in time for lunch tomorrow, I’m glad I’m spending the night here. I’m glad I’ll get to wake up with him on Christmas morning.
He’s the only present I could ask for, and definitely the thing I’ll most look forward to unwrapping, I think with a smile.
The dull ache is still there. The knowledge that our time is almost finished, that soon I’ll be leaving and that will be the end. But I refuse to think about it. I refuse to focus on that now.
He’s awake, just as he promised, sitting at the table with a laptop set up, wearing only boxer shorts and looking impossibly gorgeous.
‘You’re still awake.’ I smile, carrying the package of Christmas treats to the kitchen island bench then moving towards him. He stands as I approach, his smile somehow hesitant. Or maybe it’s not. Perhaps it’s just that I know him now, so well, that I understand every nuance that crosses his face.
‘I said I would be,’ he murmurs, putting a hand out. I ignore it and walk into his arms instead, lifting up onto tiptoes and kissing him.
‘Let’s go to bed.’
He frowns. ‘Are you tired?’
I shake my head, impatient for him—all of him that I can possibly get in the few hours we have left. ‘Not even a little bit.’
His laugh is throaty but he shakes his head. ‘Have a drink with me. I want to talk to you.’
‘Oh?’ I pull back, looking up into his face. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He nods, but I have a feeling that it’s not. Something’s wrong. ‘Tea? Coffee? Port? Wine?’
I’ve had enough eggnog to make my head spin. ‘A tea would be perfect.’
I watch as he makes two cups and carries both to th
e lounge room. As an afterthought, I pull out some fruit mince pies and put them on a small plate, bringing them with us. ‘My secret recipe,’ I say as I place them down. ‘Lots of rum.’
He nods in acknowledgement—no smile.
‘What is it, Zach? You’re starting to freak me out.’
He laughs uneasily. ‘Sorry.’ He shakes his head. ‘This is no big deal.’ He frowns. ‘I just wanted to take your temperature on something.’
Is he going to talk about my business again? I brace for that, knowing that I still haven’t made up my mind—it’s impossible to get clarity with Zach in my life. He overpowers everything, all my senses. I’ll be able to breathe again in a day or so. Won’t I? I ignore the dull ache low in my chest.
‘I like being with you.’
The statement draws me back to the present, back to him.
‘I think we’ve established that.’
