Abbie must’ve sensed the change in his thoughts, seen it on his face, because her smile faded and she shook her head. “Oh, Will. This is no good, is it?”

His heart stilled. Me being without you? No, it’s not. “What?”

“It’s Christmas, or near enough. We can’t have you upset. So …” She flicked a glance outside at the steady swirl of snow in the moonlight, and he saw a familiar, thoughtful smile curve her lips. “I know what we should do.”

Oh God, he thought. “Oh God,” he said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Even though he suddenly really, really wanted to do it. “I’ll probably slip and break my neck.”

“Doubt it,” she replied. “How drunk are you? Get up,” she ordered, “and walk in a straight line.”

He did, though he knew he shouldn’t. “It’s the middle of the night, and we’re grown-ups.”

“Shut up. It’ll make you smile.” She watched his slightly wobbly walk, then shrugged her shoulders. “That’s good enough.”

“Is it?”

She clearly wasn’t listening. “Put some clothes on and meet me outside.”

Six

Abbie wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up here.

Actually, that wasn’t true. She knew how she’d ended up downstairs—couldn’t sleep, needed a cup of tea to silence the warring, worried thoughts in her mind. And she knew how she’d ended up wanting to make Will smile—she’d seen him drowning his sorrows during what sounded like a horrible call with his agent, had seen the sadness in his eyes as he spoke about ending his career, and knew from experience that deciding to cut something off because it was time didn’t stop it from hurting like hell.

She just wasn’t sure what had possessed her to fix things by dragging Will out to play in the snow.

Now here they stood, coats zipped up over their thermal pyjamas, bathed by the flashing red lights of Grandma’s giant SANTA STOP HERE inflatable. She snuck a look over at Will and found him tipping his head back to face the gently falling snow. His eyes were closed, his nose pink, his smile sweet and dreamy. Her heart stuttered. Her carefully muzzled emotions snarled awake. The sheer force of her want, stronger than ever—or maybe just harder to ignore—almost dragged her across the metres between them.

Abbie’s toes curled up in her boots as though she could cling to her spot on the grass.