The Happy Endings Book Club (10 page)

“Not physically. But your spirit.” Keith looked at her, eyes filled with grief as well as tears. “You were a little girl. And we took something from you.”

There was a ringing in her ears. “I don’t want to do this.”

“You’ve got no choice,” Kayoko snapped. “You have to give us a chance.”

Michi looked down at her shoes. And with that she started to cry. And cry. She sat down on the sofa with one parent either side of her while she sobbed and sobbed. And they held her. It took a long time, but eventually she stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried in front of her parents. Or the last time they’d just sat there and comforted her, and not analyzed her.

And certainly she couldn’t ever remember them taking responsibility for their actions or her pain.

“Spend time with us, Michi. Let’s get to know each other again. You might see us differently.”

Michi saw the shattered look in their eyes. She was stuck. There was no turning back, but to move forward would take a giant leap.

“Spend New Year with us.” Kayoko was stroking her daughter’s arm. “We canceled our party.”

“I bet there’s a few swingers who are sad about that,” Michi said.

Kayoko surprised Michi by losing her temper. “Your father and I messed up, Michiko, and we are so very very sorry. We were blind to what happened to you. But you’re just as blind to us now.”

Michi reeled back. “That’s not true.”

“No? So you know that your father and I are retiring?”

Michi didn’t know that.

“And you know your father had his prostate out. Cancer!”

Michi felt like she’d been kicked in the guts.

Keith put his arm out and comforted his wife. “Kay, honey, we weren’t going to say anything.” Then he turned to Michi. “It’s all good. My tests have been okay.”

Kayoko hadn’t finished. “Did you know that I love your father? Love him? Totally?”

Michi shook her head.

“I’m so sorry that the way we express that affected you, Michiko.” Kayoko’s tone softened. “Let us make this up to you. If you knew us better …”

Michi stared down at her bare feet. “I’ll come tonight.”

Keith looked ecstatic. “It’ll just be us, Greg and a chemist friend of his, and you and Jake.”

“Jake’s a nice man. I love him,” Kayoko said.

Michi rolled her eyes. Old habits die hard.

“And your mother and I have been talking. We’re going to come to London, and spend some time with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Michi said as she thought of other places she could move to.

Her parents were looking at her like she was about to evaporate. She hadn’t spent time with them, and was leaving tomorrow. “Let’s just start with the New Year together, okay?”

“It’s a good sign,” Kayoko said, obviously thrilled.

Keith and Kayoko stood to leave. They hugged her, numerous times, and she promised to be over at their place by six. She was tempted to leave with them, but she needed to think about what had just happened.

And she wanted to confront Jake.

She didn’t have to wait long. He entered not long after her parents left, which made her think he’d simply been waiting outside. He looked prepared for battle.

She pounced immediately. “How the hell could you betray me?”

“Your parents have been good to me. They deserve the opportunity to make amends before you take off again.”

“Says who? You? What gives you the right to meddle in this?”

“What gives anyone the right to meddle in anything? Sometimes you just have to do it.”

She sneered at him. “Why the fuck are you such a fan anyway?”

“Oh grow up, Michi. I’ve told you how I feel about them. But it’s more than that. I owe them.”

This surprised her. “In what way?”

Jake’s jaw tensed. “The girlfriend I followed to Australia …”

“Camping Phoebe?”

Jake smiled slightly. “Yeah. Well, her dad and I were …” Jake visibly pulled himself together. “We were real close. He said I was the son he never had. I certainly loved him. Anyway, Phoebe could be a bit … headstrong. It’s why I loved her. But one night she had a massive barney with her father. A dreadful fight. He called me, asking me to intervene, so I did. I asked her to talk to her father, to clear the air. She didn’t want to. So I didn’t push it. With some women you choose your battles.”

Michi didn’t say anything, even though she felt that was a dig at her.

“So I let it go,” Jake continued. “I took the easy way out. I figured it would blow over in a couple of days. But the next night, we got a call. A heart attack. He died before the ambulance arrived.”

“That’s awful,” Michi said.

“It was. Phoebe and I couldn’t survive that one. She was devastated that her final words to her father were in anger. And I’ll always regret not pushing for them to resolve their differences. He loved his daughter. It didn’t matter what the argument was about.” Jake ran his fingers through his hair. “The day after the funeral, Greg took me over to your parents’ place for dinner. I was in a very dark place. They recognized that and were supportive, that night and for a long time afterward.”

