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“Neither am I. Tonight I feel about a hundred and sixty.” He shook his head. “Let’s go to bed. Everything will seem better after a good sleep.”

Would it?

She wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t as if anything would change. Asleep or awake, she would still be stuck in the middle.

She flicked off the bathroom light and crept into the bedroom. Matt was already under the covers, his back turned to her.

She reached for him and then pulled her hand back.

Everything he’d said was true, but without even meaning to, he’d added another layer of pressure. You’re a different person around your parents.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

It wasn’t fair on Matt that her stress levels rocketed when she spoke to them. But it wasn’t fair on her, either. And what was she supposed to do? Hold it all in and smile as if nothing was wrong? With other people, yes. She did it all the time. But with Matt? Shouldn’t she be able to express her true feelings with him? Wasn’t that what a relationship was about? Being honest?

She shifted in the bed to try to shift the discomfort that simmered inside her. It was true that she unloaded on him when she’d had a particularly difficult call with her parents. True that he bore the brunt of it. And she felt terrible about it.

Frustrated with herself and exhausted with it all, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow.

What she really wanted for Christmas was a break from trying to please everyone.

19

Izzy

Up one flight of stairs in the turret bedroom, the atmosphere was equally tense.

Izzy stared into the bathroom mirror, working on her game plan. How long could she stay in here before Jason hammered on the door to check she wasn’t dead? She’d taken a shower, washed her hair, rubbed lotion into every inch of herself and had run out of ways to kill time.

She’d planned to use the bathroom before him so that she could get into bed and pretend to be asleep once he emerged, but she’d paused to have a brief conversation with Mabel on her way up to bed. When she’d finally made it to the room, Jason was already in the bathroom. Which meant that once she left this room, avoiding conversation was going to be difficult.

Thank goodness they’d stayed over at a small country inn the night before. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had anything to wear in bed.

She took a breath and tugged open the door, hoping he was already asleep.

He wasn’t. He was sprawled on the window seat under a blanket, wide-awake and engrossed in a book. His hair was still damp from the shower and he glanced up with a smile as she emerged.

There was something about his smile that got her every time. Not the way his mouth curved and a slight crease appeared in his cheek, although that was undeniably sexy, but the way his eyes softened with warmth. Jason’s smile wasn’t superficial. He smiled with the whole of him, and that smile affected the whole of her.

She reminded herself that out there somewhere was a woman who was waiting for him to return so that they could celebrate a belated Christmas together.

All the same, her heart gave a little jump and her knees felt as if she’d drunk a bottle of wine in one mouthful.

He closed the book. “Did you know that this area is famous for its aged cheese?”

“No.” Did her voice sound normal? It didn’t feel normal to her.

“I’ve been reading about it. There are about a million books in this room so I didn’t know which one to pick. I could stay here for six months at least.”

He looked relaxed and comfortable. He was wearing a soft T-shirt that looked as if it had been washed a million times. She tried not to think about what he might be wearing underneath the blanket. She wasn’t interested. She had no right to be interested.

Ignoring the fact that her body was saying otherwise, she slid into bed and rearranged the pillows.

“She does own a lot of books. The library was incredible.” And on the nightstand next to her was a copy of The Careless Witch and the Thanksgiving Turkey, which she’d brought upstairs with her. Just seeing the familiar cover was a comfort.

Jason tucked the book back onto the shelf. “I like your Santa pyjamas. Very festive.”

She embraced that seemingly safe topic of conversation. “Obviously, I believe in Santa and it’s a good idea to let him know that, because if you don’t believe in him then he won’t leave a gift.”