by Lissa Del
“I’m going to start dinner, then,” I say cheerfully, “while you get some work done.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes. Jess and Tom are popping in later so you can stop when they get here.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve?”
“Exactly,” I say, “just think - tomorrow you get the whole day off.” He gives a grunt as I shove his work bag at him.
Much to Leo’s delight, Tom and Jess arrive early, bringing another gust of icy wind in with them. Jess’s eyes are slitty beneath her beanie and her scarf is pulled up over her chin.
“God, it’s cold,” she announces, handing me an unwrapped bottle of wine. “Merry Christmas.”
“Yes, Merry Christmas,” Tom adds, handing me an identical bottle, with a broken strand of tinsel draped around it.
“So fancy, Tom!” I tease, picking it off and holding it up.
“I stole it off the cash register at the bottle store,” he admits proudly. “Sorry we’re early, but we’re off to the pub in a bit, so we thought we’d stop by first.”
“No problem at all,” Leo assures him, packing away his books with a gleeful expression.
I make my way over to the tree that Leo and I decorated only last week and pull two bottles of red from its base.
“Merry Christmas!” I say, handing one each to Tom and Jess.
“I take it none of you believe in wrapping paper?” Leo drawls, watching us in amusement.
“No point,” Jess informs him, “we’re going to drink it now anyway.”
The four bottles of wine are consumed in almost no time at all, and Jess and Tom make their exit, Jess considerably less affected by the cold.
“Tell your folks I say hi,” she says, giving me a hug. “And Merry Christmas!”
“I will, and Merry Christmas to you too!”
Leo gives me a curious look when they’re gone.
“You don’t want to go with them?” he asks.
“I never do,” I reply easily. “Christmas Eve is one night I like to stay in. They’re used to it.”
“Why do you like to stay in?”
“I don’t know, I just do. There’s something magical about Christmas Eve.” I catch his eye and I can see he’s trying not to smile. “I also don’t particularly enjoy spending Christmas with a hangover,” I insist, smacking his arm. “Now, I’m going to finish that dinner, and you, Mr Russell, are going to get back to your books.”
I’m peeling potatoes when Leo’s phone rings, the opening bars of Live’s Lightning Crashes resounding through the room. Automatically he gets up and wanders down the hall. He can’t stand still when he’s talking on the phone, he has to pace, and I hear the deep thrum of his voice moving further away. I wonder idly what my parents will think of him. I’m sure they’ll approve - there’s nothing not to like about Leo - but I don’t think it would be wise to let them in on our current living arrangements. As luck would have it, mom hasn’t been to stay once since we started dating, so I haven’t been caught yet, but I know she would frown upon her unmarried daughter living with a man. Of course, Dylan will probably take great delight in tipping her off, despite my plea for him to keep quiet.
I’m yanked from my musing by the change in Leo’s tone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice, other than the night Noah accosted me outside in the hall. Fearful of being caught eavesdropping, I tiptoe around the kitchen counter and stand just out of sight, behind the wall.
“Stop calling me,” Leo is saying, his voice low once more. I frown, wondering who on earth he could be talking to. “That’s none of your business,” Leo continues. A pause, and then, “No really, it’s not!”
There is a deathly silence and I picture him in my mind, standing in the hall, his eyes narrowed in anger. I wonder if he’s hung up the phone and then I hear the soft footfalls of his return. I race back around the kitchen counter and pick up the potato-peeler as he rounds the corner.
“Who was that?” I try to keep my voice as normal as possible, but it sounds high-pitched, even to my own ears.
“Gordon,” he replies easily. Gordon is a name I’ve heard often – one of the group of friends who was with him at the club the first night he bought me a drink – but we were never properly introduced and, in the months that we’ve been dating, I’ve never met any of Leo’s friends.
“I still haven’t met him,” I say, keeping my eyes on the half-peeled potato in my hand. “You’re not embarrassed to introduce your rich friends to your middle-class girlfriend, are you?” I expect him to deny it or to brush it off, but instead, he curses.
