Page 24 of It Happened on Christmas Eve
‘Ignore it,’ Adam groans, burying his face into my neck, and oh my goodness, biting it a little.
I return to kissing him and then doorbell dings out again, followed by an insistent knocking.
‘I’ll just get it,’ I say, reluctantly pulling away from him, being careful not to nudge his leg.
‘Nooooooo!’ Adam grumbles as I hop off him and head for the door. ‘I’m not even expecting anyone. Probably some pissed people at the wrong house. Hurry back!’
I head to the door, smiling with giddiness.
Opening it up, I see a woman standing there. A very beautiful woman with long black hair and bright blue eyes. She’s dressed in an elegant cream coloured coat and holding a fancy vintage looking suitcase.
‘Oh!’ she says, when she sees me, her face crumpling a little with despair. ‘Um… is Adam here?’
My stomach sinks. This has got to be Adam’s ex Danielle.
Shit.
I reluctantly open the door wider and tell her to come in. She follows me into the living room where Adam jumps off the sofa in surprise. He’s balancing on one leg so I hurry over to support him in case he falls.
‘Dani. What are you doing here?’
Danielle carefully places her suitcase on the floor and takes a deep breath. ‘I’ve just flown over from New York. Adam, I need to speak to you. We need to talk about this.’
Adam sits back down on the sofa. ‘We have nothing to talk about. Besides, I’m busy.’
‘I can see that,’ Danielle hisses, throwing me an angry look even thought I am technically very innocent.
‘Hmmm… I should probably go,’ I say, my stomach churning at how awkward and uncomfortable this is.
‘Don’t go,’ Adam says softly, reaching his hand towards mine.
‘That’s probably for the best,’ Danielle says at the same time. ‘Adam, I made a huge mistake. We need to sort this out. I’m still your fiancée.’
I look at Adam who doesn’t deny that Danielle is still his fiancée. He looks totally torn.
Of course he’s torn.Shecheated onhim, not the other way around. Of course he still loves her. He was all in.I’mthe rebound. We’re just two lonely people hooking up at Christmas because we need a distraction.
Dammit.
I quickly grab my puffa jacket off the stair bannister and run out of the house.
I wait for two minutes outside, half expecting Adam to come after me and giving him a little extra time because of the whole broken leg thing. But he doesn’t follow me out.
Stupid Phoebe. Of course he doesn’t.
Looking at my watch, I jog to Tesco, at least hoping to salvage my noodles.
Great. It is closed and shuttered. I yell at the sky in despair.
How can life go from being so bad to so good and then back to so bad all in one day.
‘Merry Christmas!’ a drunken bypasser cries as he stumbles past me.
Yes. Merry Christmas, Phoebe.
* * *
I get back to my apartment on Lonsdale Road, my stomach rumbling from hunger. I pad through the quiet, prettily decorated living room into the small glossy kitchen and put myself a slightly gnarly looking potato into the microwave. That will have to do, I suppose. I eat the potato and when I’ve finished I have a little cry because a) the potato is the saddest thing I’ve ever eaten. And b) although it’s better that Adam and I never got started, I, to my surprise, really really liked him. And fancied him. And I’m still horny. And c) let’s face it, a good cathartic cry has been a long time coming.
