One Perfect Christmas (4 page)

He flings me away from him, hurt and anger distorting his usually perfect features.

‘You will regret this,’ he promises darkly, snatching his still-damp clothes from the radiators and pulling them on. ‘There’s no going back this time.’

And much as it pains me, it’s what I wanted to hear.

He returned to Germany after that. His former employer at the University of Munich took him back. He still couldn’t bring himself to talk to me about selling our house,
though. So we rented it out. The next time I would see him would be when we went there to clear out the last of our belongings. It was then that he finally consented to my request.

***

‘He’s agreed to a divorce,’ I tell Joe now. His dark eyes light up.

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really?’ he asks again, almost unable to believe it.

‘Yes.’

With utter relief, he pulls me to him. I breathe in his scent as I press my face into his neck.

‘Why didn’t you tell me
this
?’ he asks as he jerks away, staring at me with confusion. This topic certainly wouldn’t have ruined our conversations. It’s
what Joe’s been after for months.

‘I knew I’d believe it when I saw it. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But the divorce papers came through yesterday.’

‘And he’s signed them?’ he checks warily.

‘Yes.’

‘So it’s over?’

‘It’s been over for almost a year.’

‘Yes, but now it’s official.’

I nod and his face breaks into an enormous grin. ‘So now you’re
my
Alice.
Just
my Alice.’

‘I’ve always been
your
Alice,’ I say softly as he hugs me to him once more.

‘I’m so happy,’ he murmurs into my hair.

‘Me too.’ Another surge of joy passes through me.

We eat, drink and dance the night away, and although we get a few odd looks, I’m pretty sure Joe’s identity remains safe. For one more night, at least. At nine o’clock he goes
off to get his suitcase from a nearby hotel. His PA checked him into one, just so he could have a shower and leave his belongings somewhere, but he returns within half an hour, giving me enough
time to have a dance with Jessie and Emily.

By eleven thirty, Joe is seriously flagging. He only flew in from LA this morning after an all-night flight, and even in First Class he says he barely slept. Jessie and Emily are showing no
signs of calling it a night anytime soon, so we go to say goodbye.

Emily throws her arms around me and I hug her tightly.

‘Thanks for letting me be your bridesmaid.’ My tone is serious, but Emily snorts.

‘As if I wouldn’t have asked you!’

My eyes brim with tears and I hug her again. The truth is, I didn’t expect to be asked. Emily wasn’t one of my bridesmaids when I got married. And I had five. My face burns with
shame as I remember how I allowed Lukas to convince me that it was all about politics. I didn’t even know one of my bridesmaids – I met her for the first time the day before we got
married. Plus I hardly saw Emily back in those days. But I should never have allowed that to happen. I’m beyond delighted that we’ve become good friends again this year.

I turn to Jessie. ‘Come here,’ he slurs drunkenly, hauling me into his arms. He presses his lips to my head. ‘My little China.’

‘Look after her,’ he tells Joe, and it’s almost a warning.

‘I fully intend to,’ Joe says, gently pulling me to his side. ‘So we’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘Oh, yeah!’ Jessie exclaims. ‘Phew, forgot about that. I was about to get all emotional.’

I smirk at him. ‘Call me when you’re ready. No rush,’ I add, giving Emily one last peck on the cheek. ‘Have a good one,’ I say to her with a wink.

‘You too,’ she says brazenly back, glancing at Joe.

I laugh and lead the way out.

‘We should be able to catch a cab out here, but if not we’ll walk up to the taxi rank.’ My teeth start to chatter. It’s even colder than before.

Joe chuckles and vigorously rubs my arms in an attempt to warm me up.

‘What?’ I ask him over my shoulder.

‘Nothing,’ he replies.

‘You’re used to having a driver,’ I realise with amusement.

‘I haven’t had to hail a cab in years,’ he admits.

‘Well, for the next few weeks you’re just little Joe Strickwold, so get used to it,’ I tease.

‘I’m very happy to.’

A cab appears around the corner and he steps out onto the street and whistles loudly. It screeches to a halt.

‘Bloody hell!’ I exclaim. I’ve never seen anyone do that, other than in the movies.

Huh. But of course he’s been in plenty of movies…

‘I lived in New York for a bit,’ he informs me with a grin, opening the door for me. I climb in and tell the driver where to go. Joe puts his suitcase in the boot and then slides in
after me.

