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Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it. He’s like a brother to you. And there’s never been even a hint of anything more between you?”
How did Jenna always manage to zero in on the things Molly didn’t want to admit to? Like the slight lie on her CV about her fluency in French, or the fact that she accidentally kissed Stefan from marketing after one too many tequila shots at the karaoke bar six weeks ago?
“I knew it!” Jenna declared triumphantly. “You’re blushing. Tell all, immediately.”
Dammit! Fair skin and a huge capacity for embarrassment just wasn’t a fair combination.
“Fine.” Molly dumped her empty glass on a passing tray, carried by one of the senior account managers, and snagged another full one. “So we might have kissed. Just a little bit. Last New Year’s Eve.”
Understatement of the year.
“And this New Year’s Eve…?” Jenna leered at her, just a little bit.
Molly shrugged. “Probably nothing. I haven’t seen him since, and we’ve never talked about it. We were both pretty drunk. He might not even remember.”
Even if Molly was never going to forget. How could she? The slide of his hands up her arms, then down to her waist. The heat of his mouth on hers. The strength of his chest, pressing up against her. The wall at her back the only thing holding her up.
No. If Jake had forgotten all of that he wasn’t human. Or – and the thought sent a cold shiver running through her – it hadn’t been as incredible for him.
“I think you’re giving up too easily,” Jenna said, leaning back on her hands, her Prosecco finished and thoughts of another drink long since abandoned for the obviously more interesting pastime of tormenting Molly. “I think you should go after him.”
Molly shook her head, trying to forget about the ridiculous lingerie in her bag. “It’s a bad idea.” Even if her subconscious obviously thought it was a good one. And, she had to admit, it hadn’t seemed bad, in the early hours of January first, with tequila still coursing through her veins and the heady lust of possibility making it impossible to think straight.
“Why?” Jenna’s eyes widened. “Was it that bad?”
“No,” Molly groaned. “It was that good.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
The problem, of course, was what had happened next. The door had opened and Jake had wrenched himself away before anyone saw them. By the time Molly had managed to open her eyes properly, he was gone, and her brother was staring at her with suspicion.
Jake had avoided her the rest of the night.
“He’s not interested,” Molly said, wishing her friend wouldn’t push the point – but knowing she probably would.
“He kissed you. That’s a pretty good indicator of interest.”
“Apparently not.” She’d believed it could be, for the first couple of days, and had even made a stupid resolution – to get Jake into bed by the end of the year. But then he’d failed to reply to her most casual, long time friend texts, and hadn’t even shown up to her ‘Molly’s Moving to London!’ party.
She might not always be that great at subtle, but even Molly could take a hint that heavy.
Jenna frowned, and reached out to steal Molly’s cup for a sip of Prosecco. “This is actually a thing, isn’t it? I mean, I was just teasing, but you actually have a thing for this guy, don’t you?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Molly grabbed her drink back.
“Liar. I bet you’ve been lusting after him since puberty.”
Except she really, really hadn’t. It was just this last year that she seemed to have gone crazy – the first year in forever when she hadn’t seen Jake with any kind of regularity. Maybe this was just absence making the heart grow… lustful.
“No.” Molly spoke firmly, then winced. “Just the last twelve months.”
“Aha!” Jenna pointed a slightly wobbly finger at her, and Molly buried her head in her arms on the desk. One kiss, and she’d lost her mind over a man who’d only ever been a friend.
“I know, I know, I’m pathetic.” The words came out rather muffled, thanks to the fluffy cardigan she’d thrown over her work dress that day.
“Not pathetic.” Jenna tugged on her hair to make her look up. “You just need a plan to get what you want.”
“You think?” Was that hope in her voice? God, she really was pathetic. How clear did the guy need to make it that he wasn’t interested before she moved on?
And no, kissing Stefan at karaoke really didn’t count as moving on. Not least because it hadn’t caused even one per cent of the tingles her hurried encounter with Jake had.
