When she uncovers his plan to lead an entirely uneventful life, Mia Evian is determined to teach Preston Maddox how to stop living like a ghost, but Mia and Preston have history, tension, and a lot of complicated feelings.
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Christmas is around the corner and cracks are beginning to show in my newfound lust for a love life. Things are going well with Nick; they're slow, but there's nothing wrong. I've even been on a few other dates with guys, all of which have proved to me that I should focus on Nick. The trouble is that the snail's pace of our relationship is on me. It's been over a month since we had our first date and we remain unlabeled, and our intimacy hasn't progressed anywhere beyond a few heated kisses.
It's like there's a total mental block happening. I can feel myself drawing back as things turn increasingly serious, and it's making me want to punch myself in the face. Repeatedly. I'm home for two weeks over Christmas, and so the hope is that some breathing space and distance will kick me into getting over myself.
The only thing floundering more than my love life is convincing Preston that reaching out to his dad isn't the worst idea known to humankind. Something he'd not told me before he read the letter was that Rhys knows nothing about his past. As far as he's concerned, Preston's been living peacefully with Anwen and Matty all these years.
Preston's rented a car for the Christmas journey home because that worked out cheaper than buying return train tickets. I'm blasting a Christmas playlist via the car's bluetooth, which he's agreed to so long as I specifically play Boney M.'s Sunny every five songs. He's also refusing to close the driver's side window, despite it being under ten degrees outside. Unsurprisingly, he took my fucking weirdo accusation as a compliment.
'I'm just saying you don't have to commit to anything,' I shout over I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday. 'You can make initial contact, then take it day by–'
He clenches his jaw, then sighs. 'How would I even attempt to approach the situation?'
'Preston, you've got nothing to be ashamed of,' I reassure him. 'I know you're intent on taking your past to your grave with you, but you don't have to. None of what you've been through is anything to be ashamed of.' I soften my eyes as he slows the car when we approach a junction. 'Just be honest with him.'
He sighs again, his clenched jaw softening, and I think I've done it. I think I've actually gotten through to him. That is, until he opens his mouth.
'Hey, Dad, I killed my little brother's father when I was thirteen, let Mum take the blame and go to prison for five years, tried to kill myself when I was eighteen, confessed to the murder–'
'–Manslaughter–'
'–and went to prison for fifteen months. Uni's fun, though.'
'Nailed it. Obviously, that's what I'm suggesting; tell him exactly like that, word for word,' I deadpan as we speed up again.
Preston's reaction to my sarcasm is to blast the music's volume up, just as Sunny starts playing for, I think, the fourteenth time.
Our first stop is Mum's house. Through barefaced lies and strategic planning, I've managed to limit my nights spent at Dad's while I'm home to two. He thinks I'm only home for five days, and he's got me from mid-afternoon on Christmas Day, so that's kept him sweet. Livvy's sworn herself to secrecy and Mum's hardly going to rat me out, so I'm spending the other twelve nights with her.
