Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
EVIE
The cork fired out of the bottle with a satisfying pop. Still wearing my pyjamas, I filled my glass and crossed to the window to look out at the city. I’d always envisioned the way I’d spend Christmas Day from the moment I knew I’d be here.
‘Happy Christmas, Mum. I made it.’ I lifted my glass and looked heavenwards hoping that she was looking down on me. I took a hasty sip to combat the painful twist of my heart. What would she think of me? Noah had made it clear what he thought of me. I sighed. Not thinking about him today.
Would Mum be pleased I’d done all the things we said we’d do? Or might she have wanted more for me?
It was no good. Noah leaving when I wanted him to stay had shown me that I’d been avoiding any kind of permanency.
I sighed. It was long past time that I got some help.
The idea had been haunting the back of my mind ever since the day I’d spoken to Debbie, the stylist at Bloomingdale’s.
She’d talked a lot of sense. I realised that she’d been right, too.
I hadn’t given therapy enough time. A scant few sessions were hardly enough to unpack and process so much emotion.
Grief did funny things to you. It had convinced me that the pain would never be cured and that it was easier to run away from things that reminded me of Mum, or to indulge in the pretend reality we’d created as we’d watched all those films together.
What had I really achieved by coming here?
Living out a fantasy that had been built on desperate hopes and dreams as Mum faded away. This wasn’t real life.
Tears ran down my face. I’d made such a mess of things this year. Coming to New York had been an excuse to avoid Christmas, just like I’d done every year for the last five years.
Except this year, Noah had helped me create some traditions of my own and shown me what Christmas could be like.
I looked over at the gorgeous tree in the room and all the special decorations he’d bought for me.
I moved to stand in front of it, inhaling the scent of pine.
My first real tree. I trailed my fingers over some of the ornaments, my touch releasing a snow globe of memories tumbling through my mind.
Eating hot dogs on the street, mustard on Noah’s very kissable lips, the trip to the Edge where Noah had been the one to support me.
The little yellow taxi, reminding me of Noah humouring me when I insisted on walking instead of hailing a cab.
He’d been unfailingly kind on all of our trips, even when I irritated the hell out of him.
I paused. I did irritate the hell out of Noah.
And no wonder. He was riddled with guilt about injuring Rick Menzies, and I’d insisted on posting pictures on Instagram of him having a good time at every opportunity.
I never really gave him a chance to say no to any of our excursions.
It was hardly surprising he’d bailed at the first opportunity.
I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t as if he’d ever made any promises to me, and it certainly wasn’t as if I’d expected any.
I was too commitment-shy to even give whatever it was between us a name.
Relationship. Friendship. I’d refused to put a label on the simmering, obvious attraction between us because it made things so much simpler.
If he left – it was as expected. People leave you.
Nothing is forever. So, I’d made it easy for Noah to leave by never expecting anything from him or asking him for his view on what was going on between us.
I felt a leaden sensation, hard and heavy as a rock, in my chest. It made it difficult to breath properly, as if I could only draw in three-quarters of the air I needed.
Even though it was the last thing I should be doing, it appeared I needed a full-on wallow in misery, so opened up my Instagram account and looked at my current story – still available.
Not quite twenty-four hours had elapsed since Noah and I had stood under the Christmas Tree at the Rockefeller Center.
I studied the selfie. Noah, complete with cheesy grin pointing to the tree with a double thumbs-up.
I’d captioned it in red lettering – Is this the most iconic tree in New York?
There were so many likes. Our second-highest engagement. Alicia would be delighted, although it would take some going to outdo the toyshop piano reel that had garnered over fifty thousand likes. It seemed you couldn’t beat a spontaneous kiss.
I traced Noah’s smiling face, those amazing blue eyes and put myself back in the moment, remembering the feel of his hands on my waist, pressing his body against mine to protect me from the crowd around us.
I shivered, suddenly cold, and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to combat the sudden pang of loneliness.
