Page 125

“He ho?” I manage through the pain in my tongue.

“Why do you sound like a Teletubby?”

“I burred my kug on a cub of coffee.” I push my way outside, the ice cold air stinging my face. I take in a long breath, hoping it will cool my tongue.

“Ouch,” she commiserates. “Are you okay?”

“I fig I’m gying.” I look at the cup of doom. I don’t even know why I’m still carrying it.

She clucks her tongue. And I swear she’s showing off now. “So you made it back okay? I sent you a message. I know you saw it. I got the read receipt.”

“I was about to call you,” I lie, finally able to pronounce words properly.

“Well I’m glad I’m on your list of priorities. Right below coffee and third degree burn treatments.” She sounds huffy.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m busy anyway. I just need to know if he’s called.”

“Who?”

“Theo, you idiot.”

I let out a breath. “He left some voicemails.”

“And? What did they say?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t listen to them.”

“What? Why not? Georgia, hang up and listen to them then call me back right away. Actually, scrap that, keep me on hold.”

My throat tightens. “I don’t want to.” My eyes feel watery. And it has nothing to do with the icy breeze.

Her voice softens. “Oh honey.”

“Please don’t be nice to me,” I whisper. “I’m in the middle of the street. I can’t cry, especially not on Christmas Eve.”

She sniffs and sobs at the same time. “Now you’re making me cry.”

“Hey G,” Derrick says, like he’s taken the phone from Jennifer. “You okay?”

“I’m trying.” I pause. “By the way, I haven’t forgotten that you told Patrick where I was,” I tease, because Derrick doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, but he does have an inability to say no to people.

“Christ, I’m so sorry about that,” Derrick tells me, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Jennifer’s already threatened to chop my balls off if I ever speak to him again. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, but that’s not what we need to concentrate on right now.” He sighs. “Listen, that British idiot doesn’t know what he’s missing. And you can’t spend Christmas alone, there’s no way we’re going to let that happen.”

I look around the street at all the people spilling out of shops and rushing across the road. “I’m not exactly alone in Manhattan. And what should I do? Get on another airplane and come to Chicago?”

“Yes. You should have flown straight here. Fuck it, I’ll call this guy and tell him to hold the plane you came in on if I have to.”

“That poor crew deserves a break,” I tell him. “And anyway I have an article to write.”

“If you don’t come to us, we’ll come to you.”

“Jennifer has a broken ankle,” I point out. “And anyway, I’m fine. Honestly.”

There’s some whispering. Derrick clears his throat.

“Jen says you need to listen to those voicemails.”