Christmas at Tiffany's (67 page)

It was an extraordinary statement to make out loud.

He was silent for a long time. His chest heaved with adrenalin, his eyes bored questioningly into hers. ‘And what makes you think that I love you?’ he asked more quietly.

‘I found out what Maiden’s Blush stands for,’ she said, watching as he turned away from her.

He raked his hand through his hair. ‘Well, that was before.’

It was Cassie’s turn to pause. Had she misunderstood? ‘Before what?’

‘What do you think?’ he demanded, wheeling back and staring her down again. ‘Before you decided to go back to that soft-bellied, manipulative, cheating husband of yours.’

‘Can you blame me? Ever since you jumped on me, you haven’t been able to even look at me! You couldn’t get out of there fast enough! I thought you were running back to your fiancée, which was bad enough! But
then
I learnt you called off the engagement months ago. So why have you been lying to me about her? What is she? Your cover story for making a quick exit?’

‘You don’t know . . . you don’t know the first bloody thing about it!’ he countered in exasperation, pacing backwards and forwards.

‘So tell me then!’ Cassie demanded. ‘Tell me what’s going on with you. Because I can’t keep up!’

‘You really wanna know?’

‘Yes!’

‘Fine! I have been in love with you my whole life, okay? All of it! Even while you were married for ten years to
him
and I thought you were completely lost to me. I was convinced I’d never find any kind of happiness after y –’ His voice broke and he swallowed hard, hands on his hips, as he stared down at the ground. ‘But I met Lacey and I thought maybe . . .’

He looked back up at her. ‘And then you came back into my life again.’ He gave a small, unamused laugh. ‘I couldn’t believe it. I’d just got engaged and you were just getting divorced! It felt like some kind of fucking cosmic joke.’

Cassie watched him, silvered in the moonlight, and she felt herself begin to bruise and ache at the heartbreak he had hidden so well.

‘I tried to keep my life with Lacey on track, but I knew pretty much straightaway it was never going to work out between us. Not when there was a chance that you . . .’ He looked away again.

‘So why didn’t you just tell me you’d called off the engagement?’

‘Because for as long as you thought I was with her, I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen between us. I knew
I
wouldn’t be able to hold back from telling you how I felt, and I couldn’t do that. Not then. It was the last thing you needed to hear. You couldn’t go straight from a ten-year marriage into “happy ever after” with me.’ He inhaled deeply, and she could sense the resentment building in him again. ‘So I kept quiet. I kept away. I watched while you got it on with Luke sodding Laidlaw. And then the second I
finally
showed you how I felt – when I couldn’t hold back any longer and I thought maybe you could handle it – you went running back to Gil. One hint that he wanted you back, and you were right there, on his doorstep.’

‘But I didn’t go to Scotland to get back with Gil,’ Cassie gasped.

‘Oh no? So what’s he doing here, then, hands all over you like you’re newly-weds?’

Cassie rubbed her face in her hands. How could she explain it to him?

‘After you kissed me, I knew there was no going back to him. I went to Scotland to make him sign the divorce papers, but he wasn’t even there. I came back, hoping you would finish what you started, but you wouldn’t even look at me, and when he turned up, asking for a second chance . . . I didn’t think you cared.’

They stared at each other, eyes burning, hearts racing.

‘So . . . what are you saying?’ His hands were jammed in his pockets, all his usual lackadaisical ease gone.

Cassie walked towards him, cupping his face with her hands. ‘I’m saying that I love you,’ she whispered, gazing into his blue eyes, which were as bright and clear as the Arctic waters he explored. ‘I have done ever since I
. . . mugged
you in Central Park.’

He gave a sudden laugh, and she laughed too, but it quickly faded as he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. She felt the weight of his words through his lips as ten years of yearning was released and he wound his hands in her hair, grazed his mouth on her neck and raked his fingers up her body with an exquisite lightness that made her feel her skin must be sparkling beneath his touch.

His skin felt cold and damp through her dress, and she unbuttoned his sodden shirt, smoothing it off him as she felt him pull the ribbon-tie on her dress. It fell open, sliding off her shoulders with silky submission so that she too stood almost bare before him, in just primrose lace – the two of them marble-white in the moonbeams, like Rodin’s lovers.

A sudden glint caught Henry’s eye, and he reached down, pulling the Tiffany key from her bra. He raised a speculative eyebrow, and Cassie took it from him. She stared at it for a moment – the symbol of his secret seduction through three different cities – then, kissing it lightly, she threw it as far as she could over the glassy water, and the silver key flew through the night sky, like a tiny Cupid’s arrow.

New York, six months later

‘You said you’d done all your shopping,’ Archie moaned as Cassie stopped outside the Tiffany’s giant door. ‘I need to get home and check I’ve still got ten toes. I think Suzy might have sliced some of them off with her skates just now.’

Suzy walloped him in the stomach. ‘I am the wind beneath your wings, and don’t you forget it.’

‘We should get back, Cass, if I’m going to get that turkey stuffed before midnight,’ Kelly chimed in reluctantly.

‘I promise I’ll just be a minute. I know exactly what I want to get,’ Cassie said, nipping into the store before anyone could protest further. Henry, Arch, Brett and Guillaume groaned and sloped in after the girls, accepting the complimentary champagne with deep suspicion, and blinking warily in the glare that comes from being confined in a small space with millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds.

