Unwrapping Her Perfect Match: A London Legends Christmas Novella (14 page)

He faded away as she flicked through it, her
face tightening incrementally. “It’s got space to list calorie
counts and fat content every day. That’s…useful.”

Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck fuck. It wasn’t what
he’d thought it was. It was a diary to help someone lose weight.
“Gwen—”

“Cheers, John. It’ll be really useful.” The
smile she gave him was brief and quivered a little at the edges.
Her eyes sparkled, but not with tears of gratitude. Between them
and the embarrassed flush coloring her cheeks and the gradual hunch
of her shoulders, he could tell he’d just humiliated her.

He’d wanted to give her something special,
and he’d given her just about the most insulting thing he could
have.

Furious with himself, he shoved himself to
his feet and strode out of the room. Anger welled up inside, and he
had to get it out before he exploded in front of both of them. He
didn’t want to scare anyone, and the way he felt right now
terrified even him.

He went into his office, where a punching bag
hung for situations like this. Without bothering to strap on any
gloves, he fisted his hands and went at it. Over and over he
battered the bag, ignoring the black spots dancing around his
vision and the sharp ache of his neck and ribs. Ignoring everything
until a soft hand landed on his biceps, and he reigned himself in
before he could accidently hurt Gwen even more than he already
had.

When John turned to face her, some of her
embarrassment fled only to be replaced with concern. He was sweaty
and pale and his pupils had dilated. “John, please sit down.”

His strong jaw worked from side to side, as
if he were biting back everything he wanted to say.

“Sit down. Seriously. It’s okay. I know you
didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not insulted. It was really
thoughtful of you to get me something at such short notice.” She
truly meant it. She hadn’t expected any gifts from him. In fact,
other than her initial gut reaction when she saw he’d got her a
food diary, she mainly felt annoyed that he had gone out yesterday
and worried that he would collapse on her now. “Sit. Now.”

He sank into a swivel chair and ran both
hands through his hair, giving it a hard tug that made her wince.
Worry lined his face. “I’m so sorry, Gwen.”

“I know, but you don’t have to be. I just
want you to be okay. Can I take your pulse?” she asked reaching for
him, but he tugged himself away.

“No,” he snapped. “Don’t mother me, or nurse
me or whatever it is you’re trying to do. Stop trying to make
yourself useful. It’s unnecessary.”

She stiffened. Maybe it was necessary for
her. Ever since The Incident, she’d protected herself from awkward
situations either by hiding or by focusing on practicalities.
Making herself useful meant people would see her value. It meant
she would see her own value.

Oh, damn.

“Gwen, I…” He squeezed his eyes closed.
“Thank you for being here and everything you’ve done.”

No, no…don’t thank me. Don’t want me just
because I built a bridge between you and your daughter. You just
told me I don’t need to make myself useful, so don’t thank me for
it now. Want me for
me.

He let out a shuddering breath. “My life
is…complicated…right now.”

Her heart stopped. It juddered to a dead
halt, she was sure of it. When she found her voice, it only had the
power to whisper. “What are you saying?”

He finally met her gaze. His was so full of
regret that she could actually feel her heart restart with an
agonizing thud.

“I’m moving to France. To Toulon.”

“Oh.” She just…what could she say? “Oh.”

So many questions, all of them competing for
space in her brain. The only one to pop out was, “When?”

“At the end of the season. Late May,
probably. Early June, if we keep doing as well as we have been and
make it to the championship round.”

“I mean, when did you find out?”

His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed.
“Yesterday. When you were skating with Agnes.”

“Oh.” God, she felt like a parrot. A really
bloody stupid parrot. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.
Agnes will be thrilled.”

