What the hell was wrong with me?
Showing her that her powerful words had changed my relationship with my mother was one thing. But this...?
Hell, I hadn’t even got around to telling her why we celebrated Christmas on the twenty-fourth instead of on the traditional Christmas Day we used to celebrate in England.
She started to walk away. I held on. ‘Wait. There’s something I need to tell you...’
‘You want to give me more of the same, you mean?’ Her voice was ragged, her face still tight.
‘I’m sorry. Dammit, that came out wrong. So fucking wrong.’
She held my gaze for a blazing moment. ‘I can’t leave without appearing rude. I can’t order you to take me away from here because that would make me a bitch who’s stealing the precious son away at Christmas. So I guess I’m fully immersed in your little experiment, aren’t I?’
Without waiting for my response, she darted into the living room, the centre of revelry. For the rest of the evening, she placed at least half a room width between us, finding an excuse to distance herself whenever I got close.
If my mother and stepfather noticed, they decided on diplomatic silence. Merete, my sister, however, repeatedly shot me questioning glances, which I silently warned her not to vocalise.
Merete tended to shoot her mouth off before she engaged her brain. As much as I loved her, I wasn’t in the mood to accommodate her adorable foibles tonight.
Not when I could feel the woman who’d gained monumental importance in my existence slipping through my fingers. The loud, obnoxious gong sounded for dinner. I rushed to my feet, crossed the room towards Graciela.
She ignored me, turning instead to Mikkel, Merete’s five-year-old son, who’d spent most of the evening gazing at her in wide-eyed adoration. ‘Would you like to show me where I’m sitting, Mikkel?’
He nodded eagerly, and I couldn’t help the bite of jealousy I felt towards my nephew. I followed, my spirits sinking lower when I clocked the place-settings.
I was seated as far away from Graciela as possible, next to Merete. I gritted my teeth, suspecting my sister had been instrumental in the arrangements.
Short of making a scene, I had to let it go.
Dinner was a loud, boisterous affair. But Graciela picked at her meal, offering a shallow smile as my sister peppered her with questions. I wasn’t surprised when she excused herself the moment the second course was cleared away, to go to the bathroom. I stared at her back as she disappeared down the hallway, refocusing on my family when the throat cleared loudly. My mother was staring at me, her gaze a mixture of curiosity and sympathy.
‘Whatever’s going on, son, you need to fix it. Fast.’
I nodded, a curious little lump in my throat as I contemplated hunting her down again. Going down on my knees to beg forgiveness. I didn’t give a fuck who saw me. But perhaps it was best to give her a little time to cool down?
Five minutes later she hadn’t returned, and my foot was bouncing again.
Bloody hell.
Was it supposed to be this complicated? Was reaching for the most perfect thing I’d ever experienced supposed to be this hard?
I snorted under my breath. Of course it was. I’d nearly lost a couple of fingers climbing mountains all over the world. But regardless of how treacherous and agonising the climb, it was worth it every single time once I reached the summit. That kind of euphoria was indescribable.
It might have backfired spectacularly today, but there was always tonight. And tomorrow.
Cold, misery-filled shivers rippled down my body as I sat through the rest of dinner. They continued to surge, drowning out the sound of merrymaking until only my mother’s voice remained in my head.
He’s trying to prove his point. You’re a charity case. The poor little rich girl he’s taken pity on because he’s got nothing better to do. You read his invitation and allowed yourself to dream. Deep down you know you’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.
I barely heard Jensen making his excuses to his family. Barely registered that we were leaving when he approached, my jacket in his hand. I held myself stiffly as he helped me into it. Desperately holding onto the last reserves of composure as I said my goodbyes.
In silence, we walked out to the car in the freezing cold.
I felt his penetrating gaze on my face as I slid into my seat, through the tense drive back to his apartment. My heart thudded dully as I walked through his front door.
A few hours ago, I’d been elated that he was sharing his private space with me. Just as he’d shared his cabin in Alaska. This was a bigger deal, of course. And, contrary to the guard I’d wanted to place around this whole visit, I’d fallen in love with his apartment the moment I walked in.
It wasn’t so much the stunning view outside the glass windows, but the testaments to his brilliance scattered everywhere. He loved what he did and wasn’t afraid to show it. He didn’t need to brag about his talent. The evidence was everywhere. His apartment felt like home in a way that I hadn’t felt at home anywhere else for a very long time.
But...it turned out I was deluded. I glanced at my case, sitting there on the floor, waiting to be scooped up again sooner rather than later.
Stomach in miserable knots, I went towards it. ‘I’m going to stay in a hotel tonight.’
He grunted an angry sound, one of the first I’d heard him make. ‘No, you’re not. This is insane. You don’t need to leave, Graciela. Let’s talk about this.’
I turned on him, anguish and fury boiling inside me. ‘Again with the talking? Fine. Admit what you hoped to achieve by taking me to your parents’ tonight.’
He stalled for a moment and then his lips firmed. ‘For most of my childhood we celebrated Christmas the English way,
