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Several hours and multiple orgasms later, they eventually got out of bed, driven by the need for food.
Hal banked up the fire in the living room while Angel put the kettle on, and they warmed up some croissants in the oven, bringing them in to eat in front of the fire with a cup of tea.
Angel curled up in the armchair, and Hal stretched out on the sofa, facing her.
“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Day,” she said, looking out at the snow, which was still falling, more thickly now.
“I know what you mean. It feels surreal.” Or maybe that was to do with the beautiful blonde sitting in his armchair, her long pale legs hooked over the edge. Hal’s body was still humming with the desire that had run through it ever since she’d taken off her top the night before, his mind a whirl of images that he kept flicking through like photos in an album.
But it wasn’t just the sex that had been mind-blowing. Last night—and this morning—had been more than a quick shag to satisfy a physical urge. Angel made him feel... he wasn’t sure how to put it into words. Special. Sexy. Interesting. He wasn’t used to feeling like that, and he wasn’t prepared to give it up yet.
“I’ve got something to ask you,” he said.
“Oh?” She sipped her tea.
“Stay with me,” he said.
She blinked and wiped delicately beneath her bottom lip. “What do you mean?”
“At night time, while you’re on the island. Obviously, you have your cottage if you want time alone during the day. We don’t have to spend every minute together. But let me have the nights.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Are you serious?”
“Look at my face.” He made sure he wasn’t smiling.
“Hal...”
He shrugged. “It’s up to you. I want to spend more time with you, that’s all. You make me feel as if it’s Christmas Day all the time, and I want to go on feeling like that for a bit longer.”
She continued to stare at him, and he felt the first twinge of unease. Jesus, what was he thinking? He’d known her the sum total of three days and he was practically asking her to move in with him. That wasn’t what he’d meant at all. He just knew he didn’t want her to go.
He hid a wince of regret. He should really come with a warning label. How many different ways could he fuck up the relationships in his life?
Angel looked at the empty plate in her lap, then sat up and placed it on the coffee table. “It’s a sweet thing to offer,” she said. “I’m very touched.”
He sat up, too. “I’ve probably overstepped the mark. Sorry. I didn’t mean to take advantage of what we’ve had so far.”
“It’s not that, please don’t think I’m not immensely flattered, and tempted.” She turned her mug in her hands. “I’m just not sure that I should inflict myself on you.” She wrinkled her nose and smiled.
He tipped his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I came to the island to get away because Christmas is a difficult time, and I don’t want to drag other people down with me.”
“You don’t drag me down,” he said softly. “Quite the opposite.”
A touch of color appeared in her cheeks. “Well, I’ve felt good since I’ve been here. But... I’m not... ‘fixed’.”
“Who is? We’re all broken in one way or another. Maybe we can help each other put the pieces back together.”
She sucked her bottom lip. Then she put her mug on the table. “I need some time to think about it. Would that be okay?”
He hid his disappointment that she hadn’t jumped at the chance of spending more time with him. “Of course.”
“I think I’ll pop back to the cottage,” she said, pushing up to her feet.
“Okay. I should ring the kids anyway.” He got up and collected the breakfast things, and took them out to the kitchen, while Angel disappeared into the bedroom, presumably to get dressed.
His stomach was in a knot as he rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have continued to see her on an ad hoc basis. For fuck’s sake, she was going back home in the New Year—six hours’ drive away. This was hardly going to lead to anything. It was a holiday fling—a few hours of fun and mutual physical release. She must think he was mad for trying to make more of it than there was.
When he’d done, he went into the hallway and found her in the process of putting on her boots. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, cursing himself silently.
Angel straightened and lifted her coat off the hook, then she turned to him and smiled. “I’ll ring you in an hour or two, okay?”
“Sure.”
She rested a hand on his chest, then reached up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. He didn’t move for a moment, then gave in and wrapped his arms around her.
When he finally lifted his head, she was smiling. “You’re a very sweet guy,” she whispered. Then she turned, opened the front door, and walked out into the snow.
Hal watched her walk away, the flakes swirling around her, until she disappeared around the corner, and then he came back inside and closed the door. Shivering a little, he went into the living room, flopped onto the sofa, and fell onto his back, covering his face with his hands.