“So, he’s going to be there all Christmas, right?” Jenna asked.
Molly nodded. “Normally he just arrives on Christmas Eve and leaves on Boxing Day – he doesn’t live that far away, and his office is in the city. But with Tim moving away to Switzerland for his new job in January, I think mum said she’d talked Jake into staying with us until New Year’s Day.”
“Perfect! That gives you nine and a bit days to win him over.” Jenna smiled in a way that Molly had already come to mistrust. “In fact, I’m going to set you a holiday challenge. Your mission, and you have no choice but to accept it, is to seduce that man! And then come back and tell me all about it, obvs.”
“What, are you going to double dog dare me?” Molly asked, forcing a laugh. She wasn’t serious, right?
“If I have to!” Jenna leant closer, as if about to impart some vital, probably inebriated, wisdom. “Look. You’ve been a single girl in London for more than six months now, yeah? And you’ve barely shown a hint of interest in anyone - apart from that blip with Stefan at the karaoke. Which means that being hung up on this Jake guy is affecting your chances of meeting a great guy and having some incredible sex. Right?”
Molly blinked. “You think that if I sleep with Jake over Christmas it will enable me to have more sex with other men down here in London next year?”
“Exactly!” Jenna patted her on the head like a proud teacher.
“There’s a flaw in this plan somewhere.” Except, she was a grown up now, right? Twenty-three, single, living it up in London. She had a proper job in a real office – not just working the same reception desk at the same hotel she’d been a chambermaid at when she was sixteen. She could totally do one-night stands and meaningless flings, right? Especially since she no longer lived with her parents.
So why hadn’t she? Could it be because of one stupid kiss with Jake? Maybe she did need to get him out of her system.
“Don’t be pessimistic!” Stealing Molly’s cup of Prosecco, Jenna hopped off the desk. “Come on, you’re going to miss your train. Go forth and seduce that man!”
Laughing, Molly stood, pushed her chair under her desk, double checked her out of office autoreply was on and shut down her computer.
“And I want a full debrief the moment you get back,” Jenna added, pulling up the handle of Molly’s case and handing it to her. “So don’t get too attached – you’ve got a life here now, remember?”
“If there’s anything to report, I promise you’ll hear it.” It was a fairly safe promise, Molly decided. After all, the chances of her managing to get Jake alone long enough in her parents’ four-bed terrace in the suburbs, with Dory and Lucas and Tim all home too, were phenomenally slim.
“Merry Christmas everyone!” Molly called out, as she headed for the front door. “See you in the New Year.”
When, no doubt, everything would be exactly the same as it was now. Unless she did something to change that.
Chapter 2 (#u39c17f38-e5a3-5de7-8d96-b08a72b5512a)
Molly couldn’t forget Jenna’s dare as she lugged her suitcase down the escalator towards the Northern Line, shaking the snow from her hair as she went. Even amongst the crowd of Christmas Eve Eve travellers, with the scarf that had been essential outside in the winter chill now making her overheated neck itch, she couldn’t help but remember that kiss, one more time.
Come to think of it, the memory probably wasn’t helping the overheating any more than the overcrowded tube was. She had to put Jake Sommers completely out of her head, and focus on her journey home.
She stood all the way to Euston, crammed up against the door and clutching the handle of her suitcase for dear life, then struggled up the escalator into the overground station. Dragging her case behind her, she wove through the holiday season crush, past at least ten people in Santa hats and avoiding a group of guys in suits warbling Silent Night, all the way to platform five.
The queue to get onto the train stretched right back to the main concourse, and Molly mentally thanked her mother for insisting she book ahead to make sure she got a seat. Sure, she thought as she handed her ticket to the inspector, there would probably be someone sitting in it by the time she got there, but hopefully the festive spirit would prevail and they’d give it up once she waved her ticket in their face.
The only problem was, once she was settled into her window seat, with the businessman beside her tapping away on his laptop, there wasn’t much to do but watch the snowflakes drifting down outside andthink about Jake.