“What is that supposed to mean, exactly?”
I raise my eyes in surprise to find him glaring at me in genuine annoyance.
“Nothing,” I retort, “I just find it odd that you’ve met all of my friends and I’m taking you to meet my parents tomorrow, but you haven’t introduced me to a single person in your life.”
“You wouldn’t like my friends,” he says. “I’m not even sure I do. And I’ve told you before, I’m trying to distance myself from them.”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“That’s not an answer, Leo and you know it.” I slam down the potato-peeler and press my hands against the counter, my own anger roused. Leo pauses, takes a deep breath and seems to compose himself.
“They remind me of who I was before,” he admits. “I have nothing in common with them anymore.”
“So you just stopped seeing them, conveniently, at the same time we started dating?”
“Yes. Is it so hard for you to believe that you bring out the best in me? That I don’t want to ruin what we have by bringing those types of people into it?” The fight goes out of me but there’s still another issue to address.
“What about your family?” I ask. “You can’t tell me you’ve cut them out of your life too? You see your sister often. Without me,” I add pointedly. “And you’re not even seeing them for Christmas!”
“My family don’t celebrate the holidays, Sarah. It’s not a big deal.” He spreads his hands wide. “You want to meet my sister? I’ll take you to meet her. We can go right now.” He actually takes a physical step toward the door and I raise my hands.
“I don’t need to meet her right now,” I say, the thought alarming me more than I had expected. “I just want to know that you actually intend to tell her about us.”
At this, Leo’s jaw drops.
“You think she doesn’t know?” he asks, and then his shoulders start to shake with silent laughter. “Sarah, she knows, trust me. In fact, I think she’s sick of hearing about you… you’re all I tend to talk about these days.”
A warm glow suffuses me, obliterating all my anger and frustration. “Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I don’t know, I thought maybe… I don’t know what I thought.” I shake my head, resuming my dinner preparations, but Leo marches up to me and takes the potato-peeler from my hand.
“I am not ashamed of you, Sarah,” he says, his blue eyes holding my own without any hesitation. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“The best thing?” I smile shyly.
“Well, there was this Swedish model this one time…”
And just like that, our first official fight is over.
CHAPTER 19
“Mom! Dad! We’re here!” I call, closing the front door behind me and peeling off my gloves.
“Sarah!” My mother bustles in from the kitchen, her blonde curls piled high on her head. Her hair is damp from the steam of cooking and she hasn’t got a stitch of make-up on, but she still looks ridiculously youthful.
I accept a hug that is bone-crushing, particularly from someone so small and then turn to introduce Leo.
“Mom, this is Leo,” I say proudly, “Leo, my mother, Eleanor.”
Leo’s hand dwarfs my mom’s as he takes hold of it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Holt.”
“Elea
nor, please,” my mother insists, skittishly. I can tell she likes Leo – well, the look of Leo, at any rate. It’s still too early for her to really know if he will live up to her expectations, but if this first impression is anything to go by, it’s definitely a good sign.
“Your Dad’s on the patio,” Mom says, as I shrug out of my coat. “Go and sit, I’ll be out shortly.” Usually Mom enlists me to help with the food but Leo’s presence gives me a welcome sabbatical.
Outside, Dad is reading the paper but, when he sees us, he folds it meticulously and sets it aside. Getting to his feet he shakes Leo’s hand as I make introductions. Judging by the way Leo flexes his fingers afterward, I figure Dad gave him the old “flex test” and I smile inwardly.
‘Where’s your brother?” Dad asks when we’re all seated.
“Late, as always,” I say, and then, turning to Leo, “the Holt men are notoriously unpunctual.”
“And the Holt women are always on time,” my dad agrees cheerily.
