Page 101 of Break the Ice

The softness in her face turns into tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘What if I said I still loved you? That I think I’ve made a mistake letting you go. That I don’t think Nav is my soulmate?’

I stare at her, feeling the emotion in me run to the tips of my fingers. ‘No,’ I mutter quietly. ‘I’d say you don’t get to do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘You benched me,’ I say, laughing as I allude back to Phoebe’s reference as we were walking around that London park.

‘I did what?’ she asks.

‘You want to keep me in your reserves, just in case.’ And I am worth more than that.

‘Joshy, you are my friend.’

I laugh. ‘Bullshit. Because I was your friend. I loved you so fucking much and I would never hurt you in the same way you hurt me, never,’ I tell her resolutely, finding it in me now to look her in the eye. ‘Being here, seeing your parents again, seeing you, I am realising I have moved on, I am very done with you.’ But I also realise it’s because of one person who has shown me what love should look like, how caring for someone is reciprocal, how it should ignite the deepest of laughs and flood your world with light. ‘Have a good evening, a good life, a good everything, Avery, but don’t message me again, OK. And shame on you for using s’mores on Christmas Eve to try to suck me in. Thief. Get your own fucking traditions,’ I say, smiling, shaking my head.

And with that I walk away. I think I’m actually going to leave this party. No, I definitely am. There’s just one person I need to find first.

FORTY-SEVEN

PHOEBE

Joshua, Joshua, Joshua. Where the fuck are you? He said he was headed for a wee and then to the bar to get me some gin, but, scanning the faces at the bar, I can’t see him. I have things to say, to tell you. Big things. For one, your mum has gone to find your dad and she is angry. She says she’s not going to throw hands here, at this party, but recently Bob donated this huge prize from Warner Music to one of Inga’s trust charity auctions and that’s going to disappear to another charity. They’re also going home or maybe to the Plaza to see in the New Year there. Maddie is on the rampage though. She’s heard. She’s staying. She is intent on damage and a scene. Naveen is a dick. I love you. But that’s too much. That’s quite intense. I need to go light. Whaddya think, Joshua? Wanna go back to London and try being a thing? I fear he would laugh at me. Maybe he’s escaped to the toilets and is going to sit the party out there. I think that’s a bit grim. He should have at least taken some refreshments in there. Maybe I should check them.

‘Hi,’ I ask a server who’s standing nearby. ‘What are these?’

‘Nduja pastries, ma’am.’

‘You mean, sausage rolls?’ She looks at me quizzically but I wrap some in a napkin and put them in my clutch, winking at her as I leave the ballroom and head down one of the beautiful marble-floored hallways looking for the loos. This floor is so shiny and I like how my heels make a satisfying tapping noise on it.

When I reach the loos, I notice a scene at the doors to the Ladies.

‘Everyone is supposed to be in either white or black, and you’re in a red waistcoat and a red bow tie,’ the lady says. I go and hide behind a column because I already have high emotion seeping through my veins and there’s nothing I hate more in this world than people who are shit to hospitality staff. My family are in the restaurant business, we look after everyone like they’re our own. The last thing this party needs is a scene from me, because I would go nuclear, but I keep an ear and eye out, because that’s me.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I work for the hotel and I’m not part of the wait staff, I was not informed there were uniform changes,’ the old man says, his head bowed to the floor. I immediately scowl. It’s bloody New Year’s Eve.

‘That’s no excuse. I’m going to talk to the management about this,’ she says. As the woman comes into view, I see red hair, and do a sharp intake of breath. It’s Avery. The Avery. I knew she had bitch tendencies, I could feel it in my soul that this woman was the sort who would do this. But I also think about how over those seven years she would have ensnared Josh and treated him poorly. Should I go up and slap her? I should. I could just heckle her and then run. Something British so she won’t know what it means. WAZZOCK. But instead I reach into my clutch and I grab one of my sausage rolls and throw it at her. Hard. The gentleman in the waistcoat sees me and I run behind the column again to hide as it hits her head. The girl has PITCH and I smile broadly as I think of the person who taught me how to do that.

‘What the actual fuck?’ Avery says, putting a hand to her head and turning around sharply. She looks down at the floor and picks out crumbs from her hair. ‘Who was that?’

‘I think it was maybe a child, ma’am. They ran that way,’ the man says, pointing, and I bite my lip, trying to hold in my laughter. I hear her firm and loud footsteps tread away in pursuit. ‘Did you see what they looked like?’ she calls out.

‘Small, black hair, he was dressed in all white,’ the man says.

I wait till she’s gone, then pop my head out from the column to see the man looking at me, grinning. I approach him, still tiptoeing, and hug him. I’m not sure why. It feels like we had a moment of defeating a dragon and need to celebrate. I think he just thinks I’m drunk. I release him from the hug. ‘Gregory,’ I say, reading his name badge. ‘Hey. That felt good, it really did.’

‘Ma’am, was that a slider you threw at her?’ he says, laughing and looking at the missile on the floor.

‘It was pastry. She’ll live,’ I say. I open my clutch to reveal more and encourage him to take one. ‘What an absolute cowbag.’ He laughs, a satisfying throaty sound, and I smile back to see his change in mood. ‘I think the waistcoat looks divine. You’re keeping things fun and festive.’

‘I sure am. Your dress is lovely too.’

‘It’s swishy, Gregory. Check this out,’ I say, rotating my hips from side to side, making him chuckle.

‘Sincerely, thank you, ma’am, for the kindness. Here…’ He opens the door to the gents and goes to a basket on a little desk, comes back and hands me a lollipop. ‘For your troubles.’

‘I will accept that gladly, thank you, Gregory.’ I peer around the loos. ‘Just quickly, I’m looking for a friend. A gentleman in a tux, glasses, young, Clark Kent vibes.’ I reach for my phone and find a picture of him.

Gregory squints at my screen. ‘I know him. Friendly, good tipper?’