‘I didn’t know you lived in New York?’ I say. There are still so many gaps to fill in. Thankfully we have time.

‘For a year after I first moved to America,’ he explains, glancing across at me.

‘Wow. Did you like it?’

‘Loved it. Might buy an apartment there one day. Have you ever been?’

‘No, funnily enough. It’s one of those places I always wanted to go,’ I reply.

‘I’ll take you.’

I smile at him and rest my head on his shoulder, draping my arm across his waist.

‘How far away is home?’ he asks.

‘About fifteen minutes,’ I reply.

He slips his arm around me and we stay like that for the rest of the journey.

Eventually the taxi driver turns into a sleepy village, dark except for the occasional light glowing in windows behind curtains. I chose this village, not only because it’s quiet and
private and we have plenty of space, but because most of its occupants appear to be nearing ninety. I’m pretty sure that they won’t be bothered – if they ever become aware –
that there’s a celebrity in their midst.

‘Take a left here,’ I tell the driver, extricating myself from Joe as he pulls into a narrow lane. ‘We’re at the end.’

‘This is a bit tucked away,’ the driver comments.

‘It sure is,’ I reply, flashing Joe a grin. His stance has changed. He’s sitting upright and he looks eager and full of anticipation, like a child on Christmas morning.

Joe didn’t even have access to email in the rainforest, so I couldn’t send him the estate agent’s particulars. I described the house to him, although nothing would have
prepared him for what it’s like in real life. The ‘wow’ factor will have to wait until the morning, though, because it’s so dark right now that all we can see are the tall
wooden gates in the car’s headlights.

The taxi driver reverses back out of the road while I lead Joe to the gate’s keypad.

‘Five, seven, zero, two,’ I tell him as I punch in the code. ‘Fifth of July, 2002.’

‘The day we met,’ he says quietly.

We gaze at each other in the darkness for a moment before I push open the gate.

The sky over our heads is bursting with stars and a new moon hangs yellow above the rooftop. As we walk across the snow-crusted gravel driveway, I feel the familiar flutter of butterflies as
they take flight in my stomach. I push my key into the lock and flick on the hall lights as I go inside. I’m suddenly intensely aware of Joe’s presence behind me, the warmth of his
frame. I turn around to face him and see that his expression is as serious as mine.

He takes me in his arms and kisses me passionately. Shivers trail up and down my spine, but I’m no longer cold. His kiss deepens, and then his lips move to my neck. I gasp and arch my
back. I want him so much.

‘I take it you don’t want a tour?’ I ask breathlessly.

‘Only to the bedroom,’ he replies, scooping me up. I laugh lightly. He’s so strong, he makes me feel weightless. He grins at me, making my heart flip. ‘Which
way?’

I nod at the stairs. ‘Up.’

‘I like what you’ve done here,’ he comments jokily, nodding at the heavy-aluminium mirror over the hallstand, mixing modern with old.

‘Thanks,’ I reply with a grin, my arms looped around his neck.

‘Nice rug,’ he continues when we reach the landing.

‘The one in front of the hearth is nicer,’ I reply mockingly and he raises one eyebrow at me. ‘Right here,’ I direct him with a jerk of my head.

He’s kissing me again before we reach the bedroom. Frantic, desperate kisses. There’s no more laughing, no more talking as we undress quickly, not taking our eyes from each other.
There are no witty remarks about the super kingsize bed with its sculptured mahogany bedhead and white Egyptian cotton 600 thread count duvet cover. All I want is him. Inside me. Now. We fall onto
the bed and as his warm, hard body presses against mine, I inhale sharply with ecstasy as I get my wish.

He kisses me lightly all over my face when it’s over. Soothing me. Loving me. Once more I was overcome with emotion at the end – sometimes Joe just does that to me. I take a deep,
shaky breath and he rolls off me, turning on his side to stroke my face and brush away my tears. My nose is still prickling and there’s a lump in my throat.

‘I love you,’ he whispers.

‘I love you more,’ I reply.

‘It’s not possible.’

We smile small smiles at each other.

‘Please can we go public?’ he begs. ‘I hate being without you.’

I sigh, my tears abating. ‘Let’s talk in the morning.’

He nods and I reach across to switch off the bedside light.

