A Winter's Wish. Alice Ross

alone in her office. He grinned at her across the desk, hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘You look great. How’ve you been?’

      ‘Oh, fine, you know,’ she replied, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking half as much as her legs. ‘You?’

      ‘Good. Really good. I spent a couple of years in New York and then moved to Sydney. But it’s great being back home. Great seeing you.’

      At his obvious enthusiasm at their unexpected reunion, Amelia’s emotions executed a swift turnaround and, for the first time since being informed of his appointment, she found herself smiling. ‘It’s a bit weird though, isn’t it?’ she said hesitantly.

      Doug laughed. ‘Weird but brilliant.’

      The two days he spent with her were, much to Amelia’s amazement, a complete and utter pleasure. She’d forgotten just how easily he could make her laugh, how relaxed she felt in his presence. Rather than the exhausting charade of trying to be someone else, with Doug she could just be herself. And every time he looked at her with those twinkling hazel eyes, yet another part of the igloo she’d assiduously constructed around her heart melted away.

      She hadn’t asked about Imogen and Doug hadn’t mentioned her. But finding out that he’d moved from New York to Sydney, she clung to a scrap of hope that perhaps they’d split up.

      They hadn’t. But by the time Amelia found out, it was too late. Three weeks into Doug’s appointment had come the Providential Annual Conference. An event to which she usually dedicated every bit of her attention. With Doug there, though, not one speaker, however impressive and well researched their presentation, had held her interest for more than three minutes.

      ‘Let’s skip the talk this evening and go for a drink,’ he suggested, nudging her in the ribs like a naughty schoolboy.

      Amelia had rolled her eyes. ‘You might be a big-shot director, Mr Carver, but you really haven’t changed a bit,’ she joked.

      ‘Would you want me to?’

      Amelia had gazed into those sparkling hazel eyes and shaken her head. ‘No. I wouldn’t.’

      Just to confirm what she’d already long since suspected, those few seconds had been enough for her to know that she was still hopelessly in love with this man. Every one of her feelings for him had returned – with several years of interest added. She loved Doug Carver – and she always would.

      The drink had inevitably led to a meal, and then a kiss. A kiss that – outside the Italian restaurant in which they’d spent two of the best hours of Amelia’s life, giggling like a couple of schoolkids and spooning each other creamy desserts – had sent her head reeling. They’d ended up in her bed at the hotel, where several more best hours of her life had followed.

      ‘There’s something I really should tell you,’ Doug had said, gazing down at her afterwards.

      With a lurch of her stomach, Amelia had known instinctively what it was.

      ‘It’s Imogen. We’re still together.’

      ‘Don’t you think you should have told me that before you got into my bed?’ she asked, blinking back the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

      Doug grimaced. ‘I know. I meant to. It’s just that – well – I didn’t plan any of this. Seeing you again has brought back all those feelings I used to have – still have – for you. I loved you, Amelia. To distraction. And you’ll never know how much you hurt me when you dumped me.’

      At that, the tears had begun to flow. ‘You know why I finished it. I couldn’t risk being thrown out of Cambridge. My parents – the scholarship – everything would have been ruined.’

      ‘I was ruined. I was in bits.’

      ‘You didn’t look like you were in bits. When I saw you and Imogen snogging in the quad the first week back.’

      He rolled his eyes. ‘I felt like I’d lost an arm that summer. So when she rang me up and invited me down to her place, I went. One thing just led to another.’

      ‘And have been continuing to lead to another for the last ten years. Things must be pretty good if you’ve lasted that long.’

      ‘Actually, they’re not. Up until now we’ve rarely lived in the same country. I guess it’s been easier just to let things drift than make any decisions. And it wouldn’t be easy to break off anything with Imogen. You know what she’s like.’

      Amelia did know what she was like. Imogen’s mother, Imogen had informed her – and everyone else in the pub during the meet ’n’ greet at Cambridge – had been a famous model in the 1980s and had married a minor aristocrat. Brought up at some lavish mansion and sent to the best school in the country where she’d mingled with the offspring of the rich and famous, Imogen wasn’t particularly bright – in fact, Amelia suspected she’d only got into Cambridge because of her family connections. She’d scraped through with a third-class degree in English which, again, Amelia suspected was more down to nepotism – and possibly one or two large cheque towards the refurbishment of the college library – than intellect or ability. But none of that would matter to Imogen. She was used to getting whatever she wanted. And she’d obviously wanted Doug from that very first evening.

      ‘But surely, if things aren’t that great, you’d be better off splitting up. Even she must see that.’

      He shrugged. ‘I think she probably has a different take on it to me. And from my side, I’ve never really felt the need before. There’s never been anyone else and it’s worked out okay, I suppose, meeting up with her every few weeks. But now you’re back in my life and I—’

      Amelia’s heart stuttered. ‘What?’

      He gazed at her for several seconds during which time any lingering fragments of ice in that area of her anatomy dissolved into a pool of water. ‘I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.’

      ‘Me too,’ she’d whispered, savouring that heavenly sensation of floating on air.

      But all that had been ten months ago, during which time Amelia had clattered down to earth with an almighty bump. She loved Doug with a passion, but she didn’t want to be “the other woman”. She wanted him all to herself: to have a normal life with him, doing normal things, like wandering round the supermarket, spending lazy Sunday mornings in bed, going for a stroll in the park.

      But he was doing all those things with Imogen, living with her in an apartment in Kensington. Up until now, Amelia hadn’t liked to put too much pressure on him. After all, it was early days in their rekindled relationship. They needed to get to know one another again – find out if the special bond that had once tethered them together could be retied. And, for all she felt sick every time he mentioned “Immy”, ten years with someone was an incredibly long time. Plus, Amelia wanted to be sure of her own feelings, confident they could have a future together, before he did anything drastic. But, last month, having spent every spare moment they could together, she became impatient.

      ‘Where do you think this is going?’ she asked one evening, after they’d tumbled into bed together.

      ‘I know where I want it to go. I want to be with you. I’ve never stopped loving you.’

      Rather than swooning in his arms like she would normally have done at such a proclamation, Amelia had sat up and looked him directly in the eye. ‘So does this mean you’re going to tell Imogen about us?’

      He’d nodded. ‘I am. In the next couple of weeks. I promise.’

      And she’d believed him.

      Until something happened to postpone his “announcement” …

      A cackle of laughter on the radio jolted her back to the present. Blinking back yet another round of tears, she sucked in a fortifying breath before beginning to clear away the remainder of the breakfast dishes, suddenly aware that her every move was being monitored by a pair of dark canine eyes from a basket in