Dylan arrives a few minutes later, with a slim, doe-eyed blonde on his arm who he introduces as Hannah. To my astonishment, she’s not at all busty, and she has the poise and confidence that comes from absolute conviction of your worth. Beside me, Leo shifts in his seat and I notice he’s avoiding her gaze.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Hannah,” I say, giving Dylan some discreet wide-eyed approval. “This is my boyfriend, Leo.” Leo finally looks up and Hannah shakes his hand politely. A tiny frown creases between her eyes as she meets his eyes.
“You look familiar,” she says, “have we met before?”
“I don’t think so,” Leo replies, a little too quickly, “maybe I just have one of those common faces.” Considering his face the comment is absurd, but I refrain from saying so.
“Maybe,” Hannah agrees, but the frown doesn’t subside.
“Right!” my mom announces, stepping outside. “Time for presents!”
My family have never been big on expensive gifts so when Dylan presents Hannah with a pair of diamond earrings we fall into an astonished silence. The fact that he is usually so tight with his money makes it all the more bizarre and I wonder just how long the two have actually been dating. Surely he wouldn’t fork out for diamonds for a girl he’s only just met? I rack my brain trying to remember if he’s ever mentioned her before, but I can’t recall a single name before Lucy the secretary. He turns them over so fast it’s hard to keep track. Knowing Dylan, Hannah’s probably been around a while, under the false pretence of exclusivity and I make a concerted effort not to mention Dylan’s recent date. My dad gives an awkward little cough, indicating that we should stop gaping, and, as one, we all start talking at once to cover the stunned silence. I shove my badly-wrapped gift into Leo’s hands.
“It’s not that fancy,” I admit, glaring at Dylan for good measure for setting such a high standard.
Leo, to my delight, isn’t one of those men who shy away from present opening. He rips the packaging revealing the slim box within. Opening it, he quickly scans the embossed gift voucher – a weekend for two at Serenity.
“We’re going back?” he grins, dazzling me.
“We’re going back,” I say.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” Leo grabs me in a bear hug, uninhibited by the fact that my family is looking on.
“Well, technically I bought it for myself, too, so I think it’s worth it,” I mumble into his shoulder, grateful for the navy sweater which is hiding my blushes.
“I think you’re going to get a lot of use out of this one, sis,” Dylan announces, handing me an oblong gift wrapped in newspaper. It’s saving grace is a small gold bow, which is cello-taped so spectacularly to the paper that I don’t even attempt to remove it. Inside I find a wooden sign with the word ‘occupied’ emblazoned in bold, block letters on the front.
“What does it say?” Mom asks fondly, trying to peer over my shoulder.
“It’s for my bathroom,” I say quickly, showing it to her, while Dylan shakes with laughter on the sofa opposite.
“How thoughtful!” Mom gives him an approving look, but the second she turns her attention back to me, Dad smacks him on the back of the head.
At last all the presents have been opened and we move to the table for lunch. My family are far too civil to say so, but the fact that Leo hasn’t gotten me anything is an elephant in the room. My mom keeps casting disapproving glances his way over the condiments and my dad has fallen into a thoughtful silence.
“So, Hannah,” I say, trying to redirect their attention, “what is it that you do?”
“I’m in sales,” she replies, spooning peas onto her plate. “I sell medical laboratory equipment to hospitals and clinics.” I clock the diamond bracelet on her arm and the impeccable cut of her tan trouser suit and figure she must be very good at her job.
“And how did you and Dylan meet?” Mom asks, finally tearing her eyes from Leo.
“Through a mutual friend.” They share a secret smile.
“Oh?” I tease, “I wasn’t aware that Dylan had any friends.”
The tension eases slightly as everyone laughs at our typical sibling rivalry and I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t want my family to think badly of Leo. Of course I’m disappointed, not to mention the embarrassment of being the girl who didn’t get a gift from her own boyfriend, but I figure maybe Leo’s just not that into the whole holiday thing. He did mention they don’t celebrate the holidays – maybe that includes gift-giving. I catch sight of the gorgeous knife-set on the counter that Leo presented to my parents. Or maybe not, I think wryly.