Michi got it. She understood. She was still angry, but she now knew why he’d called them. “You know where your loyalty lies.”

“You still don’t get it do you, you ditzy cow?”

“I get it, life’s too short. You learned that the hard way.”

“My loyalty is to you. Your dad’s been battling cancer, Michi. You need to sort this out or you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Michi hadn’t even begun to absorb the news about her father’s illness.

Jake took one step toward her. “And I never want to regret failing another woman I love.”

“Love?” Now Michi was really confused.

“Michi, I know you’re leaving. I know you’re not interested in me. But I fell head over heels for you the moment I saw you on Christmas Day in that big fucking hat.”

“You didn’t like my hat?”

“That’s what you take out of that sentence?”

“You’re in love with me?” Michi asked quietly.

“Yep.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell me about it.”

One more step toward her and then he stopped again. She knew he was never going to cross that line with her. So she crossed it for him. Slowly. She stepped up to him. He was stunned for just a moment, but then he scooped her up and kissed her.

“Michi, I want you, but not now. Not after that today.”

She nodded, her eyes glazed with desire. It would happen.

But for now, she was happy to hold him. To be held. Another memory of Sydney she’d cling to on the flight back to London.

*

The
Sakura
was a beautiful boat. Classy, despite the debauchery it had seen, it remained slightly above it all. Michi sat back on deck, happier than she’d felt in a long time. The harbor was busy around them, with hundreds of boats all vying for the prime spots to watch the fireworks. The
Sakura
had a wonderful view of the bridge and the Opera House.

Greg was entertaining everyone, as usual. He was happy, and madly in love. His new boyfriend Hong, the chemist, was delightful, and very laid-back. He didn’t blink an eye at Greg’s outrageous behavior, even when he kept telling everyone that Hong was well-hong.

Keith and Kayoko were as touchy-feely and as loving as always, and Michi realized it was not and never had been an act. They adored each other. She’d never understand how they could have sex with other people. In fact, that was an even bigger question for her than how they could do what they did to their kids. How did they allow others into that thing that they shared? It was impossible for her to understand. She couldn’t bear the thought of Jake being with anyone else. And they hadn’t even done the deed yet. But they would, of that she was sure.

Michi looked across the deck at him, and he winked back. She knew she had to get on that plane tomorrow. She had work. She had a life in London.

But he was here.

“Quick, everyone, the countdown.” Kayoko clapped her hands excitedly.

Boats all over the harbor had their radios blaring. The countdown began. Ten, nine, eight …

They all moved to the bow of the boat.

Three, two, one. Bang!

Happy New Year!

Thousands of lights exploded above them. Jake pulled Michi into his arms and kissed her. Deep, hot and totally leg-melting.

It was a new year now and what she did with it was up to her. Her brother put his arms around her and Jake, and then her parents did too. They huddled together as a group, heads tilted upward toward the Harbour Bridge, which was illuminated with fireworks. It looked beautiful. She could see it now.

And there was no place she’d rather be.

Clementine handed the woman the Christmas book bag. “I’m sure your nephew will love it. Boys that age love the Bella & Burton’s Misadventures series. We sell a lot of them.”

“Thanks. You saved my arse. I never know what to get him.” The woman gave her a huge smile and headed for the door. Just as she walked out, Paige rushed in, with Sadie hot on her heels.

“Clem, I’ve got to go away for the night, so Sadie is going to help out.”

Sadie was obviously thrilled to be asked. “You can show me the ropes, sweetie.”

“I will.” Clementine loved the idea of having Sadie around. They knew each other from the book club, but Clementine had always been a little in awe of her. Sadie was sexy and energetic, always good for a cracking one-liner and a laugh. But she also seemed a little lonely. Probably because she was a single mum, thought Clementine. It meant when she had the opportunity to talk to other adults, she grabbed it with both hands.

Clementine turned back to Paige.

“Anything wrong?” She noticed Paige had an overnight bag.

“Just some family stuff that’s come up.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me tomorrow? Christmas Eve is always busy?”

Paige reached out and patted Clementine’s arm. “No, honey, I’ll be back early.”

Sadie piped in. “And I’m around.”

“You have to go to Spain, Clem,” Paige said.

Clementine gave the others a guilty look. “I’ve changed my plans.”

“You’re not going to
New York
?” Paige asked quietly.

Clementine simply nodded, but looked thrilled all the same.

“Clem!”

Sadie looked impressed. “You go, girl.”

Paige wasn’t so impressed. “Don’t encourage her, Sadie.”

