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Because the more the hive of activity moved around me, the deeper my loneliness had steeped.
The inter-family group email that someone industrious had set up a while ago was the first of many
joy-shrivelling emails waiting to pounce on my vulnerable state when I fired up my laptop. Every
single one of them involved some family member crowing about their personal success.
Apparently Gideon and his wife, Leonie, Damien and his new wife, and Bryce and Savannah were
planning on spending the holiday season cruising the Mediterranean on the family’s yacht. The
invitation had been extended for anyone who wanted to join, of course, but last thing I wanted was to be a fifth, sixth or seventh wheel.
There was another email from Bryce, mildly berating me for my unavailability, and informing me
of his engagement to Savannah. Apparently he’d tried to call several times in the last few days but had been unable to reach me to give me the good news.
Even while my heart had soared with happiness for him and Savvie, the depth of my despairing
loneliness intensified. When we’d met up in Singapore a few months ago at the opening of Savannah’s flagship lingerie store, he’d looked just as miserable as I felt. But evidently, he’d worked through his differences with Savvie.
Christmas was less than two weeks away. The thought of spending it with my dysfunctional
collection of back-stabbing, acid-tongued family members filled me with dread.
...run away because you’re scared...
My fingers shook over the mouse as Jensen’s words struck hard and deep.
I’d been burned more than a few times, but...had some of that been of my own doing? Had I
deliberately held myself up to the flame, just to see if I’d burn? For once, would it hurt to see what happened if I stepped back? Perhaps feel warmth instead of flames?
Before my courage deserted me, I pushed away thoughts of Christmas in a cabin in the wilds of
Alaska and fired off emails to Gideon and Bryce, tentatively accepting their invitation to join them for New Year. I could always change my mind later.
‘Give me five minutes, I’ll grab your coffee,’ Elsa said.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t want coffee, thanks.’
Her eyes widened at the uncharacteristic refusal. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you.’ She didn’t need to know that I only wanted coffee from one person. I
didn’t even care that Jensen hadn’t given a shit about achieving the optimal temperature for his coffee.
He’d served it with a blinding smile, a mouth-watering, naked torso and eyes filled with the desire to please his mistress that touched my soul.
Elsa frowned. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Maybe tea?’ she said hesitantly, anxiety
filming her eyes, as if she was afraid I’d say yes and confound her further.
‘No, thanks. Do you have any messages for me?’ I said, striving to keep my voice calm.
She looked down at the leather binder she always carried and back up at me. ‘Nothing that can’t
wait—’