He reached out and tried to take her hand,
but she pulled it back, not sure she wanted him to have it. A
muscle twitched at the corner of his eyelid. “I wanted to tell you,
but I didn’t know how. I’d really like to keep seeing you, but…long
term…I don’t know—”

“Sure.” She nodded as if she completely
understood. And then it came to her. She
did
understand. She
understood that she didn’t want someone who could promise her a day
at a time before he abandoned her. She understood that she wanted
more. “Um, I don’t know how this will work. I’ve never had a
long-distance relationship before.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be long distance.”
He gazed up at her from his chair, his expression guarded. “I know
this is presumptuous, but…well, have you ever thought about living
in France?”

She blinked, shaking her head a little like
it might fix her obviously faulty hearing. “I’m…I don’t…”
Apparently she needed a cure for her faulty tongue, too. She
cleared her throat and tried again. “What do you mean,
exactly?”

He took her hands in his. This time she was
too stunned to stop him. “You could come live with me. Think about
it—it’s perfect. You already speak the language. And you get on so
well with Agnes. This feels…it feels
right
to me, Gwen.
Every since I met you, everything has felt exactly right. Like we
fit each other. Like we belong together.”

Her mouth went dry. She opened and closed her
mouth a few times before she could respond. Brilliant. Now she
looked like a guppy. “John, I think this might be your concussion
talking.”

“No. No, it’s absolutely not.” He stood
abruptly and gently encouraged her to sit in his chair. Then he
pulled a little stool over and sat in front of her, bringing him
down to her eye level. Still a thrill, finding a man who had to
lower
himself to look her in the eyes. But not such a thrill
that she could ignore the lunacy of his words. “I know this sounds
strange because we’ve only just met—”

“A
week
ago.”

His hands squeezed hers. “But it’s been a
significant week. One that’s changed my life.” He squeezed her
hands as he ticked off each of the changes. “I’ve met you. I’ve
finally got a foundation to build on with Agnes. I’ve got this
transfer offer. These are all things I’ve wanted for years, and
they’re coming together at the same time. That can’t be a
coincidence.”

Her eyes stung at his subtle message:
I’ve
been waiting years to meet you.
What an amazing gift to know
that this beautiful man felt like she clicked into his life,
fulfilled something he’d been missing for a long time.

But she was more than a plug to fill a gap.
She realized that, even if he didn’t. Her face tensed up, and she
worked her jaw from side to side to try to loosen it. “John, I’m
trying to be happy that everything’s coming together for you, even
though it means you’re moving away. But please listen to what you
just said. Everything’s coming together for
you
. Where am I
in that?”

“Right at the center! Other than the
transfer, all these changes are down to you.” His expression grew
panicked. It was a look she’d seen on hundreds of patients,
thousands of families, as they felt someone precious slipping away
from them. Seeing it on John and knowing it was there because he
was losing her made her whole body want to scream. “This is a huge
move for me, sweetheart. I—I need you by my side, just like I
needed you these last couple of days. I need you to help me keep
talking to Agnes. I need you to help me figure out what the hell’s
going on in a country where I don’t speak the language. I just…I
need
you.”

“Of course it seems easy and perfect if I
uproot myself and move to France—
you
won’t be the one
sacrificing anything. Listen to what you’re saying. You want me to
give up everything I have so I can come be your interpreter, or
even your crutch so you don’t have to do the hard work yourself.
Where are
my
goals,
my
plans in all of this? Do you
even know what they are?”

He blinked, his breath hitching audibly.
“I—”

“
You
again?” She pulled her hands away
from his suddenly slack grip and pressed her fist hard against her
chest, but her heart just kept aching. “Let me tell you a few
things about me, John. I love my job. I love my family.”

“But you can get a new job. I’m sure they
need nurses in France. And you wouldn’t even have to work if you
didn’t want to. I’ll be making enough to support us both.”

“Oh my God.” She laughed. Not a pretty laugh.
An awkward, shrill laugh. “You’re joking right? I mean, I speak
French well enough to chat with patients but not about medical
issues. I’ve got a career with very specialized language. If I’m
under pressure and mishear something one of my colleagues says,
someone could die. You’re asking me to give up my whole life,
everything, and what? Move in with you? Be your stay-at-home WAG?
Because you might not have noticed, but I’m not into shopping
sprees or shoes or tanning sessions. And I’m really, really not
into being dependant on a man—or making hasty decisions that affect
my whole future.”