It’s evening by the time we leave and, despite my best efforts, my disappointment has grown into an ugly, resentful sulk. My mom kisses me on the cheek and bundles me up in my coat, but the farewell she offers Leo is distinctly chilly. Leo seems oblivious, though, and he says nothing about it the entire way home.
I don’t wait for him to open my door. Instead, by the time he comes around the SUV, I’m waiting on the sidewalk. He glances quizzically at me, but I ignore him, feeling tears of childish humiliation prick at my eyes.
“Sarah?” he asks, no doubt trying to discern the reason for my cool behaviour, but before he can go any further, a commotion breaks out to our left that drives all thought of presents, or lack thereof, from my mind.
In the four years that I have lived in Manhattan, I have never personally experienced any of the crime that runs rife in the city. Until now. A grubby, skin-headed youth lunges at us out of nowhere. Before I can even register that the glint of steel in his hand is a knife, Leo gives a bellow of rage and shoves me toward the SUV. I stumble on the uneven ground, landing painfully on my knees. Leo doesn’t notice, stepping between me and the would-be assailant with single-minded purpose. His body is tightly coiled in a defensive pose, his hands balled into fists. The youth, not expecting such an aggressive reaction, hesitates. Leo doesn’t. He lunges for the boy, grabbing hold of his knife hand and forcing it away. The youth gives a yell of pain as his wrist is twisted at an impossible angle and the knife clatters to the ground. Leo is taller and broader than the boy so I do not see exactly what happens next, but Leo’s arm crashes into the youth’s face with an audible crunch. When he draws his hand back again, his knuckles are bloody, but he strikes out again and again, landing blows wherever he can reach. With a shriek of fear and strength borne of terror, the boy manages to wriggle out of Leo’s hold. I catch sight of his scarlet, mangled face and then he sprints off into the night, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he’d come. Leo makes a move to follow him and I finally find my voice.
“Leo!” My fear and panic is tangible and brings him to his senses. He whirls around, his eyes searching for me.
“Sarah!” He is at my side in an instant, his hands gentle, his breathing laboured. The streets are quiet once more and no one comes to our aid. Through my adrenalin-fuelled daze, it dawns on me that the entire episode lasted only a few seconds and that my solitary scream was the only sound.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks as we ascend the elevator and I realise he must have already asked me this question. I nod, my heart-rate slowly returning to normal. “You sure?” His eyes are assessing every inch of me and he winces at the sight of my scraped knees through the tears in my jeans.
“He came out of nowhere,” I gulp. Leo doesn’t respond, but his shoulders are still taut with tension and a muscle is going in his jaw. “Should we go to the police?” I ask, leaning against him.
“There’s no point. They won’t do anything.” There is such venom in his voice that I take a step away from him, but immediately he pulls me back. “Let’s just get you inside,” he murmurs into my hair. I can feel his heart hammering, but outwardly he maintains an eerie aura of calm. I lift his hand, seeing the scarlet streaks across his fingers. Two of his knuckles are split open.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” he insists. I think back to the sight of him thrashing the youth; the furious set of his body, the aggression that seems to emanate from him, so violent, so out of character. His reaction wasn’t natural. It doesn’t matter, I chide myself, he probably just saved your life.
“I have some Neosporin we can put on that,” I say and, armed with a task, I feel better. I step out onto the landing with purpose.
“Sarah!” Leo calls as I slide my key into the latch, but it’s too late. I open the door and am assaulted by the heady scent of freshly-cut flowers. I gaze around at him but he just shrugs, only half a crooked smile lifting his lips.
“This isn’t exactly how I planned this, but…” he shrugs again, gesturing me inside.
“Seventy-eight,” he tells me, as I take in the long-stemmed, white roses on every surface. “One for each day we’ve been together. Despite the fact that we were just accosted and the fear that has yet to wholly subside, I feel my heart lift.
“I thought you hadn’t got me anything,” I admit, a sob welling in my chest.