Clementine was unapologetic. “It was a last-minute decision but feels right.”

Paige was visibly worried. “I don’t want to be a spoilsport but don’t you think going to New York to spend Christmas with someone you’ve never even met is a little …”

“Romantic?”

“I was going to say crazy.”

Clementine waved away Paige’s concern like an annoying fly. “Sam and I have poured our hearts out to each other for months now. What we have is real.”

Sadie sighed, as only the jaded can, but she kept her mouth shut.

“What does Debra think?” Paige asked.

“She thinks I’m crazy too. We had a huge argument over it. She only backed down when I agreed to stay at a hotel and not at Sam’s.”

“She looks out for you.”

“She’s worse than my mother.”

“At least someone is thinking straight,” Paige said. “I know your generation do things differently, but still …”

“I’m not a child, Paige.”

“Darling, you’re twenty-two, you’re young, and this is so impulsive. Anything could happen. What if—”

“What if Sam is an axe murderer?” Clementine hooted with laughter. “That’s what Debra said.”

“Or a Republican,” sniffed Sadie.

“Well, what if?” Paige said.

Clementine looked extremely young for a moment. “You know what I said to her?”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘And what if Sam is the love of my life?’”

*

She’d made a mistake. Eva knew that now. She stared over the rim of the mug she was clutching and willed herself to stay calm.

Don’t panic.

What had she been thinking, coming here alone? Around her, the Rathausplatz was crowded. The market laneways were packed and groups of people huddled together, laughing, drinking, and celebrating around the gluhwein stall. It was Christmas Eve in Vienna, and she did not belong here. Now if only her legs would move, then she could leave.

Instead she took a sip of her gluhwein.

And another. And prayed that the mulled wine would somehow sedate her. She tried to concentrate on what was happening externally, rather than internally. She could taste the cloves. An icy breeze nipped at the tip of her nose. With it came the strong smell of garlic from the langos stand. Her eyes darted around, taking in the scene. She was cold to her core, despite the hot mulled wine. Anxiety’s freezing fingers were clutching at her. It was a fifteen-minute walk back to her hotel. Longer without legs that worked. She could hardly crawl. She felt foolish enough already without having to crawl down the Kärntner Strasse on Christmas Eve.

Take a deep breath. Four times.

Just like Paige had advised her to do, when she’d admitted she’d been feeling anxious lately.

What would Paige say now?
Focus on the scene around you, and not on yourself.

Eva looked around her. Where was she?

She was at a gluhwein stand at the annual Magic of Advent in Vienna. The city hall loomed down over the scene like a watchful parent while the Rathausplatz came to life in its annual spellbinding Christmas celebration.

Look around. Don’t focus on what you’re feeling. What can you see?

The market was a wonderland. It reminded Eva of every picture-perfect Christmas card she’d ever received. She’d stopped by stalls filled with baskets of Christmas decorations. Each and every one seemed finely spun from some magical thread.

Stall after stall of sweets and pastries and pretzels and teas and soaps. She’d stuffed herself silly with the
gebrannte Mandeln
(toasted almonds) and
Maroni
(sweet chestnuts). Nearby was the truffle stall, where she’d paused earlier for what seemed like an eternity as she asked for one
Stück
of each: the
Milch Nougat
Trüffel
,
Tiramisu
Trüffel
,
Cappuccino
Trüffel
and the
Eierlikör
Trüffel
.

Excellent. Now what else?

Electric angels lined the sidewalks. The trees were lit up with candy canes and ornaments and waterfalls of light. There were some rides for children: a small train, a carousel and pony rides. There was a puppet show. A soft dusting of snow coated everything, enough to add to the overall effect but not yet turn to mud. And the whole scene was draped in lights.

Geoff would say it looked like a massive glow-worm had thrown up. She smiled at the thought. He was the first to admit, he was as romantic as a dose of strep throat.

Of course, that was the reason she was here.

Deep breath. What else?

In the middle of this spellbinding scene was the most beautiful Christmas tree Eva had ever laid eyes on. It was tall and alight with what looked like a swarm of fireflies. She felt like she was standing inside a snow globe she’d once owned as a child. She’d been obsessed with that snow globe. She’d shake it and stare into it, willing herself to suddenly be a part of that scene. And now she was.

But wishing to be a part of some enchanted scene when you’re six was way better than being a part of it all at sixty. The market was everything she’d expected, and more. But at this moment, it was the last place on earth she wanted to be.