‘Nice bedhead, by the way,’ he murmurs as I snuggle into the crook of his arm.

I swear I’m still smiling as I fall asleep.

I wake up to the sound of him shaving. I sit up in bed and peer through the gap in the door to the en-suite. Sensing movement, he pauses for a moment and peeks out at me.

‘Morning,’ he says with a grin.

‘Morning,’ I reply sleepily.

‘Sorry I woke you,’ he says.

‘What’s the time?’

‘Nine o’clock.’

That’s pretty good for me, actually. I’ve been struggling to sleep recently. I nod at his electric razor. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘You think I should keep my disguise?’

‘Might be an idea?’

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘It’s too damn itchy.’

I smile at him. ‘I prefer you clean-shaven anyway.’

‘You’ll have me that way in ten minutes.’

‘Promises, promises,’ I tease.

But he stays true to it.

It’s even more blissful kissing him when I don’t have a beard to contend with. I could stay in bed with him all day, if I weren’t so excited about showing him the house.

‘Come on,’ I urge. He climbs out of bed and I pause for a moment to admire the view as he gets a T-shirt and cargo pants out from his suitcase. He must’ve brought it upstairs
while I was asleep. He is definitely broader. Hang on, what’s that?

‘Is that a scar?’ I ask with concern as he drags his T-shirt over his head.

‘Where? Oh, there,’ he replies, looking over his shoulder at his lower back. ‘Just a scratch.’

‘That is
not
just a scratch,’ I say, climbing out of bed and going over to study it. It’s about ten centimetres long, jagged, and looks quite deep. ‘Did you need
stitches?’

‘A few,’ he replies, stepping away and pulling on his cargo pants. I bloody knew it. ‘It’s not a big deal,’ he adds.

‘How did it happen?’

‘I fell out of a tree.’ He looks a bit self-conscious.

‘Are you still doing your own stunts?’ I ask accusatorily.

‘Don’t start that again,’ he warns.

‘I’m serious, Joe! You shouldn’t do that! It’s dangerous!’ My voice has climbed an octave and I hate that I sound whiney, but I can’t help it. He hurt himself
in Australia too, when he slipped and fell down a rock face during a thunderstorm. He still has the scars on his ribs to show for it.

‘I’ve always done my own stunts,’ he says firmly.

‘Yeah, well, that was before you had me around to nag you,’ I point out. ‘It’s not just you that you have to think about anymore,’ I add.

‘I guess we’ll have to add this to our list of things to talk about,’ he says meaningfully.

That shuts me up.

He leans forward to give me a quick peck on my lips. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

I give him a wry look and then go to the curtains. ‘You ready?’ I ask.

His brow furrows. ‘Yes?’ he replies uncertainly, not knowing what I’m going on about.

And then I pull back the curtains.

‘Wow,’ he says.

The view out of our window is stunning, gently undulating snowy hills reaching for miles. There are no leaves on the trees at the moment, but I can already imagine how beautiful it will be in
the spring. I hope he’s here to share it with me.

‘Come and see downstairs,’ I say eagerly.

Home is a large thatched house, dating back to the mid-sixteenth century. It was once a farmhouse and is still set within five acres of land, with barns which have conversion potential should we
ever need the extra space. Joe could probably do with a high-tech gym and a kickboxing studio to work out in, keep his famous martial arts skills up-to-scratch. Then again, we could just get a
bunch of animals. You know, for fun. Joe would
love
a puppy. I remember his late dog Dyson with a sad smile. How he adored him. I wonder if I could get him one as a Christmas present? Oh
my God, I am so tempted. Obviously I’d have to look after it… Hmm, might not be very practical.

Joe’s amazed at everything I’ve managed to do in such a short space of time. But I did have movers and packers to help me, and I have been walking around interior design shops for
weeks, using the credit card Joe’s PA Melanie sent me. I’m so relieved he likes everything. It’s all for him.

We sit at the kitchen bench table and I make him a freshly ground coffee while our croissants are heating up.

‘Now, are you sure you can eat these?’ I tease, bringing the pastries out of the oven.

He rolls his eyes, but chooses to ignore me. ‘What time do you think Jessie and Emily will come over?’

‘I don’t know. Sometime this afternoon, I imagine.’

‘They seem nice,’ he comments.

‘You were very good with them,’ I reply. ‘Do you find it weird, people reacting to you like that?’