“Do you have any other rooms available?” I ask, standing straight and sniffing in a calming breath.
“I’m sorry ma’am but, we’re fully booked for Christmas.”
“There is nothing?”
She shakes her head, her look pitying. I can’t help the groan that leaves me. Jake checks his watch and sighs.
“I can drive home, Nel. I only live an hour away.”
I look over at him, he looks tired. We stayed later than planned helping Lisa tidy up despite her protests while Harry entertained the family in the lounge. He’s only had one glass of wine with dinner, but I can’t say I’d be too happy with him driving in the dark for an hour on icy roads.
“It’s fine,” I say, resigned. “I mean, if you want to leave, sure, go ahead. But you must be tired, and you’ve been drinking.”
“I drove us here,” he argues with a smile.
“Still, I’d rather you didn’t drive more than necessary. We can get through tonight and we’ll sort something out tomorrow.”
He nods, grabbing the handle of my case once again and waiting expectantly for me to follow, which of course, I do. The room is nice—really nice. Exactly what I’d wanted for my planned posts, but I definitely won’t get a chance to do them while Jake is here. The plush king-sized bed crowded with cushions of varying jewel tones in satins and velvets stands proudly in the centre of the room. Like a taunting devil, smirking at me.Eurgh. I scan the room carefully, twice for good measure, and see there is not a sofa or chaise lounge in sight. The bed is the only option for sleeping. I can feel anxiety roiling in my belly, mixing with the cocktail and wine.
“Festive,” Jake says with a smile, jerking his chin toward the small desk where a fibre optic tree sits.
I’m not feeling festive, I’m feeling exhausted. I had a busy morning in the studio followed by travelling on the crowded train three days before Christmas and I’m just about ready to collapse. Jake drops his duffle on one side of the bed and wheels my case to the other. I guess we have sides of the bed now. Why does that make the knot in my stomach bunch tighter?
In silence, because I’m not sure I have any small talk left in me, I head to my side of the bed, take my coat and hat off, placing them on the small armchair. I kneel on the soft black carpet and unzip my case, lifting the lid and quickly snapping it shut again as I realise what’s on top. The several sets of new lingerie I was sent from my sponsor, Soft Curves, lay on top of everything I need to get ready for bed. I glance up at Jake and he’s staring at my closed case. He saw. I’m in literal Hell.
“I, uh…I’ll go use the bathroom,” he says backing into the closed door, before turning round and opening it to slip through quickly.
I hurriedly rearrange my case, shoving handfuls of lace and silk to the bottom and bringing my bathroom stuff to the top. I groan when I realise the pyjamas I brought are a matching set of tiny shorts that let half my substantial arse hang out, and a strappy tank top in green satin with cute little mistletoe sprigs all over. It was another gift that I’d modelled for Soft Curves back in November to help them launch their Christmas line and I thought it would be cute to bring them for Christmas. Of course, when I’d made that decision, I hadn’t counted on sharing a bed with Jake Partridge. I don’t know what would be worse; Jake seeing me in this barely-there ensemble, or my usual ratty t-shirt and Garfield pyjama bottoms that I normally sleep in.
With Jake in the bathroom, I take a few breaths before starting my usual night-time skincare, taking comfort in the methodical routine. Makeup removed, I massage in my night cream, dot eye cream around my eyes, and use the cool facial roller on my cheeks and forehead.
“What is that?” I jump at Jake’s voice; I didn’t even hear him coming out of the bathroom.
“It’s a jade Derma-Roller.” When he just blinks at me, I can feel the slight pull of a smile and I continue. “It’s supposed to boost collagen and give you a good glow and reduce puffiness.”
“Does it work?” He raises a quizzical brow.
“No clue but I saw it on TikTok and I’m a sucker for an advert,” I say with a shrug.
He huffs out a laugh, that sexy as Hell smile on his beautiful face making my insides bubble. “Well you look glowy and unpuffy to me, so I guess it works.” He winks at me and my mouth dries. “Bathroom’s yours Forrest.”
I grab my pyjamas and toiletry bag and head into the bathroom. His things are lined up on one side of the sink leaving the other side for me. I look at the closed door for a brief second before picking up his aftershave and giving it a sniff. That spice and orangey citrus smell fills my nostrils and I see Jake through closed eyes. What the Hell does Jake wear to bed? Will he be shirtless? Because, honestly, I think I might have an aneurism.
I undress and look at myself in the mirror. I have worked hard on accepting myself, on loving myself, and embracing the body I live in. Eighty percent of the time, I do just fine. But looking at my reflection right now, I don’t see Nel Forrest, I see Nelly-Belly. My tummy is soft and jiggles when I move. Without the makeup, there’s nothing contouring my face into acceptable angles; instead it’s round and I have a double chin. Harry’s joke when I declined ice-cream runs through my head with everyone chuckling because of course it’s funny that the only fat person in attendance wouldn’t want dessert. I wanted it, but I had this image of everyone staring at me while I ate, judging me, and I couldn’t bear it.
I put my satin pjs on and examine myself closely. My arms are too big and my legs have dimples that most would call cellulite. I don’t keep up with my fake tan in the winter, so I’m pale too. Without the support of my favourite bra, my large breasts hang a little lower than I’d like and I’m worried that I may wake up with one trying to make a hasty escape from my top. That would just be the cherry on top of the Christmas pudding; Jake Partridge waking up with my unrestrained tit in his face. Not that his face would be anywhere near my tits.Right?
With a deep breath, I open the door and find Jake stood right in front of me in plaid pyjama bottoms andno shirt. I must lose all the colour in my face.
“You okay, Nelly-Belly?”
I snap. “Can younotcall me that?” My fists clench at my sides as I stand in the doorway to the bathroom, my satin short shorts and camisole feeling far too exposing.
“I, uh. I’m sorry.” He seems so confused and concerned that some of my temper dies, but tears sting at the back of my eyes as the evening weighs me down.
“It’s fine,” I sigh. “I’m just tired.” I crawl into the bed and lie on my side, giving Jake my back, hugging the edge of the mattress to keep as much distance between us as possible. The bed dips as he presumably gets in too. I switch off the light to try and get some sleep, but I can feel the tension bunching up my muscles from the evening gone, and from the fact that I’m in bed with Jake Freakin’ Partridge. The light from the fibre optic tree that neither of us bothered turning off still sets an ambient glow across the room changing from pink to purple to blue.
“Is it because I’m not family?” Jake asks gently.