“You’d hate it,” Geoff had said. “Christ, I can’t think of anywhere I’d hate more.”

She’d slipped her arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to share a gluhwein with me in the snow?”

“You want gluhwein, I’ll make you some here, at home. Think of it as gluhwein without the pneumonia.”

“I don’t want gluhwein at home. I want it in Vienna.” She’d dreamed of visiting the Vienna Christmas markets for years. But Geoff had never been interested.

“You know I can’t stand all that gross commercialism, Eva.”

“But it’s not like that. The first Christmas market was held in Vienna in 1296,” she said, appealing to the historian in him. “It’s a wonderful annual event steeped in tradition that goes back to the middle ages.”

“Well, I’m more interested in my middle ages, and I hate the fucking cold.”

“Darling, there’s this tree, the Little Heart Tree, where lovers meet—”

“And freeze to death.”

What was the point!

“You’re so romantic.”

And then he’d grab her, and pull her close, and his voice would growl. “I’d rather romance you somewhere hot.”

“You mean you’d rather fuck me somewhere hot. Romance and fucking are different.”

“Fucking is always hot with you.”

And she’d catch a whiff of his scent, which never failed to make her dizzy. She’d try to talk him round, but he knew the effect he had on her. His hand would slip under her shirt, or slowly unbutton her pants. And all the while he’d challenge her, with his eyes, his slight smirk.

“You want flowers, or you want sex?” He knew the answer.

And each time he peeled off her clothes she knew she’d live a life without romance if she had to choose. In fact, she had. Because Geoff wouldn’t give her both. And sex with Geoff was addictive and necessary. It was the glue that bound them, the one thing they always got right.

The last time she’d broached Christmas in Vienna he’d fucked her over the sofa, and then afterward, as she lay naked across it, trying to catch her breath, he walked over to his desk and sat down at the computer. He was naked, gloriously so. He was built like a gladiator. And as he booked their Christmas in Spain, he made sure he had the last word.

“This bloody dream of yours, better off keeping it as a dream. The reality of Christmas in Vienna will destroy it for you.”

The bastard was right. Not because this wasn’t beautiful, but because he wasn’t with her. He never came, had never wanted to come with her, and coming alone was a huge mistake. It was a glaring reminder of every time he’d failed her, or refused her, or bulldozed over her to get his own way. Being here alone was a reminder of how she’d spent twenty years desperately wanting him to do something romantic for her, anything, anything. A bunch of flowers. A bloody poem. A loving dedication in one of his books. But she’d got nothing. If she dared mention it, he’d dig his heels in and challenge her to leave if she didn’t like it. But she never left. Because she loved him. Totally and utterly.

So most of all … being in Vienna alone now was a reminder that he was dead.

Deep breath. Focus on something light. Something unrelated.

Eva stared at the children boarding the train. She tried to concentrate on them, what they were wearing, and their laughter. But she couldn’t get her mind off Geoff.

Geoff had been dead a year. One year and ten days to be exact. While not officially her first Christmas without him, it was certainly the first she could remember. Last year didn’t count. It was a blur. She’d been in a very dark place. She could barely remember his funeral, or the weeks afterward, where she couldn’t get out of bed. She saw in the New Year clutching his shirt, wild with desire for a dead man, so grateful she’d been behind on the washing when he died. She had a bunch of his shirts that still smelled like him, but was petrified that the scent was fading.

There were moments during those first two months where she didn’t think she’d survive. There were a few truly overwhelming moments when she prayed she wouldn’t. But ultimately, Eva was not the type of woman to curl up and die alongside her man. One morning she got up and actually ate breakfast. She showered and then checked her emails. She sat alone, coffee in hand, by her favorite window where the morning sun flooded in. And she knew she’d be okay. She wanted to be okay. She was determined to rebuild her life.

It hadn’t been easy. Thankfully she had her work. Editors like her were able to pick and choose. She escaped into the novels she edited. She escaped into the very world Geoff had always mocked—romance. Admittedly he didn’t ridicule her work, or the romance writers they knew. Being a writer himself he was fully aware of how good writers bled for their art, irrespective of genre. For him, the problem was never about romance books, but that Eva expected that romance to translate into real life.

“That’s like me suddenly becoming Henry VIII because I’ve just finished my book about him.”

“Geoff, you are like him,” Eva sniffed.