John flinched, and Gwen nearly apologized for
her rant. But she stopped herself. She was through saying sorry for
her feelings. No more apologizing for being awkward by having her
own thoughts, feelings, dreams and life.

But one look at John’s panicky face made all
the fight drain out of her. This conversation wasn’t good for
either of them but particularly not for him. They both needed to
calm the hell down and take some time to refocus. She sighed. “We
don’t need to settle this now, do we? It’s Christmas Day.
Let’s—”

He started shaking his head before she’d
finished. “I’ve spent ten years in a long-distance relationship
with my daughter, Gwen. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t start a
relationship with the whole long-distance thing staring me in the
face.”

Stabbing her in the chest would’ve been
gentler. Her whole body went into shock. Pain and regret made the
room stifling. Mentally gathering up all the broken pieces of
herself, she forced herself to stand and walk to the door. “Well. I
guess that’s that, then.”

Don’t break down. You’ve survived
worse.
She paused in the doorway, pretending a bravado she
didn’t feel. “These last couple of days have been lovely, John, but
they haven’t been real. I think we’ve both felt that. They’ve been
a break from reality for both of us…quite a magical break, really.”
Her voice broke, and John reached for her again, dropping his arm
when she stepped back. “I guess we were only meant to be here for
each other at this time, when we both needed it. Perhaps it just
wasn’t meant to last beyond Christmas.”

He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping
and his head drooping. His mouth moved as if he were biting the
insides of his cheeks. “What now?”

The answer killed her, and so did the
nonchalant shrug she forced herself to give him. “We do as we
planned. When Caroline arrives this afternoon, I’ll wish you all a
happy Christmas and go over to my family’s for dinner.” She slapped
her palms against her thighs, rubbing them in an attempt to ease
the ache in her fingers. If only she could do the same with her
stinging eyes and her cracked-wide-open heart.

Focus on something else. Anything
else.
“How about I help prepare your dinner so you can spend
some alone time with Agnes? This’ll probably be the last chance you
get for a while.”

Practical. Useful.

Add
brokenhearted
, and that was
Gwen.

Gwen trudged up the slushy street to the
house she’d grown up in in Islington. It had started snowing that
morning, around the time Gwen had been chopping the bases off
sprouts so she could roast them with walnuts for John, Caroline and
Agnes’s dinner. She’d heard Agnes’s delighted shout from the living
room, but the sight of the fat flakes falling to the ground hadn’t
done much to lift Gwen’s own spirits.

The street was dark, but the houses were
bright. Though it was only five in the afternoon, the sun had
disappeared nearly an hour ago. Christmas lights strung along the
outsides of the terraced houses threw colorful reflections on the
already-melting snow. Most of the houses along this street had bay
windows looking in on living rooms and dining rooms. As Gwen walked
along, the warmly lit interiors showed family after family settling
down to eat or to play games.

She reached her parents’ house, opened the
squeaky black gate and walked up the little path to their door. She
slid the key she’d had since she was fourteen years old into the
lock and let herself in. Shaking a few flakes of snow off her
parka, she stripped off her winter clothes and hung her jacket,
scarf and wooly hat in the hall.

“Gwen!” Tess stood in the doorway to their
living room. “You’re here.”

Her tone betrayed her surprise. Gwen tried
not to acknowledge that she was surprised herself. “Of course I am.
Why wouldn’t I be?”

Tess’s brows drew together. “Uh, okay. Of
course you’re here. I’d just thought—never mind. Come into the
living room. I want to tell you something.”

Just then, one of the lights wrapped around
the staircase banister twinkled in exactly the right way to create
a spark of reflection on Tess’s finger. Gwen gasped, her hands
flying to her mouth. “Oh, my God! What is that?”

She rushed over to Tess, who failed miserably
to bite back a gleeful grin. Gwen grabbed her left hand. “Tess,
Tess, oh my God!”