Elliot just nods, and holds open the car door for me, saying nothing. Once we’re inside, though, he produces a flask of hot chocolate he’s somehow managed to procure from the surprisingly amendable Sandra, and we sit together sipping it as our bodies gradually start to thaw.
“That was amazing,” I say, watching as the last couple of skaters glide across the lake in front of us. “I’m glad you suggested it now.”
“I’m glad you let me talk you into it,” Elliot replies. “I know you weren’t keen on the idea to start with.”
“No. But, like you said, it’s good to give things a chance.”
We fall silent, both of us thinking the same thing.
“It was brave of you,” Elliot says suddenly. “Telling your dad about Florida, earlier. That can’t have been easy for you.”
“No,” I admit, swirling the hot chocolate around in the flask before handing it back to him. “No, it wasn’t. I still feel terrible about it.”
For a moment, the only sound in the car comes from the heater, which is turned up to full-blast, in an attempt to warm us up again.
“You know, I meant what I said,” Elliot says quietly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But you are going to have to make a decision soon, Holly. I only have a few days left here. If you’re going to come back with me, we have to start organizing that. Book you a ticket, let my parents know you’re going to be coming with me…”
“I know, I know,” I reply, interrupting him. “I’ve … I’ve been trying not to think about how long we have left. But I guess it’s becoming inescapable, isn’t it? There’s just five days until Christmas Eve. That’s nothing, really.”
I think of Dad, sitting alone upstairs in the flat, eating his solitary bowl of tomato soup, probably with the label still sticking out of the back of his sweater and only the creepy elf doll for company, and my eyes fill with tears again.
“It’s not his fault, you know,” I tell Elliot, blinking them back. “For being so overprotective of me. He’s doing his best to let me go. I know he is. It’s just … well, he loves me. That’s all.”
“But I love you, too.”
The words come out of the darkness like a confession. Which I guess is exactly what it is.
“Shit,” Elliot mumbles, staring down at his hands on the flask. “That just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it. Well, I mean, Ididmean what I said, obviously, I just … I didn’t mean it to sound like I was giving you some kind of ultimatum. I—”
“I love you too, Elliot,” I say, interrupting him before he can tie himself in any more of a knot. “And Ididmean to say it.AndI meant what I said.”
“Really?” His smile feels like a warm blanket on a crisp, cold night. And the kiss that comes after it feels like coming home after a long time away. Which isn’t something I’d know anythingabout, ironically enough. But I’m starting to think I might just be brave enough to find out. Honestly, if he keeps on kissing me like this — like his actual life might depend on it — I might just be brave enough for anything.
“I’m not asking you to choose between me and your Dad, Holly,” Elliot says seriously, when we pull apart at last. “I’d never do that. I’m just asking you to choose yourself for once. Do what makesyouhappy. I think that’s what he’d want you to do, too, if you were to really talk to him about it. And I think you need to do that; don’t you?”
I shiver, even though the car heater is still blasting away.
“I know I do,” I reply, also knowing that Ireallydon’t want to. “And I will. I promise. I’ll do it soon.”
I don’t bother adding that I’llhaveto do it soon, because Elliot already knows that.
He knows there’s only five days left until Christmas Eve; just five days until both of our lives change.
And now I just need to decide what, exactly, that change is going to be…
19
PRESENT
It snows steadily through the night, and by the time I wake up the next morning, the world outside my bedroom window has been transformed into the kind of winter wonderland that makes me almost glad I told Dad I wouldn’t be coming into the bookstore today. Because I might be spending the morning with Elliot Sinclair instead, but, hey: at least I won’t have to listen to Levi bang on about how it’s the first real snowfall in Bramblebury in ten years, almost as if Elliot’s return has fulfilled some kind of ancient prophecy and triggered a second winter.
“I know, I know. I should’ve said no. I don’t know what came over me.”
I’m standing in the kitchen at home, speaking to my aunt Lorraine, who I suspect has been sent here by Dad, to make sure I’m still in my right mind, given that this is the first day off I’ve had in months.
“It’s definitely anunexpecteddecision from you,” Lorraine says, the expression on her face making it clear that she’s going to be reporting back that no, I’m most definitelynotin my right mind. “I thought you said you didn’t want anything more to dowith Elliot Sinclair? Or have I been picking you up wrong all these years? Has the complaining just been, I don’t know, some strange kind of performance art, and you’ve been secretly hoping to see him all this time?”
Lorraine looks at me shrewdly, and I turn quickly to check my reflection in the mirror by the door.