Working from home was both a blessing and a curse. Geoff was in every room, every piece of furniture. God knows he’d made the final decisions when they were renovating, so even if she preferred the beige hues, they ended up with bold colors. She liked the caramel-colored couch, but ended up with deep red. Now that he was gone, Eva took comfort in being surrounded by the remnants of his powerful personality.

Until she glimpsed his desk. And then she could feel herself slipping away, her skin and flesh and every atom of her being sliding off her into a pool on the floor. Being married to a writer meant he was at home and at his desk a lot. Unlike other women she knew, she couldn’t kid herself that her husband was at the office late or on a business trip. His empty chair was a reminder. His absence was palpable and constant.

Eva had met Geoff later in life. They’d both been married, and divorced, with lots of baggage. She was on a romance panel at a historical writers’ conference in Florida, and Geoff was the keynote speaker. She’d read a few of his novels, sprawling novels set in Tudor and Elizabethan England that were popular with both the literati and airport readers. She sat down the front of his session and watched him speak, mesmerized. He was one helluva man. Tall, dark hair, rugged, with muscular arms and an endless chest. And he knew how to work a crowd. He was articulate and erudite, but also had the audience in stitches. At one point, his eyes rested on her and her whole body filled with fire. Afterward, to her surprise, he came over to her and introduced himself.

“I find it unfair that you know my name and I don’t yet know yours.”

“I’m Eva.” She shook his hand and a jolt of pure energy shot straight through her. She covered her surprise with nervous chat. “I enjoyed your talk. I absolutely agree with—”

Geoff cut her off, as was to become his habit in their relationship. “Fuck my talk. I’d rather have a drink with you.”

Eva agreed to it without hesitation, another pattern in their relationship. Not that she was weak, then or ever. Quite the opposite. As she knew, from that very first night, only the strongest of women would take on a man like Geoff. Right from the start he was challenging, but Eva found it refreshing to be challenged. Every conversation was to the death. He kept her on her toes—and goddammit, she hadn’t been off her heels in years till she met him.

He also kept her in bed. For three full days. By the final night of the conference, Eva was wondering how she’d live without him.

She ran her hand over his chest. It was everything a chest should be on a man. “I’m sure everyone at the conference is talking about us.”

“Let them. It’ll give them something to write about.” Geoff moved a lock of hair from her face. “Want to stay here with me for Christmas?”

“In Florida?”

“In bed.”

“But that’s two weeks away?”

“So? You said your kids are with your ex this year. So are mine. And Christ knows I hate English weather at this time of year. Stay with me here.” Geoff slipped his hand across her belly and down between her legs. “You’re wet. I take that as a yes.” He moved down and spread her legs, and slid his tongue inside her. Conversation over. But from that moment on, Christmas was about warm weather and lots of sex.

She never complained. Who would? Right when she’d thought it was all over for her, at thirty-nine, with a messy divorce and kids in tow … this ravishing man charged into her life and took over. He couldn’t get enough of her. He didn’t tell her she was beautiful or desirable, he showed her. He didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. But he was passionate. From the moment he’d first kissed her on a Miami boardwalk, she was his. His smell, his build, the noises he made while he was inside her. There was no other man as male as Geoff. His very presence excited her. And ultimately subsumed her. And that never changed in twenty years. Not until the day she found him dead on the floor from a heart attack. His heart. The one organ he gave on his terms.

‘Entschuldigen Sie, bitte, ist der Tisch frei?’

Eva plummeted back to the present. A young man was standing in front of her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak German.”

“I was just asking if this table is free. Are you waiting on friends?”

“No, please go ahead.” She gestured at the vacant area around her table, and the young man and his friend moved in and started talking.

She watched them for a moment and then turned her attention elsewhere. Perhaps she should’ve brought someone to Vienna with her. But who?

Eva was in touch with all the kids—her own and Geoff’s—and pretended for their sakes that she was managing okay. She lied, and said she was getting out and seeing people. But she wasn’t. Their circle of friends was very much a couples affair. And she still wasn’t up to socializing without Geoff. Not with their old friends.

She had Paige now, of course. Their friendship was new but already ran deep. In fact, in many ways it had saved her.

After the initial grief had abated and she was able to work again, Eva spent her days editing. Then, in the afternoon, she’d go for a walk, often stopping by her local bookstore. She’d always supported her local bookstore, but after Geoff’s death she found herself haunting the aisles of the cozy little shop more than ever before. She went in to look at Geoff’s books, despite having shelves of them at home. She’d pick up his books, stare at his photo on the jacket, and flick through to the dedication:
To my sidekick, Eva.