It was a good few hours until lunchtime and I was not going to wallow a single second more.
I refused to feel sorry for myself. It was Christmas Day.
I was in New York. In a suite. With my own Christmas tree and presents.
I sat down on the carpet, putting my champagne glass beside me and pulled out the stack of mismatched presents, taking Danny’s first. I’d planned to savour each one and take my time with them but the paper on his gift came apart as soon as I touched it, revealing a pack of Starbucks ground coffee, a glittery thermal mug and two packs of Oreos.
I smiled, thinking of all the times I’d passed him with takeout cups of coffee.
Danny, a sweetheart, who become a familiar face very quickly, greeting me every day.
The next present was wrapped with so much parcel tape that I had a hard time getting into it, which was rather appropriate as it was from Bernard and the maintenance team.
They’d given me a little toolkit that included a tape measure, a screwdriver and a small hammer, along with a roll of duct tape with a sticky label attached, which read ‘in case you take up serial-killing’ which made me laugh.
Carol had bought me an insider’s guide to New York for next time I came back, while Angel had given me a New York keyring and some hair scrunchies made by her daughter.
There were also a couple of boxes of chocolates, a Plaza bathrobe with my name embroidered on it from the whole front desk team, as well as a very fancy New York notepad and pen from Alicia.
Everyone had been so thoughtful and kind.
I decided to keep Mrs Evans’s gorgeously wrapped present to open at the table, glad that I’d also bought her and Monty gifts.
As I pulled her parcel out, I spotted, right at the very back, a blue Tiffany bag. Puzzled, I looked at the label.
To Evie
Merry Christmas. Don’t open before Christmas Day.
Noah x
I drew my knees up to my chest and stared at the bag.
When had he put that there? He must have hidden it earlier in the week. For a moment I wondered if I ought to open it. Maybe he didn’t want me to have it now.
I peeked inside the bag. Inside was a familiar blue box, tied with a white satin ribbon. I took the box out and set it on the carpet. I picked up my champagne and sipped while considering the box with all the caution of an explosives expert studying an unexploded bomb, not daring to touch it.
Would Noah still want me to have this? Where was he? What was he doing? Was he spending Christmas on his own?
Was it a test? He probably just didn’t have time to retrieve the box before he left. With the stress of his injury and the rush to leave, he’d no doubt forgotten it was even there.
Should I return it to him? That would be the responsible, moral thing to do, wouldn’t it? The sort of thing, he would do. I picked up the box and popped it back into the bag. I’d return it via his agent as soon as I got back to the UK. It would be wrong to keep it.
Then I pulled the box out again and gave it a little shake.
There was an enticing metallic rattle. There was no harm in looking, not if I wasn’t going to keep it.
I eyed the perfectly tied white bow on the top of the box that I could never replicate.
No. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of even thinking that I’d been tempted. It was better that I didn’t know.
For a moment, it was tempting to text him and tell him that I’d found it and that I would be returning it. But that would be for my own satisfaction. Me, saying, ‘Here, you were wrong about me. I can do the right thing.’
Before I could change my mind, I stood, picked up the bag and went and put it in my suitcase out of sight and hopefully out of mind.
* * *
I watched half of It’s a Wonderful Life before I showered and put on the Christmas dress that Debbie had insisted I needed.
The dark navy velvet hugged my figure, the dress skimming my legs just above the knee and making me feel glamorous and Christmassy.
Like this was a special occasion. It was nice dressing up, and I was glad I’d listened to Debbie.
She knew her stuff. I put the red bow in my hair for an added festive touch and did my makeup properly for a change.
Funny how clothes could make you feel so much better.
Not only did dressing up give me a purpose but it also heightened the sense of anticipation.
I was looking forward to lunch and all dressed up, doubly so.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ I whispered. She’d been right all along.
I slipped my feet into heels and with one last look in the mirror, I headed down to the dining room to meet Mrs Evans and Monty.