Page 5 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

I opened the front door, and got the shock of my life. Well, of my month.

It wasn’t my sushi order after all: it was Mum and my sister, Anneka.

‘SURPRISE!’ they shouted in unison.

‘Oh! Hi.’

‘Well, aren’t you going to invite us in?’ Mum asked.

I stood aside, still in shock. They’d never visited the flat before. Now I understood why Anneka had asked for my address recently; it wasn’t so they could send me a Christmas card (they never sent Christmas cards) – it was so they could scare the living daylights out of me while I was braless and hungry. Where was my damn sushi, anyway?

‘Top floor,’ I instructed, trudging up the staircase behind them. What on earth were they doing here, unannounced?

‘You don’t seem that happy to see us, Flo-no,’ Anneka said, looking back at me as she effortlessly bounded up the stairs two at a time thanks to her long legs. I rearranged my mouth into a less disappointed shape.

‘It’s always nice to see you both. But you know how much surprises freak me out.’

It wasn’t just surprises I disliked, but anything unpredictable whatsoever. That’s why I’d planned the fuck out of mine and Will’s wedding, dividing the entire day up into colour-coded cells of ten-minute blocks of time on a biblical Google sheet. When I’d shared the document with Laurie, my chief – and only – bridesmaid, she’d called me immediately and ordered me to go outside and touch some grass. Weirdly, it had helped.

My dislike of the unknown had also been why I’d found myself secretly writing Will’s groom’s speech for the wedding, despite his insistence that he had it under control. I couldn’t bear the idea of him saying something I hadn’t prepared myself for, so I’d tried to predict what he might say by writing it all down and getting it out of my head. The day he’d found the speech in the ‘wedding’ folder on my laptop – even though I’d never intended to share it with him – had been the very worst day of my life.

‘You honestly think I’m going to say all this personal stuff about my dead parents, Flora? Do you even know me at all?’

‘Of course I do! But I’m nervous about the speeches, Will – surely you know me well enough to understand that?’

‘Can’t we just scrap the speeches, then? This was meant to be a low-key wedding, remember?’

‘We’ve been over this! My sister wants to make a speech. So it would be weird if you didn’t.’

Will had sighed, deeply. ‘Fine.’

‘So… have you written it?’

‘For fuck’s sake, Flora – why can’t you just trust me?’

‘I just need to know if—’

‘Just stop with all of this! My head is full to the brim with caterers and table plans and button-flower-things—’

‘Buttonholes.’

‘And now you’ve gone and written this super-intense speech. You have to stop trying to control everything. Can’t you see it’s all a bit… much?’

‘Oh, you’re really going to wheel out the “too much” insult two days before our wedding, are you?’

‘It’s not you that’s too much, Flor, it’s… all of it.’

I should have said nothing after that. Walked away, had something to eat, let the dust of our row settle. If I had, would I even be here – in this flat? In this city? Or would I be in London, with Will, about to enjoy our first Christmas together as a married couple?

But I hadn’t kept quiet, had I? I’d kept pushing him.

‘All of what, exactly?’

‘Like… us? Maybe?’

‘The fuck, Will? What exactly is it you’re trying to say?’

‘Like… maybe we shouldn’t…’