“Fuck!” he yelled into the silence. For ten minutes, he lay there, calling himself all the names under the sun as he listed in his head all the things he’d done wrong in his life, the mistakes he’d made, the people he’d hurt, the things he’d said he wished he could take back. He only had himself to blame. He was twelve kinds of idiot where women were concerned. When would he ever learn?
Gradually, though, his anger died away, leaving him tired and dispirited, and a touch resentful. Why was he berating himself? He just wanted to see more of Angel, that was all. It wasn’t a bad thing. He’d spoken his mind, and even though it might have appeared a bit eager, she had said she felt flattered, so she’d taken it in the spirit he’d meant it.
And he was done with feeling guilty about the breakup of his marriage. Although of course he had to share the blame for its failure, deep down he didn’t believe there was more he could have done. Some things just weren’t meant to work out, he thought sadly. Were he and Angel one of them? Would he be lying here in ten Christmases’ time, thinking about the woman who’d lit up his life like the star on top of his tree, only to fade away into the night days later?
The ring of his landline made him jump, and he shot to his feet and paced over to the receiver. Was it Angel, back at the cottage, ringing him to say she’d changed her mind and wanted to stay? Although she would probably have called his mobile...
He pressed the button and held it up to his ear, knowing he sounded breathless as he said, “Hello?”
“Hey,” his sister said after a brief delay. “Merry Christmas, baby bro!”
He blew out a breath and carried the phone back to the sofa, plonking himself down. “Hey, Bets. I suppose it’s Christmas night already in Australia, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Had the barbecue, drank too much, dozed off in front of the TV, the usual.”
Hal’s head spun at the thought of having a barbecue by the pool on Christmas Day. “How’s Ray?”
“Three sheets to the wind. Happy.”
“And the kids?”
“Spoiled, grouchy, and bad tempered. Nothing changes.” There were smiles in her voice, though. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” He sat back on the sofa, stretching out his legs. “Are you checking up on me?”
“Yep. First Christmas without the kids isn’t going to be easy.”
“No,” he said sadly. “It’s not.”
“I hope you got drunk last night.”
He thought about the mulled wine, about walking with Angel in the cold night air, and smiled. “No.”
“Oh? What did you get up to?”
“I was with someone,” he said, surprising himself. He and Bets weren’t close, not really, not enough to be confidantes anyway. They rang each other a few times a year for a chat, teased each other on Facebook, and that was about it.
“Oh?” He could almost see her sitting up. “Who?”
“She’s here on vacation. Nothing serious.” He decided not to tell her that he’d asked Angel to stay with him.
“Is she pretty?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Good for you! It’s been a while, eh?”
“Too long.”
“You remember where everything goes?”
He chuckled. “How’s the law firm?”
She laughed. “Yeah, all right. Work’s okay.” She went on to tell him a bit about a couple of cases she’d been working on, and then he told her a little about his job, leaving out all the crap about Charles, cherry picking the bits of his life he felt he could share without worrying her.
“Well, you take care of yourself,” she said eventually. “Are you seeing the girl again?”
“Not sure.” He looked up at the ceiling. He really needed to repaint it at some point.
“Okay. Well, love you, bro.”
“Love you too, sis. Love to everyone.” He hung up.
He checked his mobile—nothing from Angel. Sighing, he flicked on the TV, watched the news for five minutes, then flicked it off again. Maybe he should go for a walk, blow out some of the cobwebs. He was just about to pull on his boots when his landline rang again.
Certain that Angel would probably ring his mobile, he sighed and answered it.
“Dad!” Jamie’s voice carried with it enough excitement to suggest he was jumping up and down the other end. “I got the T-rex Lego kit!”
“Wow,” Hal said, somewhat flatly. Jamie’d had his eye on the kit for some time. It was for kids ten-years-old and up, and would undoubtedly be too complicated for him, as he still sometimes struggled with the more basic kits. It was also incredibly expensive, out of Hal’s limited budget.
However, determined not to begrudge Charles buying the kids something nice, even if he was sure it was done to slight him, he said, “That’s amazing. I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m going to try to put some of it together myself,” his son said, “but I think it’s going to be too hard.”
“I’m sure Charles will help,” Hal replied, gritting his teeth.