‘It’s my fault. I’ve told her we should spend every Christmas at Tiffany’s,’ Henry said, leading them towards the towering Christmas tree at the back. ‘Start our own traditions and all that.’

They watched as their girls leant over a small tray of brightly coloured enamel trinkets, champagne glasses in hand, Cassie picking out items with nimble precision.

‘Look what I’ve got,’ Anouk purred to Guillaume a few minutes later, holding up a teeny pink shoe charm on a necklace chain. Kelly came over bearing a tiny shiny red apple charm on hers, and Suzy seconds later with a yellow cupcake charm.

‘What are they all for?’ Archie asked quizzically.

‘It’s my way of saying thank you to my best friends for getting me through last year,’ Cassie said, smiling round at them all. ‘Energy in the Big Apple; elegance in Paris, and cupcakes in London. It was a big year for me.’

‘Yeah, and what did you do with it – huh?’ Suzy drawled. ‘You were the poster girl for a fashion campaign, Luke’s muse in an exhibition, the muse in
Vogue
’s special issue, and Claude named his landmark restaurant after you in Paris. I mean, for God’s sake, Cass, why didn’t you
do
something with your life?’

Everyone laughed.

‘Honestly, I love this, Cass. I’ll treasure it for ever, and I’m not giving it back,’ Kelly grinned, clutching her necklace more tightly. ‘But I think we all know who really got you through last year,’ she said, holding up her champagne glass towards Henry.

‘To Henry!’ everyone cheered, and Cassie reached up to him to show her gratitude – again.

‘Tch, you’re always falling on to each other’s lips!’ Suzy groaned as they kissed for slightly longer than was strictly necessary.

‘Personally, I think he was a bit long-winded about the whole thing. Lists, flowers . . .’ Archie muttered. ‘I just got Suzy drunk.’

‘Aren’t you having a necklace?’ Kelly asked. ‘I think we should all have a memento of that year.’

‘Ah, but I already have one,’ Cassie smiled, fingering the bare chain hanging around her neck. ‘It’s just hanging from a bridge in Paris.’

‘I’m telling you, I am going to take Archie’s toenail clippers to it if you don’t release that thing,’ Suzy warned.

‘We don’t have the key,’ Cassie said, her eyes twinkling at the memory of her and Henry’s first night together, down by the lake. ‘Besides, Nooks and Guillaume check it for us, don’t you?’

‘Every Sunday morning,’ Guillaume nodded. ‘It’s fixed solid.’

‘I’ll never forget that moment,’ Cassie smiled, looking back up at Henry. ‘In fact, I was standing just there,’ she said, taking a step closer to the tree and pointing towards the mound of blue boxes clustered around the base. ‘Honestly, you should have seen my face when I saw my name . . .’

She fell silent.

‘What’s wrong?’ Anouk asked after a moment.

Cassie was staring at the gift boxes, seemingly lost in the memory. But then she bent down and picked one up. It was tiny, and heavy, and written upon a dangling gift tag was her name.

She stared back at Henry in amazement. ‘
Again?
’

‘Better.’

The question was in his eyes.

The answer was in her hands.

‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘Oh yes.’

Christmas at Tiffany’s

Karen Swan lives in Sussex with her husband and three children. When the children let her, she writes her books in the treehouse overlooking the South Downs.

Visit Karen’s website at
www.karenswan.com

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Praise for Karen Swan

‘A totally original, witty, sexy and engrossing read’   
Heat

‘This is a seriously saucy novel!’   
OK!

‘Romantic and sexy – a real treat’   Tasmina Perry

‘The ultimate holiday read’   
Take it Easy

‘An addictive read’   
Woman

‘With its sizzling mix of sex, scandal and lies, this debut novel is fab’   
Closer

‘Must-have read’   
Look

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My biggest thanks must go to my two boys, Ollie and William, whom I took to Paris to show the Eiffel Tower and Mona Lisa, but who ended up showing me the Paris that is featured in this book. Much of what is included in the Paris section we enjoyed ourselves – Laduree macaroons, gargoyle spotting, even the passing mention of the polar bear is true! But most particularly, it was with them that I discovered the Pont des Arts and crucially, its love padlocks. This would have been a very different book without their sharp eyes and tired feet. Thank you my darlings.

Also, Anders, my own bear of a man who keeps me safe, happy – and to my word count. This book only made it in time for Christmas because of you.

Thanks are always due, and never said enough, to my beloved parents who are my biggest supporters – in every way. You might even be allowed to read this book!

A massive thank you to Jenny Geras who instantly knew how to shape this book – from synopsis to first draft (eek, the original ending!), from the title to graphics, your enthusiasm and ambition for it has been infectious and galvanizing.

Also, Thalia (what would I do without you?), Ali, Eli and Juliet Van Oss (thank you for your fabulous note!), Katie and the rest of the Pan Macmillan team who have worked so hard in positioning, branding and finessing this book. I am genuinely so proud of it and deeply grateful to you all.

Amanda Preston, thank you so much for always being so calm when I am not, and forever knowing the right thing to say. You are the only person I have ever met who can rival my husband for pulling statistics and percentages out of thin air. You should be in a pub quiz team together!

First published 2011 by Pan Books

This electronic edition published 2011 by Pan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
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Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com