Page 22 of This Christmas
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. The man I was once madly in love with is talking to me about his fiancée. Something tells me this shouldn’t happen. I’m not the one he should confide in.
“I think, somehow . . .” Zane drifts off as looks toward the window again. “I had every intention of coming back.”
“But you didn’t.”
He nods. “I was on my way to the station when my boss, Mr. Bamford, called me into his office. He said there was a group of people I needed to meet. It was urgent, had to be done right away.”
“Was it urgent?”
“Looking back? No. They could’ve waited until Monday.”
Lovely.
“Why’d you change your number?” He asks me, his eye intently focused on mine, as if he might be able to see the truth in there.
“I didn’t,” I tell him. “At least that wasn’t my intention. I broke my phone and because I was on your plan, I needed you to give the okay for the replacement.”
“Only I didn’t answer when you called.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Zane’s quiet for a long time. The only sound he emits is sniffling. I can’t take my eyes off him and while my heart shouldn’t break, it does when I see him wipe at his wet cheeks.
“I sent you money for the rent,” he says without looking at me. “At least that was my intention. I wrote the check, put it in an envelope and set it in my outgoing basket. I’m assuming since you moved you never got it?”
“Yeah, I never received it. If I had, I would’ve stayed, although leaving helped me move on a little from you. I loved the apartment we picked out together, but the memories were too much, even though you never spent a single night there. On my way to tell the landlord I needed to break the lease, he posted an advertisement for a studio on the ground floor. I explained the situation, and he allowed me to move.”
Zane lets out a strangled laugh. “So, what you’re saying is, if I waited a little longer that day, I would’ve run into you.”
“Probably.”
He holds his mug up. “Have anything stronger?”
I go to the kitchen and return with a bottle of Baileys. Zane pours some into his mug and offers me the bottle, which I decline. He drinks it down in one gulp.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“What’s done is in the past,” I tell him. “Now that you’ve visited, be present for your dad.”
“He doesn’t like Caryn.” Zane shrugs. “I didn’t expect him to. He still loves you though, and he told her as such.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not fair to Caryn. She seems like a very nice woman.”
“She is.” He smiles and a part of me hates him for it.
“What does she do for work?”
Zane chuckles. “Not a damn thing. Lives off her parents’ money.”
I expected him to say she worked in fashion, or they met at work. My mouth drops open at his admission, then closes, and Zane smirks.
“Her dad is my boss.” He stares at me for a long moment while those words process. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re smart and can probably figure things out.”
“I could speculate.”
Zane stands, walks to the kitchen, and fills the kettle with water. Every fiber of my being wants to go in there and tell him to sit down. He shouldn’t be comfortable here. We should be in our respective corners, ready to duke it out in a minute.
Instead, I stay rooted on the couch under myChristmas throw, watching him move around my space like he’s been here before. The lovestruck fool I was back in the day rejoices but the practical me screams. I should tell him to leave and not come back. Nothing good can come from him being here.