Not just Jake, though. That line in her diary, the one she always started keeping daily on the first of January and slipped to monthly updates around mid February. The last line under the heading Goals For The Year.
The first two goals she’d actually knocked off by the summer. New job? Check. Move to London? Check.
But goal number three, which should have been the easiest of them all if that December 31st kiss had been anything to go by, had remained elusive.
Sleep with Jake Sommers.
A little hard to achieve when she hadn’t actually been in the same room as him all year, and not even in the same city most of the time.
Why had she even added that to the list anyway? Without it, she was two for two on the real, important things she wanted to achieve that year. Getting away from Liverpool and starting her own, grown up life in London had been a goal for so long that she’d started to doubt she’d ever make it. But she had. On her own terms, without any help from anyone.
Sure, maybe her tiny shared flat wasn’t a New York penthouse with weekends on a charmingly rustic farm with a fabulously gorgeous rich American, like Dory had somehow landed, but it was hers and she’d made it there herself. And that counted for a hell of a lot, especially to Molly.
But still, the last goal at the front of her journal nagged at her. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t set it; that wasn’t how things worked. Every New Year’s Eve when they were kids, Molly, Dory and Tim had huddled together in the girls’ room to make their resolutions. Sometimes they were joke ones – like the year Tim resolved to convince their mum to believe in aliens. Sometimes they were things that mattered, like exams and friendships. And sometimes they’d forced them on each other, like the year she and Dory ganged up to make Tim give up smoking when he was fifteen.
They’d stopped some years ago, and Molly wasn’t even really sure why. Probably it had something to do with them all being in different places for New Year – different friends, different jobs, different parties, even different cities. But Molly always set her goals for the year – even though her track record for meeting them wasn’t great. This year was the first year she stood a chance at a clean sweep. But not with the memory of Jake Sommers’s kiss and the unfulfilled resolution hanging over her head.
Outside the window, the snow that had been light and magical in London was growing heavier and more threatening. Beside her, Mr Businessman stopped clicking keys long enough to look up and say, “Well, it looks like getting a taxi will be fun tonight.”
Molly wasn’t worried about taxis. Her dad drove one of those, for heaven’s sake. But if he was out on a job and the trains stopped running then she might be in trouble. Well, not trouble, exactly. Dad would drive into the city to pick her up from Lime Street station if the local line shut down, but it wouldn’t be fun for either of them. Liverpool city centre two days before Christmas was not a place anyone wanted to drive around if they didn’t have to. Especially since she knew her dad had taken Christmas week off to spend with the family.
“I’m practically retired now, Moll,” he’d said, last time she called. “What’s the point of getting to my age if you can’t sit back and enjoy it, eh?”
Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t do a few jobs, when it suited him, Molly knew. Especially on the days when it was to his benefit to be out from under her mother’s feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to report that due to the inclement weather, there will be no local or national trains departing from our final stop, Liverpool Lime Street. There will be staff on hand to advise you on local hotels and taxi firms, and we hope to have all services running again tomorrow morning.” The crackly announcement sent waves of muttering through the carriage.
“Damn it,” Molly murmured, reaching for her phone. She’d known she should have booked an earlier train, but Jenna had been adamant that she couldn’t miss the work drinks that evening.
She tried the home phone first, but there was no reply. Firing off a text to her mum, she called Tim next.
“What’s up sis?” The sound of a fruit machine paying out in the background put pay to any hopes of her brother picking her up.
“You’re in the pub?” Maybe he’d be somewhere in the city centre and they could travel home together. That could work. He could carry her damn suitcase for one thing. Brothers had to have some uses, right?
“Yeah.” He said it as if anyone with half a brain would be. “It’s Christmas Eve Eve. Why aren’t you?”
“You know Christmas Eve Eve isn’t really a thing, right? Never mind. Look, I’m on the train into Lime Street now, but the trains to Crosby aren’t running. Which pub are you in?”
