Lynsey James - A Winter’s Wish Come True

My brain cuts the train of thought off, but I know exactly what happened next. Insults were hurled, feelings were hurt, and doors were slammed. Things were said that we’d never be able to take back and our perfect relationship was shattered forever.

In an effort to distract myself, I decide to go and see where Emma is with our next round of drinks. She’s taking longer than normal, and I hope she hasn’t got into yet another spat with Ben the barman. They split up a few months ago and things aren’t exactly amicable between them …

I leave the comfort of the pub’s snug, where our secluded little booth is, and venture out into the main bar. I see the back of Emma’s head and notice she’s in deep conversation with someone. The closer I get, the louder her voice rises above the pounding indie music blaring over the pub’s ancient speakers.

‘No, you can’t see her! You want to just swan back in here after a year and expect everything to be just as you left it? I don’t think so!’

My blood freezes. She can’t be talking to …?

‘Scott?’

I round the corner and see him leaning on the bar. He’s slightly more tanned and his hair is a bit lighter, but he’s still the same in every other way. When his eyes lock with mine, a swarm of butterflies release themselves into my stomach. My first instinct is to run to him, throw my arms around him and welcome him back. However, I decide to restrain myself and wait for his reaction first.

‘Hi,’ he says, lifting his hand in a wave.

I wait for him to say something, anything else other than ‘hi’, but nothing comes. The butterflies disappear and boiling rage takes their place.

‘That’s all you can say?’ I exclaim. ‘You’ve been away for a whole year, and all you’ve got to say is hi?! You didn’t just pop down to the shops, you moved to bloody Australia!’

He swallows hard and walks over to me, running his hands through his hair. ‘Cleo, I know I messed up and I’m sorry. There hasn’t been a day in the last year where I haven’t thought about you.’

I scoff and fold my arms across my chest, a silent warning to him not to even think about approaching me.

‘Isn’t that nice?’ I bite back. ‘I’m really glad to hear that; it makes all the times I spent wondering what I did wrong, or why I wasn’t enough for you, seem worth it. Thanks for that, Scott!’

Hurt flashes across his face and I’m ashamed to admit how satisfied it makes me feel. His face has always had a habit of betraying how he really feels. Especially those beautiful eyes of his.

‘I never should’ve left you,’ he replies, his voice cracking a little. ‘It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. I’m back for good now, and I’d really like to make it up to you. If you’ll let me, that is.’

I roll my eyes and let out a hollow laugh that’s laced with venom. ‘There’s no way you can possibly make this up to me, so don’t even bother trying. We’re done. Come on, Emma.’

She walks over to me with our drinks and I spin on my heel to head back to our booth. I feel his eyes burning into me and can’t resist a glance over my shoulder to look at him. To my dismay, the butterflies return as our gazes lock again. There’s a determination in his eyes that suggests he’s not going to give up on winning me back so easily.

‘God, I can’t believe he’s back,’ Emma says with a sigh. ‘Fancy just turning up to the pub like that, as if everything could just fall back into place! Cheeky bastard.’

I pick up my drink and down as much of it as I can. ‘He might’ve given me all that “I’m going to win you back” crap, but I won’t let him near me again. Trust me Emma, I’m completely through with him.’

Liar, liar, pants on fire, a little voice at the back of my mind whispers. Deep down, I know Scott and I will collide again. The magnetic pull between us felt as strong as ever when I saw him standing at the bar. There’s a sense of inevitability surrounding his grand return to Silverdale; fate will find a way to bring us back together.

It’s only a matter of time.

*

It happens, of course.

After a series of apparently ‘chance’ encounters around Silverdale, we find our way back to each other. We come together in a moment of pure heat and passion, without a thought for what the consequences might be.

‘God I’ve missed you,’ he murmurs as his lips caress my bare skin.

‘I’ve missed you too,’ I breathe, allowing the moment to sweep me away. As my entire body shivers with delight, all I can think about is right now. I don’t care what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour or day. There’s only me and Scott, right here right now.

That is, until the next morning, when I wake up alone.

Chapter One

Eight Weeks Later

As the song goes, guess it’s true I’m not good at a one-night stand .

Eight weeks have passed since Scott and I wound up in bed together again, and it’s safe to say things haven’t been easy between us since. Well, they wouldn’t be since he buggered off before I had the chance to make post-coital tea and toast.

As I roll over, some part of me still expecting cuddles and a good morning kiss, my heart sinks. Although the other side of the bed has been empty for a good while now, I’m still not quite used to it.

I haul myself out of bed and feel a wave of nausea wash over me. It’s been there for a good few weeks now; most likely a virus that I just can’t seem to shift. Fragments of the morning after our one-night stand play in my head; waking up feeling hopeful that things would move forward between us; a dull ache in my stomach when I realised he’d legged it.

My head hurts just thinking about it.

Suddenly, a cold sweat grips me and I rush off to the bathroom to be violently sick. When it’s over, I splash some cold water over my face and take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Being sick like this brings back some unpleasant memories that I’d rather not think about.

When I move back into the bedroom, I see something at the window that makes my heart twist in my chest: Scott passing on his way to work. He stops, looks up at the window and waves. Hot tears well up in my eyes and I bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying. I turn away from the window and screw my eyes shut, knowing that he’ll probably walk away a few seconds later. We’ve been in this routine for nearly two months now and it hasn’t got any easier.

He’s tried to tell me how sorry he is for leaving so suddenly. Apparently, he had a job interview to get to and thought I might need some space after our night together to figure things out. I know he wants us to try again, but I can’t let that happen. He’s left me once already, what’s to stop him doing it again?

How on earth did my happily-ever-after go so badly wrong?

*

My mum always says there’s no better cure for a broken heart than throwing yourself into helping other people.

I hold that piece of advice entirely responsible for why I turn up an hour early for my Carb Counters meeting. As group leader, it’s my job to get the space ready, which usually only takes about five minutes at most. There really isn’t an exact science to putting chairs in a circle, after all.

My two best friends, Emma and Zara, have come along on the pretext of giving me a hand, but I know they want the gossip on Scott, and they know that I know. I’ve deliberately not told them anything, preferring to keep the details to myself. I don’t really want them to know that I woke up to an empty bed that morning eight weeks ago, and I’m not sure if that’s out of embarrassment or because I don’t want them to think badly of Scott.