Page 44 of Santa's Baby

I want Reuben.

I send my usualD&Smessage to Josh, since the proposal is marked on my calendar.Cool,he replies with a thumbs-up emoji.Have a good time?

The butterflies sail into a needy pit in my guts, ready to spill the beans. I want to tell Josh all about it – to talk through the craziness with my best friend and get some perspective. But I can’t do that. Not only because of the pinky promise to Reuben, but because he’d tell me I’m fucking insane.

Reuben is a goddamn founder, and this could cost me my whole career.

Josh would get me straight back onto my psychotherapist and have me make another pinky promise. One that states I’ll have nothing more to do with this craziness whatsoever. No Reuben Sinclair and dabbling in Agency founder business. He’d say I should never have touched it in the first place.

And he would be right. I should never have touched it in the first place – but my fingers are already burned.

It was cool, I message back to him.My butt hurts pretty bad, though.

He sends a laughing emoji.

I’d be surprised if it didn’t. I know what you’re like, Tiff.

I shove my phone back in my pocket, but it sounds out again. Another message from Josh.

Are you coming over tomorrow? Me and Ells want to see you.

Shit. I’ve been avoiding this. The inevitable conversation where the two of them try to convince me to join them at Josh’s family gathering for Christmas lunch. I usually go, even though Caroline – his youngest sister, who’s been a pain in my ass since we were teenagers – is always there, being a pain in my ass, like she alwayshasbeen since we were teenagers.

I’ve been playing the Christmas Day thing down whenever it’s come up recently, sayingnah, I’m busy.Ornah, you and Ells should make the most of your first family Christmas in private this year, but they won’t have it. This will be a serious ‘sit down and talk about it’ job – because Josh knows what the real deal is. Like he said, he knows exactly what I’m like.

He knows full well the real reason I don’t want to be there at Christmas dinner this year.

I won’t want to see Caroline’s baby bump as she sits there loved up with her amazing fiancé. Getting uncomfortable around smiling families at shopping malls is hard enough, but doable. Christmas dinner with Caroline would be off the scale, though. Even the thought of it gives me feel sick. Baby talk, and fawning, and Pinterest boards of nursery décor would take up at least ninety percent of the conversation all day fucking long.

And now I’ve been playing with Reuben, likethat.

Even though it was just a small part of the show, I’m already feeling the backlash. The pain I’ve been burying deeper, year after year.

I won’t be able to handle Caroline. No way. So, why beat around the bush?

I’m not coming,I type.Not tomorrow, and not to Xmas dinner. I’ll get an extra special rate for a Christmas Day booking. I’ll be coining it, and I’ll be fine, seriously. Don’t worry about it. x

‘I’ll be fine, seriously. Don’t worry about it.’

I use that phrase like a mantra, constantly, and it’s usually true. It’s just now that I’m getting older, with the contrast of cute little Caroline with her cute little baby bump… it just isn’t feeling quite the same.

The wrenched apart from Reuben feeling sure isn’t helping. Jesus fucking Christ, I feel like such a gooey twat.

I shove my phone back in my hoodie yet again but get another ping straight through. No doubt some pacifying message about how Caroline won’t be such a dick, and if I want to talk about anything we can do it without Ella, in the friendship code or whatever.

I love him for it, I really do. I’ll tell him so, but I’m not going to change my mind.

Only the message onscreen isn’t from Josh. It’s a proposal notification.

Fuck. It can’t be. Not already.

User 5639. Male. 47.

Suddenly those butterflies have swarmed and my heart is in my throat.

I had a great time tonight, Creamgirl. I wish you could have stayed longer, but I know proposals are proposals, and time out means time out.

This time around, I want to book more hours with you. Go big, or go home, as they say.