She looked up as he approached. “Hey, Gabe. How’s it going?”
He nodded in answer. “Was Isabella upset?”
Lauren frowned, closing her book. “When?”
“You came into this room together, then she announced she was leaving. Had anything happened…?”
“I don’t think so,” Lauren mused. “She did seem a bit quiet when I found her, but only for a moment. I think she was just distracted by her meeting. Have you heard how it went?”
He thought of the email address she’d saved in his phone. Not even a personal one – it was [email protected] , probably monitored by a staff member. The fact he had no easy way to contact her tightened his gut until it hurt. He felt like he’d been filled up with gravel.
“I haven’t heard. But knowing Isabella, I’m sure it was a success.” It was true. He had no doubt that she would have charmed whoever it was she’d been meeting with.
The jealousy caught him completely unawares, ripping through him, so he almost stumbled backwards. The idea of Isabella being out in the world, meeting new people, men, being flirted with, asked out on dates, charmed by whoever the hell she came across made him want to claw at the bricks with his bare hands. What the hell?
“I’m sure it was,” Lauren smiled as though Gabe wasn’t having some kind of emotional breakdown. He couldn’t fathom what was going on, but he felt a nauseating need to be completely alone. Il Nido flashed into his mind.
“So she didn’t say anything?”
“No, not at all. Why? Had you argued?” Lauren pushed.
He frowned. “No.”
“I’m glad. I really liked her, Gabe. I hope we get to see her again.”
Gabe tightened his lips into something like a smile. He knew none of them would ever see Isabella again, but for some reason he couldn’t put that into words.
Il Nido was a disaster. It had been his sanctuary from pain and now it was an instrument of it. She was everywhere he looked. At his coffee machine, in his kitchen, on the sofa, imprinted in every single damned decoration on the tree he’d dragged in for her. In his bedroom. The study. The books. Everywhere.
He groaned, knowing he had to perform an exorcism, needing to rid her spirit from this house. He started with the Christmas tree, removing each decoration with cold finality, a cathartic freedom coming from the act. He placed them in the box one by one, trying not to think about the way they’d decorated the tree together, trying not to think about the way she’d looked as she’d climbed the ladder, trying not to think about Isabella. He poured himself a measure of scotch; that helped blot her from his mind, at least for a few minutes. When he reached the turtle doves, the memories were too strong. He put those decorations on the bench top, staring at them as though they were a talisman to Isabella.
Cristo, he was a mess.
He boxed away the ornaments and then stared at the tree, his anger with it deeply personal. Grabbing it roughly from the bucket, he didn’t worry about rope or gloves, simply shoved his hands around the trunk, glad when pine needles stabbed him and the bark gave him callouses. He dragged it towards the door then threw it onto the snow with an almighty roar, the act powerful, visceral, but nowhere near the exorcism he was hoping for.
His bed smelled like her. The sweet floral fragrance of her shampoo infiltrated his pillows and senses so his body ached for her in a way that made breathing difficult.
He gave up on trying to sleep, poured another scotch then opened up her Youtube channel.
It was probably a mistake, but to hell with it. Perhaps he just needed to wean himself?
A video from Christmas day was the most recent. He stared at the still frame, his heart clunky. He’d had a bit to drink. There was no other excuse for the way he reached out and ran a finger over the screen, touching her face as though it were Isabella in person.
He closed his eyes, imagining she were with him, seeing her smile, groaning into the empty room. Bracing himself to hear her voice, he pressed play.
Hey guys. Merry Christmas! She waved towards the screen. I hope you’re having a festive day, however you choose to spend it. If you’ve been with me for other holidays, you’ll know that Christmas can be a hard day for me. I love everything about it, but I miss my mum, and I miss those family traditions that other people take for granted.
His heart twisted for her. That raw vulnerability was so obvious, he wanted to reach into the screen and kiss her until she felt only desire. He wanted to reach into the screen and draw her into his arms until she smiled again. He hated to think of her sad, missing family.
But not this year!
Finally, a smile!
I’m spending Christmas with –
a pause. Gabe waited, staring at the screen so intently he was surprised he didn’t burn a hole into it.
Someone really special to me, and he’s been kind enough to let me crash his family celebration. It’s amazing, you guys. Everything I’ve always dreamed of, actually. There’s a huge tree and family heirloom decorations, special traditional recipes, carols being played on the piano, and so many cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews, as well as the most inspiring matriarch, his grandmother. And so much love.
She paused again, this one loaded with feeling.
He stared at the screen, his pulse in overdrive.
I feel very lucky this Christmas, and I feel hopeful too. I’ve always known that life can be unpredictable, but I presumed that unpredictability had to tend towards the bad. I had no idea curve balls could sometimes be really, really good too.
She smiled brightly at the screen, and his chest tightened.
So I hope you have something to look forward to this Christmas. I hope you’re happy, I hope you’re
