extra staff for the event and more than a few late nights. Everything was in place as much as it could be while they finished dealing with their more usual Christmas bookings. Clara planned to take Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day off entirely to spend the time with Ivy. Her own perfect little family.
It was natural for Ivy to be curious about her dad, Clara knew. But she also knew, deep in her heart, that they were better off with just the two of them. They were a team. A duo. They didn’t need anyone else, people who could walk out at any moment or decide they’d found something better or more important to focus on.
Right now, Ivy knew she was the most important thing in her mother’s world, and Clara would never do a thing to risk ruining that.
‘You’re staring at the tree again,’ Merry said. ‘It’s getting creepy. What’s got you all pensive? Christmas Past... Are you thinking about your ex?’
‘Sort of, I suppose.’ Clara busied herself, tidying up the wrapping paper and ribbons. As much as she loved Merry, she really didn’t want to talk about Jacob.
Merry, apparently, didn’t get that memo. ‘Do you ever regret leaving him?’
‘No,’ Clara said firmly. Did she feel guilty about it? Yes. Did she wonder what might have happened if she’d stayed? Sure. But regret... How could she regret the life she had now, with her daughter? ‘But... I guess I’m still missing some closure, you know?’
‘You know what would help with that?’ Merry said. ‘An actual divorce. Honestly, it’s been, what, five years?’
‘It’s not like I haven’t asked for one. Repeatedly.’ But Jacob had money and, more important, better lawyers. If he wanted to stall, they knew all the possible ways to make it happen. And, for some reason, he didn’t seem to want their divorce to go through.
‘Yeah, but it’s not like you’re even asking for anything from him. Not that it wouldn’t have been a help at the start.’ Merry still hadn’t quite got over the fact that Clara had walked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small bag of personal belongings. But she had wanted to leave that whole part of her life behind, and taking money from Jacob would have tied her to him.
Although, as it turned out, she’d walked away with something much more binding than money. Even if she hadn’t known it then.
That was where the closure came in. It wasn’t just about them—it was about Ivy too. Had she done the right thing, not going back when she’d discovered she was pregnant? At the time, she’d been so sure. Jacob had made it very, very clear that they would not be having a family together. And she’d wanted her baby so desperately, in a way she’d never realised she would until the moment she’d seen the word pregnant appear on the test.
But, every now and then, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if she’d told him.
‘I don’t know what goes on in my ex-husband’s brain,’ Clara said. ‘I never did. If I had known, maybe we’d still be married.’
‘And then you wouldn’t be here with me,’ Merry replied. ‘And that would suck. So, let’s just forget all about him.’
‘Good plan,’ Clara agreed, relieved. ‘Besides, I need to talk to you about the decorations for the Colemans’ house...’
* * *
The Christmas lights twinkled along the length of the trendy London street, illuminating coffee shops and gift boutiques with flashes of glittering brightness. Jacob Foster moved slowly through the crowds of shoppers, feeling conspicuous in his lack of shopping bags, lists and most of all haste, even in the cold winter drizzle.
It wasn’t that his errand wasn’t urgent. He just wasn’t all that keen to jump into it. Especially since he had no idea how it was likely to go. He’d been trying to think his way through it for the whole journey there; which approach had the best chance of success, what he could say to get her to say yes. He’d still not come to a final decision.
He still wasn’t completely sure he should be there at all. This might be the worst idea he’d had since he was sixteen. He’d spent five years putting distance between them, moving on and forgetting her. The last thing he needed was to let Clara in again.
But he was doing it anyway. For family. Because, despite everything that had happened between them, Clara was still family—and this job couldn’t be given to anybody but family.
He turned down a small side street lined with offices and within moments he found himself standing outside a neat apple-green office with the words ‘Perfect London’ emblazoned above the door, and knew his thinking time was up.
He paused, his hand on the door ready to push it open, and stared for a moment through the large window. There she was. Clara.
Her dark hair hung down over her face as she leant across a colleague’s desk to point at something on a computer screen. It obscured her eyes but, since that meant she couldn’t see him, Jacob supposed that was for the best.
She looked well, he supposed. The cranberry-coloured wrap dress she wore clung to curves he remembered too well, and his gaze followed the length of her left arm from the shoulder down to where her hand rested on the desk. He looked closer. No ring.
Jacob took a breath, trying to quieten the large part of his brain that was screaming at him that this was a stupid idea and that he should just turn and leave now. It had been five long years; what was five more? Or ten? Or forever? He’d already been stung by failure with Clara before. Why risk that again?
But no. His plan mattered, far more than any history he and Clara shared, no matter how miserable. He’d decided he would make this thing happen, and he would. Jacob Foster kept his word and he didn’t let people down. Especially not his family.
And they were all counting on him. Even if they didn’t actually know about his plan just yet.
But he needed help. Clara’s help, to be specific. So he couldn’t turn and walk away.
He just had to make it clear that this was business, not pleasure. He wasn’t there to win her back, or remind her how good they’d been together. He was there to ask for her professional help, that was all.
He took another deep breath and steeled himself to open the door.
She’d listen, at least, he hoped. Hear him out. She had to.
She was still his wife, after all.
* * *
Clara brushed the hair back from her face and peered at the screen again. ‘I’m still not sure it’s going to be big enough.’
Sitting at the desk beside her, Merry sighed. ‘It’s the biggest I’ve been able to find, so it might just have to do.’
‘Have to do doesn’t sound very Perfect London,’ Clara admonished. ‘If it’s not right—’
‘We keep looking,’ Merry finished for her. ‘I know. But can I keep looking tomorrow? Only I’ve got that thing tonight.’
‘Thing?’ Clara searched her memory for the details. Best friends and business partners were supposed to know this stuff, she was sure. ‘Oh! The thing at the art gallery!
