Snowed In For Christmas

‘Damn,’ he said softly.

It was a fine time to discover that he still wanted her, that he still loved her, that he should have done more to stop her leaving. But his head had been in the wrong place then, and hers was now.

You should have told her.

He should. But he hadn’t, and now wasn’t the time.

It was too late. She’d moved on, and so had he.

Hadn’t he?

He poured himself another glass of wine and left the kitchen, retreating into his study and the thing that kept him sane. Work. Always work. The one constant in his life.

He turned his phone on, and it beeped at him furiously as the emails and messages came pouring in. Even on Christmas Day. He was obviously not the only workaholic, he thought drily, and then he opened them.

Greetings. Christmas greetings from family, friends, work colleagues.

And he’d meant to contact all of them, and so far had only rung his immediate family.

He’d do it now. He had nothing better to do, either, and it beat lying in bed next to Georgie’s room and listening to the sounds of her getting ready for bed. Although even in his study he could hear her, because she was immediately overhead.

He listened to the sound of water running, the creak of the boards as she crossed the room to the bed. A different creak as she climbed into it and lay down.

He tried to tune it out, but it was impossible, so he put the radio on quietly. Carols from King’s College, Cambridge, flooded the room and drowned out the sound of her movements.

Pity they couldn’t drown out his thoughts...

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