Jamie blew a raspberry. “I’m not asking him for help. I’ll bring over the bits I can’t do next time we come over.”
Hal looked at his feet, feeling an uncharacteristic sweep of emotion. “Yeah,” he said huskily, “and we’ll do it together.”
“I miss you,” Jamie said.
“I miss you too, mate. How’s Brenna?”
“She got a Lego kit too, one of those baby ones. She’s happy. Want to talk to her?”
“Sure.”
Jamie put Brenna on, and Hal listened to her babbling away about the kit, stuffing his free hand in the pocket of his jeans and walking over to the window. He missed his kids so much it hurt. Life was so unfair. Now another man was with his wife and children, in his fucking house. When had it all gone so horribly wrong?
“Mum wants to talk to you,” Brenna said. “Love you, Daddy!”
“Love you too, Fruitcake,” he said. There was a rustle of the receiver, and then Rebecca said, “Hey.”
“Hey.” As usual, her voice prompted a whole rainbow of emotions—frustration, regret, anger, wistfulness. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Hal. How are you doing?”
He rubbed at a mark on the window. “I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I wanted to say sorry about what I said yesterday. About threatening to take the kids away from you. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. We both say things we don’t mean when we’re angry. I shudder when I think of some of the things I’ve said.”
He breathed out on the window, then wrote an H on it. “Yeah, well. Time to move on, I guess.” Rebecca didn’t say anything, and Hal frowned. “Are you okay?”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said in a soft voice that suggested she didn’t want to be overheard, “I had an awful argument with Charles last night after you left.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to make himself believe it. He did believe it. He didn’t want her to be unhappy, especially on Christmas Day. He wasn’t that much of a bastard.
“It was horrible,” she whispered. “He thinks I still have feelings for you.”
Hal drew a line over the top of the H to make it into an A, and put a halo around it. Then he closed his eyes.
“He’s right,” Rebecca said, her voice barely audible.
His hand tightened to a fist on the window. “Jesus, Rebecca, don’t. Not now.” The irony and unfairness of her comment almost made him laugh. Fucking hell. Their divorce would be through in days. Why the hell was she saying this now?
“I can’t help it,” she whispered. “I know I shouldn’t say it, I know we’re over and done, but I wish I’d appreciated you more when we were together. You were good to me, and I was horrible to you. I’m so sorry.” She started crying.
Hal rested his forehead on his fist. It was the closest she’d ever come to an apology. “Come on, don’t cry. You’re just feeling emotional because it’s Christmas Day and everything’s supposed to be perfect at Christmas. It’ll blow over.”
“But I do have feelings for you,” she said again.
“I’m the father of your kids—you’d be a robot if you didn’t,” he pointed out. “And I’ll always be fond of you. But that’s as far as it goes. You don’t love me anymore—if you ever did.”
“I did,” she protested, still crying. “I still do.”
“No, you don’t.” He was getting annoyed now. She was playing with his emotions, and that was unfair when she was sitting in their house with her partner and kids and he was alone with barely a penny to his name. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself, and that’s understandable, but you don’t love me.”
“I should have tried harder to make it work,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “for the kids’ sake. They miss you so much. It’s not fair to them.”
His frustration boiled over. “It’s a bit fucking late for this, Rebecca.”
“Is it?”
“What do you mean?” he snapped.
“Is it too late? I’ve grown up a lot. I’ve changed. Is it really too late to try again, for our kids?”
He sank a hand into his hair and clutched at the short strands. “You don’t mean that.”
“It’s only ever been you. I... I only went with Charles to make you jealous.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“It’s true, Hal. You were so bloody infuriating. Come on, I’m a spoiled brat, you know that, and you never did what I wanted you to—you always fought me on everything. You never let me get my own way. But it was good for me. I know that now.”
Hal’s head hurt. “You spent all our money. Then when I tried to stop you, you cheated on me. And then you moved that bastard in—to my house, my fucking bed. I’ve had two years of hell and it’s all your fault, and now you’re fucking sorry?”
“Hal...” She started sobbing.
He hung up on her. Stared at the phone for a moment. Then threw it across the room with every ounce of strength he owned, where it smashed against the wall into a thousand pieces.
