Last Christmas

Chapter Two

Oh. My. God.

Robert was engaged. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

Silence fell between us after Greta darted away.

‘Congratulations.’ I managed to force out the word even though my insides were frozen and one false move might shatter me into a million pieces.

Robert shook his head. ‘I was going to tell you before you found out through someone else. I figured I owe you that much. But then, well, I wasn’t sure you’d be keen to hear from me.’

You owe me that much, I wanted to scream? Yes, you bloody well did. You owe me that and more for wasting almost fifteen years of my life!

‘So when’s the big day?’ I didn’t want to know, but my survival instinct told me to inflict maximum pain in one go, then let the wound heal. If I didn’t uncover all the details now, the stream of news that trickled down the grapevine over the next few months – or whenever their wedding was – would be like ripping off a scab over and over.

Robert shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, um, actually, it’s Christmas Day.’

The words hit me like a blow. Christmas Day? How could he even contemplate getting married on that day after last year’s events?

Get real, I told myself a heartbeat later. He could contemplate it because what happened didn’t mean anything to him – or, at least, not as much as it did to me. How many times did I need reminding?

‘I’m back.’ Greta snaked an arm around his waist, her eyes sparkling. ‘What did I miss?’

‘I was just telling Lucy about our wedding.’ Robert shuffled his feet awkwardly.

‘Oh my God, I can’t wait. One week to go! It’s going to be perfect. Presents in the morning, married in the afternoon, party in the evening. Hey, listen, why don’t you come to the ceremony? It’s at the hotel right by the London Eye, at four p.m. The more, the merrier.’

I’d rather stab out my eyes with icicles. ‘That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid I already have plans. Some friends and I are holding an epic festive bash.’ The lie slid easily from my mouth, and I wondered where the words had come from. At least it sounded better than my real plans. Next to Robert’s nuptials, my anti-Christmas day of accountancy and cheap wine seemed downright pathetic.

‘Ooh, fun!’ Greta trilled. ‘But such a shame you can’t make it. Enjoy your holidays, and perhaps we’ll see you in the New Year.’

‘Maybe,’ I mumbled, thinking I’d sooner spend time with Blow-Up Santa than my ex and his girlfriend. No, wife.

Robert nodded goodbye and the two of them wandered back into the crowd, Greta excitedly chattering in his ear. An instant later, I lost sight of them.

I stood stock-still, trying to process what had just happened. Robert, the man – the only man – I’d imagined marrying, would become someone else’s husband on Christmas Day. Even though a year had passed since we’d broken up, the hurt still hit me like a hammer to the head. Or heart, I thought, trying to force air into my lungs.

I trudged to the railing, watching the dark water below as my mind spun back to that fateful day. I’d had everything planned to the minute – 12:01 a.m. on December twenty-fifth – when I’d whip out the uber-posh Patek Philippe watch I’d bought, go down on one knee, and ask the love of my life to marry me. In Paris, no less! It had taken some doing to convince Robert to leave England, but when I showed him the swanky hotel I’d booked, along with the delectable buffet they served on Christmas Day, he was won over.