Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
EVIE
‘Here you go, dear,’ said Reine passing me one of the pristine napkins. ‘Wipe your tears.’
‘Thank you.’ I sniffed and used the pure white damask to dab at my face. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to let all that out.’
‘As they say, better out than in, and a bit of drama makes a change from the usual boring lunch, doesn’t it, Monty?’
The dog had come to sit on my lap and kept nudging my hand as if to say, ‘See, it isn’t so bad really.’
‘Yeah, but it’s Christmas Day,’ I sniffled. ‘I shouldn’t be spoiling it.’
‘You’re not,’ said Reine although she put her hand out and patted mine to take the edge off the comment.
‘Thanks for listening. I feel better for getting it off my chest.’
‘Good. So now what are you going to do about it? He clearly cares about you.’
‘Cares about me? I think he hates me.’
‘You’re feeling sorry for yourself, dear, and playing the victim doesn’t suit you.’ She poured us each another glass of wine, finishing the bottle and then waved over at Martin. ‘We’re going to need another one of these – and dessert.’
While I mopped myself up and drank a few fortifying sips of wine like a proper damsel in distress, Reine persuaded Martin to bring us a selection of sweet things from the buffet. Then she turned her attention back to me, steepling her fingers as she fixed me with a stern stare.
‘Do you think he’s right?’ she asked. ‘In his character assessment of you. Was it a true summation of what you’re like? I have to say, I like Noah and he’s a fair man. I think a good judge of character. Take a minute before you answer and consider it properly.’
It didn’t take me long before I nodded miserably and whispered, ‘Yes.’
‘In that case there’s nothing to be done.’
I gaped at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘If you think you’re all those things and agree with him. Then there’s no argument is there?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Sorry to be blunt. But if you accept that’s the way you are – you’re the only one with any control over it. If you’re not happy being seen that way – you have a problem.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you want to be irresponsible? Do you want to live life without worrying about consequences and the future? If the answer is yes, then you don’t have a problem, do you? Noah was right.’
‘That’s brutal,’ I said, more than a little shocked by her candour.
‘No point telling you he was angry and didn’t mean it if you agree with him, is there? If you don’t agree, then you have a right to feel pissed at him. Your choice.’
I stared at her, stunned by this revelation.
‘Ah, Martin. What have you brought us?’
He put a large plate on the table filled with fat, chocolate profiteroles, pecan pie, delicate macarons and a festive cheesecake – along with a couple of ramekins of chocolate mousse and crème brulée.
‘There you go ladies, enjoy.’
‘Nothing like sugar to cure heartbreak,’ said Reine.
‘I-I’m not h-heartbroken…’ I stammered.
She tilted her head and gave me a don’t-give-me-that-crap look.
I sighed. Somehow along the way I’d fallen for Noah.
‘The big question, my dear, is what you’re going to do to get him back?’
I swallowed hard, facing the reality. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’m not what he wants.’
‘There’s a big difference between what the head wants and what the heart needs.’
I shook my head. ‘Noah won’t come back, and to be honest, I don’t blame him. I need to sort myself out before I can even start to think about the future. I haven’t got a job, I need to make amends with my flatmates, and I need to … to get some counselling.’
Reine moved seats to come and sit next to me, taking my hand and clasping it between both of us.
‘I think you’ve already taken the first step to healing yourself.
Noah may not be in your future but there are lots of bright stars out there for you to reach for, and I have no doubt you’ll catch them.
And in the meantime, I have a suggestion for you. ’
* * *
I couldn’t help myself. On Boxing Day afternoon, after a morning of board games with the Greenfords, Reine, Monty and assorted other guests, I excused myself and took a glass of wine up to my room. All day I’d been keeping an eye on the time.
An hour before kick-off, 7pm UK time, I checked the Fulham team sheet online, scanning the names.
Noah wasn’t playing. I stared at the screen on my laptop. Not playing? But he’d gone home. I’d assumed that what was why. The news hit me hard, a hand reaching into my chest and grabbing my heart with a rough squeeze.
All the hope that I’d been holding on to was extinguished like a blanket over fire.
I let the tears roll down my face. He was gone.
I looked down at the blank screen of my phone, still willing a text to appear, still clinging to the possibility that he was still travelling.
Couldn’t get a flight earlier and was still in the air.
His phone had run out of charge. He hadn’t got home yet.
He’d had a brain haemorrhage and was in hospital – okay, unlikely, and way worse, but a measure of my desperation that he was physically unable to call.
The truth was – I wasn’t going to hear from him.
Not now. Not ever. Like he’d said, he was done with me.
Because I was reckless, had no purpose and didn’t stick at things – all the things he’d hurled at me like little knives had left a thousand cuts.
And they hurt because now I knew they were all true.
Reine had forced me to take a good, hard look at myself.
I sat back in my chair and stared out of the window, the lights twinkling in the New York sky, the tall, long shapes of skyscrapers silhouetted against midnight blue.
I winced at the stark beauty. Time to say goodbye to New York.
I realised the room was in near darkness apart from the glow of the Christmas tree.
I crossed over to it and began to remove the ornaments that Noah had bought for me.
I would keep them. For my tree next year.
I straightened and brushed my tears away. Reine was right. I had choices to make. And first up was accepting her very generous offer of going to spend New Year with her at her house on Long Island.
Thinking about it, I carefully wrapped each of the ornaments in toilet paper and packed them away in my case.
A few long walks on the beach over the next week sounded a perfect plan and would help me get myself set up for the future.
One thing for certain was that next year I would celebrate Christmas. No more running away from it.
Switching on the lights, I made myself a cup of tea and sat down at the table, straight-backed and filled with purpose.
I opened up a new document on my laptop and began to type.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as a flood of thoughts poured out.
All the things I needed to do, an action plan, a timeline, ideas, plans.
After two hours I sat back and smiled to myself.
Early days, but I knew what I needed to do.
First on the list was to arrange a meeting with Sophie to pick her brains.
The second thing was long overdue; I was going to find a counsellor.
The third was working out how I was going to apologise properly to my flatmates for stealing from them.
Yes, stealing, not borrowing. I’d justified taking the money to myself instead of admitting that I had stolen it for my own selfish reasons.
‘Blimey, Evie Green,’ I said out loud to the silent room. ‘Look at you, all grown up.’
I smiled again. Despite the sadness that I’d made a mess of things, Noah and I had had a good time and I’d always have the memories, even if it hurt too much to let them in just now.