Author’s Note

This book contains mentions of abuse and depictions of anxiety. I have tried to handle these topics as lovingly as I am able. I hope this romance is a Christmas comfort read.

Talia xx

One

@DoURe1dMe:

@AbbieGrl: Welcome home.

“I come bearing biscuits!”

Abigail Farrell stopped typing numbers into her spreadsheet du jour, removed her cat-eye spectacles, and massaged the bridge of her nose. Hard. “Chitra,” she said. “Remember our little chat, the other day? About how you are too pregnant to trek across campus every time you fancy a tea break, and you should stay in the biology block and call me instead?”

Chitra, who was round and glowing and far too pleased with herself, gave a derisive snort. “I can’t say I remember that, no—”

“How convenient,” Abbie murmured darkly.

“But I do remember telling you that I need to stretch my legs more. So shut up.” Chitra plopped takeout cups from the school’s canteen onto Abbie’s desk, shoving administrative paperwork out of the way in a flash of mauve nails and gold bangles. Then she sank into one of Abbie’s office chairs and propped her ankle-booted feet up on the other. “How goes the world of office management, my darling?”

“Swimmingly,” Abbie said, because everything she organised went swimmingly. Except for Chitra, who unfortunately refused to be controlled. “How goes the world of corralling whiny brats?”

Chitra arched a dark eyebrow. “You’re convincing no one with that ‘I hate kids’ routine. I know you keep a tub of sweets under your desk for any lost twelve-year-olds.”

Oh dear. If that information were widely known, it would completely undo the Fuck off and leave me alone aura Abbie had cultivated with her colleagues. Next thing you knew, people would be popping by her office for chats at all hours.

She made a mental note to hide the box of Celebrations better and wear more aggressive eyeliner. “I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“You’re ridiculous. Drink your tea and have a biscuit, you dizzy cow.”

Grudgingly, Abbie obeyed. The tea was rather nice. The canteen staff had added cinnamon in deference to the festive season, which was about as much Christmas spirit as she could stand.

“I have news, by the way,” Chitra said, biting into a gingerbread shaped like Santa’s head.

“Mm. Do tell.”

“According to my Instagram feed, Will Reid has been spotted at LAX. His fangirls reckon he’s coming home for Christmas. Isn’t that nice?”

Abbie wasn’t surprised by this information; she’d already known, courtesy of the three Union Jack emojis Will himself had sent her an hour ago.