His Mistletoe Proposal. Christy McKellen

statement. ‘Okay, okay.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘Actually, I did know she felt like that—we talked about it before she died. But she told me to do what made me happy. She realised there was more to life than selling your soul just so you can wear overpriced designer clothes to eat at overhyped restaurants.’

      Her eyes widened as if his words had hit her right in the solar plexus. ‘So now you’re having a go at me for enjoying the fruits of my success?’

      He sighed in exasperation. ‘No, that’s not what I’m doing.’ A voice in the back of his mind pointed out that it was exactly what he was doing.

      ‘Well, it seems like it to me!’ She took a deep, juddering breath. ‘You know what? I’m going home. I know when I’m wasting my time.’ Picking up her drink, she downed the rest of it, then stood up, wobbling a little on her heels. ‘I was just trying to be friendly, Alex!’ she said in a strangled voice. With that parting shot, she spun on the spot and stormed away from him, only just avoiding stumbling into the wall on her way to the door.

      Alex dropped his head into his hands and cursed under his breath.

      He really shouldn’t have had a go at her like that, but when she’d started her character assassination of him something inside had snapped. He’d had just about enough of women telling him what was wrong with him.

      The look of hurt on Flora’s face had brought him up short though. Clearly she was still struggling to come to terms with his sister’s sudden death and was desperately trying to find a way to give her life some meaning—by attempting to fix his.

      Sighing, he got up from his chair and pulled his coat on. He couldn’t just let her storm off in that state. He at least needed to make sure she got home safely, even if she refused to speak to him again.

      After giving the barmaid a wave of thanks he followed Flora out of the pub. It was cold outside and he pulled his lapels across his throat and folded his arms against the icy wind as he trudged after her lone figure, watching in alarm as she swayed along the pavement, almost bumping into a couple coming the other way. He had no idea where she lived, but he hoped it wasn’t far.

      It wasn’t.

      She turned into the next street along, which housed a row of grand terraces, and strode up to a pillared entrance a few doors down. Fumbling in her handbag, she pulled out a key, which she proceeded to stab at the lock.

      He watched her, half amused, half exasperated, as she failed to get the key into the lock over and over again. Shaking his head, he walked up behind her and took the key from her hand, feeling her jump in surprise at his unexpected presence.

      ‘I don’t need your help,’ she said archly, but he ignored her, sliding the key into the lock and swinging the door open for her.

      ‘After you,’ he said, gesturing for her to go first, then rolling his eyes when she snatched the keys from his hand and swept past him with her head held high. This time, she managed to get the key to the inner flat into the lock on her second try. She barrelled inside, shrugging off her coat and haphazardly kicking off her shoes in the small but elegant hallway. Her whole posture was stiff now as if she was desperately trying to keep her composure under control and as he followed her inside the flat—just to make sure she wasn’t going to walk into a wall and knock herself out—he saw her shoulders slump as if she’d lost the battle.

      ‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly, worried that he’d gone too far in his anger and really upset her.

      She turned back to look at him and his stomach dropped at the dejection he saw in her eyes.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, surprising him with the genuine tone in her voice. He hadn’t been expecting an apology.

      ‘I’ve had such a terrible week. My boss doesn’t trust me to do my job properly and you think I’m annoying and stuck-up.’ She rubbed her hands over her eyes, smudging her make-up. ‘I just wanted to do something good, Alex.’

      ‘I know, I understand,’ he said, moving towards her.

      ‘I miss Amy so much.’ Her voice broke on his sister’s name and he swallowed in empathy.

      ‘Don’t you have other friends to talk to?’ he asked gently.

      ‘Yes, I have other friends! But I’ve grown apart from a lot of them since moving to the States and getting so swamped with work.’ She flapped her hand in an overly dramatic gesture that gave away just how drunk she was. ‘And anyway, none of them understand me the way that Amy did.’

      Feeling out of his depth, he held up a hand, palm forward, to gesture for her to stay there. ‘I’ll get you a drink of water,’ he said, backing away to find the kitchen. After locating a clean glass in the cupboard and filling it from a bottle of mineral water in the fridge, he returned to the living room to find her pacing up and down.

      He held out the glass and she took it from him with a nod of thanks.

      ‘She was always so good at giving it to me straight, then finding the perfect way to cheer me up,’ she said, as if needing to get it all out now that she’d started talking about Amy. ‘I need that.’ She let out a big sigh, then looked at him beseechingly. ‘Who’s going to tell me to stop getting so wound up about nothing and “take a step back and breathe” now? Who’s going to tease me about buying the exact same outfits year after year, whilst also complimenting me on my good taste? Or roll her eyes at my terrible jokes whilst also making me feel loved and respected? Who will ever understand me the way Amy did?’ she finished on a whisper, her voice heavy with pain.

      He had no idea how to make things better for her so, despite his frustration, he remained silent. It didn’t seem as if Flora was really asking him for answers though. They both knew there weren’t any right now.

      She cocked her head to one side and gave him a smile that was full of anguish. ‘We’re never going to see her again, Alex. How can that possibly be? She was so young; she had so much to live for. I’ll never see her cuddle the babies she wanted so desperately. She would have been such a good mother. I was going to be their favourite honorary aunt. It’s such a waste of a good life. She had so much to offer the world. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair, Alex.’

      ‘I know,’ he said quietly, fighting back the swell of emotion he’d kept firmly under wraps since Amy had died. He had a horrible feeling if he let it go he’d lose himself completely.

      Her eyes glimmered with tears as she looked at him, shaking her head.

      ‘I hate the idea of moving through life without having any kind of a clue about what’s lying in wait for me. When Amy was around I felt like I could cope with that fear because she’d always be there, at my back, ready to catch me. But I’m all alone now.’ Sloshing water out of the glass with her drunken gesticulations, she put it down onto a side table next to her.

      ‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ he said. And he did. It was something that terrified him too.

      She put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I must sound so selfish. I know I’m not the only person to lose someone, but that’s how I feel when I wake up in the dark in the early hours—swamped with this cloying sense of dread and anger at the world.’ She fisted her hands and shook them as if trying to throttle her emotions.

      ‘Yeah, well, grief affects people in all sorts of ways.’

      Looking back at him, she gazed right into his eyes, as if searching for something specific there. ‘It doesn’t seem to have affected you in the same way though. And I don’t mean that as a criticism.’ Her posture slumped now. ‘I guess I’m just a weaker person than you.’

      He moved towards her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

      ‘I was lucky. I got to spend a lot of time with her at the end of her life,’ he said quietly, realising now just how grateful he was to have had that opportunity.

      ‘You see, that’s the thing,’ Flora said, then swallowed hard, as if forcing back her tears.