BooksBarbecue
Back Just for December Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR LAURA JANE WILLIAMS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. Publishing Credits
  51. Keep Reading …
  52. About the Author
  53. Fiction by the same author
  54. About the Publisher

‘I feel like …’ he clarifies slowly. ‘Real life isn’t Ed Sheeran songs and mad airport dashes.’

Daphne blinks.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Cool …’

Duke mulls over the thought. Yeah. She’d said that, right when they’d first met. And then she literally sang an Ed Sheeran song?

‘Real life isn’t Ed Sheeran songs and mad airport dashes …’ he repeats, a little bit louder this time, starting to understand.

‘Duke …?’ starts Daphne, but he’s gone now; his head is somewhere else. He has to get to Evie. He needs to get to her right now this second.

His bags are still in his room – somebody else is taking care of that. He doesn’t even have a coat – just a wallet, passport and phone in his pocket. That’s all he needs, right?

‘Taxi!’ he calls to a passing cab. ‘TAXI!’

43

Duke

Ninety minutes into a cab ride to the airport, the initial adrenaline has worn off and Duke is feeling angsty. One minute he was all, let’s go! Yeah! and the next he’s … well, an hour and a half is an age to get somewhere in order to declare your romantic intentions, once you’ve wasted so much time deciding to actually do it.

He fiddles with his phone nervously, catching up on his texts: Auntie Patricia, just checking in, to Daphne to say no, he’s not there yet, to his publicist in LA to say he’s not sure about a plus-one for the Globes yet, can he go stag? Maybe go with Daphne? What are the optics on that?

‘Home for Christmas?’ his cab driver says, a tank of a man who isn’t afraid of the accelerator.

‘Yeah,’ Duke says, before, inexplicably, correcting: ‘Well, actually … Not right now. This isn’t my flight. This isn’t even my airport. I’m trying to catch somebody else before their flight.’

The driver peers at him in the rearview.

‘Woman?’ he says, his accent heavy in a way that makes him almost intimidating, like Duke had better not even consider withholding the truth from him.

‘A woman, yeah.’ Duke nods, making eye contact with him. The man nods back knowingly. ‘She’s already there, you see, flying to Utah, and I was going to fly to London, but what’s there, right? So I’ll probably go to LA … I think. I don’t know.’ And then he does something even more startling: he seeks the guy’s advice. He’s babbling nervously. God, why aren’t they here yet? ‘What would you do: London or LA?’

The man shrugs. ‘Nice choices,’ he notes. ‘You must have a nice life.’