One More for Christmas(13)

“Right.”

Samantha ran her hand over the back of her neck.

Was she doing the right thing?

What was she going to say when she arrived at the hospital? Were they just going to ignore what had happened the last time they’d met?

Her mother probably didn’t even know she’d moved to Boston.

Charlotte was making notes. “I’ll book you a flight and a car to the airport, and I’ll call everyone on our list and explain that you’ve had a family emergency and—”

“No.” Samantha rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Some of those calls can’t wait. The car needs to go via my apartment, so I can pack an overnight bag. Get Kyle on the phone, because I need to apologize, and also the guy from Scotland—because we have clients who would just love his place and I need to get that visit arranged. Tell the others I’ll call them back as soon as I can.”

“Are you sure? Kyle will understand if you—”

“Just get him on the phone, Charlotte. Thank you.”

She knew that if there was to be any chance of saving their relationship she needed to speak to him right now. But what exactly was she saving? And did she want to save it? Kyle was interesting, good-looking, solvent, and he had no unfortunate habits as far as she could see. He bought her flowers. Found good restaurants. She should want to save it.

Except her feelings weren’t engaged, and she never felt as if his were, either.

It was all so—restrained. A little cold. When they were out together she’d never felt an overwhelming desire to drag him somewhere private so that they could be alone. He’d never appeared overwhelmed by her, either. He was perfect for outer Samantha—the version of herself that she showed to the real world, but inner Samantha? The person she really was under the poise and polish? Wild Samantha. That woman wanted so much more.

Why did she find it so hard to be that woman? What exactly was holding her back?

Could she really blame her mother?

She sat up a little straighter.

She wasn’t a toddler. There came a point where you had to take responsibility.

If something had to change, then she was the one who had to change it.

She winced, aware that her thoughts could have come straight from her mother’s book. Choice Not Chance. That damn book that slapped her in the face every time she walked into a bookstore.

For a moment she hesitated, loath to do anything that felt like following her mother’s advice.

And then she realized how ridiculous that was. This was her life and her decision. Her mother wouldn’t even know about it.

She wasn’t waiting until the New Year to make a resolution. She was making it right now—starting with Kyle. She wasn’t saving the relationship; she was breaking up with him. Not only had she forgotten their date, she hadn’t even realized she’d forgotten it. She wasn’t an expert on relationships, but even she knew that wasn’t good. What she had with Kyle wasn’t what she wanted.

No more bland, safe, unsatisfying relationships. The next man she met, she was going to be open and honest with him. She was going to take a risk and share her thoughts and feelings, instead of keeping them locked away. Maybe if she did that, her relationships would change and she’d feel passion. She wanted that. She wanted to be emotionally involved.

Satisfied that her mother would be suitably horrified by that revelation, Samantha felt better.

“Let’s make those calls, Charlotte.”

“Okay...well, for the record, I think you’re very brave, holding it together like this.” Charlotte checked her tablet. “Just to clarify—because my brain is a little fuzzy after Amy’s eventful night—I’ll call your mother’s assistant back and say you’ll go to the hospital later. I’ll tell the Mortons that you feel Iceland is the perfect choice for them, that it’s your personal recommendation and that you’ll call to discuss it once they’ve taken a look at the itinerary we suggest. I’ll get the laird on the phone so you can try and persuade him that you don’t need to visit, and I’ll also call your sister.”

“Not my sister. I’ll call my sister. You get Kyle for me. And stop calling the Scottish guy ‘the laird’ or I’ll do it by accident.”

“Right. Got it.”

Flustered, Charlotte left the room with the others and Samantha returned to her desk.

She closed her laptop and slipped it into her bag. She’d be able to do some work on the flight, or maybe in the hospital. It was unlikely that her mother was going to want her hanging out in her room.

She reached under her desk, rescued her shoes and slid them on, not wanting to analyze why she needed to wear heels to break up with a guy over the phone.

The thought of seeing her mother made her feel mildly nauseated. So did the thought of speaking to Kyle. She felt the same flutter of nerves in her stomach that she’d felt before she’d done a parachute jump for charity.

She smoothed her hair, then reached across to the phone on her desk and stabbed a button. “Charlotte? If you’re not feeding Amy, could you bring me a drink, please?”

“Sure! Tea or coffee?”

“Vodka. Rocks.”

There was a brief silence. “Right. Coming up.”

Charlotte appeared a moment later, ice clinking in the glass she held. “Here. And I’m not judging you, so don’t worry about that. Your mom is in the hospital, your relationship is ending...basically your personal life is a total mess, so you shouldn’t feel bad about needing a drink.”