“The George and Dragon. Wanted to be within staggering distance. Hey! Guess who’s here tonight!”
“Someone sober enough to pick me up from Lime Street?” Molly asked, without much hope.
“God, no. You’re shit out of luck there, sorry. No, Lara’s here! Wanna talk to her?” He passed the phone over before he could reply.
“Tell me you’re nearly home!” Lara yelled down the phone. “I need my best friend back!”
“Almost,” Molly promised. “Or I would be if I could get someone to pick me up from Lime Street. Are you going to come round tomorrow?”
“Have I ever missed mulled wine and mince pies at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve?” Lara asked, making it clear through her tone that Molly was an idiot for asking.
“Not willingly,” Molly admitted. “Good. I can tell you all about London.”
“Yeah. Great. Here’s Tim.” The phone line went muffled, then crackly, then Tim was back.
“Is she okay?” Molly asked, frowning at her reflection in the window. “She sounded… off.”
“That’ll be the cinnamon flavoured vodka,” Tim guessed. “They’ve got this special offer on tonight. I have to tell you about it—”
“Tim,” Molly interrupted. “I kind of had a reason for calling. The about to be stuck in Lime Street thing? Do you know where Dad is? No one’s answering at home.”
“He’s gone to pick up Dory and whatshisname from Manchester airport. Guess he might be a while if the weather’s bad.”
“Lucas. You know his name is Lucas.” A while, in this case, could mean anything up to a couple of days. Damn it.
“Yeah, whatever. And Mum’s over at Auntie Susan’s at some sort of girls’ party thing. Ann Summers or what have you.”
“It’s a cooking party,” Molly said, finally remembering. “And God, thanks for that image.” She sighed. “Okay, well, if you speak to either of them, tell them I’ll try and get a taxi home, if I can find one in this weather.” She dreaded to think how much it would cost, but she just wanted to get home. It was Christmas, after all.
“No, hang on Moll.” Tim sounded suddenly sober, the big brother swooping in to take care of things again. She should be grateful, Molly knew. After all, hadn’t she called hoping for his help? But the assumption that she couldn’t even be trusted to get a taxi on her own grated.
“It’s fine, Tim. You’ve been drinking, and so has Mum probably.” It was Christmas, after all. Half of Britain was probably plastered. “Dad’s miles away. I can just grab a taxi. It’ll be fine.”
“Just wait a min. I’ll call you back in five.” The phone went dead in her hand. Apparently it was Super Tim to the rescue again.
Fingers still wrapped around her phone, she stared back out of the window. The flakes were bigger, heavier now, like the granddaddies of the little flurries they’d had in London. These snowflakes meant business.
“Well, at least it will be a white Christmas,” she whispered to herself. Dad would be pleased. He always complained that it wasn’t really Christmas without a snowman in the back garden.
She jumped as her phone buzzed, but it was a text, not a call.
Couldn’t get through – are you in a tunnel? Anyway, all sorted. He’ll be there to pick you up at Lime Street when you arrive. See you in the pub! Tx
He? Which he?
Molly felt her breath start to freeze in her lungs as she realised there was only one person Tim would call for a favour like this on Christmas Eve Eve.
Jake Sommers.
Chapter 3 (#u39c17f38-e5a3-5de7-8d96-b08a72b5512a)
Jake ended the phone call with rather more than the required force, cursing hands free technology for the first time in its existence. He’d almost ignored the call from Tim anyway – not because he didn’t want to talk to his best friend, but because he knew Tim was in the pub, probably sloshed, and Jake was going to be there in an hour or so, anyway. What did they need to talk about at this point? They had a whole week of festivities to enjoy together. Himself, Tim and Tim’s family, all pretending that Jake was one of them, even when everyone knew he wasn’t.
He was, as ever, the poor orphan child, given a place out of the snow with mulled wine and mince pies and happy people, for the holidays.
