Page 32 of Home This Christmas

TWENTY-SEVEN

I wake up with a jolt to the sound of my phone ringing. When I focus my eyes on the caller display, I can see that it’s Nathan.

‘Nathan, hi.’ I speak drowsily into the phone.

‘You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?’ he asks.

‘I was just having a snooze – although it’s probably wise I didn’t sleep any longer, or I won’t get any tonight.’

‘How’s the headache?’

‘Um, oh much better thanks,’ I reply, although in all honesty, after having two very generous measures of gin of the afternoon, I really do feel a bit sluggish now.

‘Glad to hear it. I was just wondering if you have any plans for this evening?’

‘Not really…’

‘Then would you like to go to dinner? I would kind of like to continue our conversation,’ he says eagerly. ‘I am sure we have a ton of stuff to talk about.’

‘I guess so, and I suppose I do have to eat!’

‘Try and control your enthusiasm,’ he jokes.

‘Sorry, I never meant it that way. And yes, of course I would like to talk to you. How about Roberto’s?’ I suggest.

‘As charming as Roberto’s is, I know a place a short drive from the village. Shall I pick you up at seven?’

A glance at the clock shows four thirty.

‘Why not. See you later then.’

I make myself a coffee, and wonder why Nathan wants to head out to another village.

Could it be because he shows up at Roberto’s with a different woman every weekend?

At least that is if Will Sutton is to be believed.

As I sip my coffee, I almost call Nathan back and tell him I can’t make it after all.

I will meet Nathan later to be courteous and maybe tell him all about my life back in London. Tomorrow, I will be around for the protest and then make my way back to my apartment. This unplanned vacation has gone on for long enough.

I open an email that is inviting me to a party tomorrow evening in Shoreditch. Last-minute invitations often pop up, but usually when someone can’t make it, and last-minute replacement invites are sent out.

I politely decline the invite, realising I am only a week away from Christmas Eve, when I am to review a new restaurant near the Shard.

Suddenly, I miss the glorious views from my apartment, especially at this time of year with magical decorations as far as the eye can see.

Whilst I have some time to spare, I give Mum a call, but it goes straight to voicemail. I am sitting thinking about her, when Sienna texts me from the studio.

Hey, how’s it going? Are you home now?

Not yet. Resting here for a bit. Are u free for a chat?

Yep x

I call Sienna and after asking how the gingerbread competition went, she fills me in on the office gossip, and how an after an impromptu party after work on Monday, two colleagues got together and sloped off to a hotel.

‘Both single, though, so why not?’ She laughs. ‘I’m a bit jealous to be honest; I hate being alone at Christmas.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yeah, not sure why, it just feels a bad sad…’ she admits.

Last year, she was with a guy, but quickly dispensed of him in the new year, when she realised he could not get along with her son, which was, of course, a deal breaker.

‘Fancy being my plus-one at a restaurant on Christmas Eve?’ I ask her. ‘I’m reviewing a new restaurant that has entertainment – see what it has to offer. You never know, there might be some fit single blokes. Then again, I don’t suppose you want to leave your son on Christmas Eve.’

‘It couldn’t be more perfect! We’re staying with my parents on Christmas Eve. They won’t mind if I slip out for a few hours when Liam is in bed.’

‘It’s a date, then.’

‘Ooh can’t wait. And hope your ankle heals soon,’ she says. ‘Even though I can’t imagine you will quite be up to dancing on Christmas Eve.’

‘I shouldn’t think so. Speak soon, then, bye, Sienna.’

‘Thanks, talk soon.’

I freshen up and put on the long dress I bought this morning. I spray some perfume on ready to head downstairs to meet Nathan in reception, when there is a tap on the door.

I open it to find Nathan standing there, and he lets out a low whistle.

‘Wow, you look amazing!’ he tells me, taking in my long green patterned dress that is slightly low cut.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘And you scrub up quite well yourself!’

The truth is, he took my breath away when I opened the door and saw him standing there. Even just wearing smart jeans and a shirt, with a blazer thrown over, he looks heart-stoppingly handsome. No wonder he has women falling at his feet.