Make My Wish Come True

‘Please tell me there really is fudge,’ he said, looking at the tray still cooling on the kitchen counter.

She picked it up and placed it into the centre of the kitchen table, but it went too quiet as he watched her cut it into neat squares and suddenly she felt very self-conscious under his gaze. ‘More tea?’ she asked a little too loudly, and prised a generous helping of clotted cream fudge onto a plate.

Will shook his head. ‘I think I’ve already drunk a gallon this afternoon.’

Juliet frowned as she divided one of the fudge squares in two and popped it on a plate for herself. ‘It’s a bit rich to eat on its own.’ She scanned the kitchen, looking for something else to offer him, and her gaze came to rest on a bottle sitting near the hob, one she’d opened for the casserole she’d made yesterday. She grabbed the red wine and plonked it down on the kitchen table with a thud.

Will’s eyebrows raised.

‘You’re right,’ she said, sighing. ‘It has been one hell of a week.’

She peeked out of the window. Although it was just after four, the sun was close to setting. It was practically evening. Not too early for a civilised glass of wine with a friend.

He didn’t exactly smile, but his eyes warmed, so she fetched a couple of glasses from the cabinet and poured them both a modest amount. It didn’t take long to fill him in on the whole story of Aunt Sylvia’s great escape the day before. Somehow her glass emptied and she found herself reaching for the bottle and dishing out more wine – a more generous helping this time. It seemed a shame to leave a tiny bit in the bottom of the bottle.

When she was halfway through it, she started to wonder about the wisdom of too much Merlot with only half a square of fudge to line one’s stomach, especially as Will had listened so sympathetically to her tale of woe that she just kept talking.

‘It seems so quiet at the weekends when the kids are at Greg’s,’ she said, her shoulders slumping a little. ‘I know I moan that they drive me insane when they’re here, but it’s even worse when they’re gone.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, well. I suppose at least I’ve got them all to myself for Christmas this year.’

Will, who’d been not-so-surreptitiously reaching for another piece of fudge, looked at her. ‘I thought you said Greg and the new girlfriend were supposed to be coming here for a united family Christmas?’

She shook her head. And then nodded. ‘Well, I offered, but apparently Anoushka made plans that were just too good to pass up. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that came through her job, Greg said.’ She hated the tinge of bitterness that had crept into her tone. ‘They’re going to Bali, or somewhere like that. Escaping the Christmas madness.’

Will looked puzzled. ‘That doesn’t sound like the Greg I know.’

Juliet shrugged. It didn’t sound like the Greg she knew either. He hadn’t been like that when they’d been married. She’d have loved it if he’d wanted to drop everything just to be with her, or if he’d whisked her off on an exotic holiday. But work and commitments had always come first with Greg. And she’d understood that. Supported it, even. But he’d changed the moment he’d met flipping Anoushka, and for some reason that really cheesed her off.

She shook her head and took another large slug of wine. ‘She’s the love of his life, apparently. At least, that’s the only explanation he gave me when I called him on it.’

Without warning her eyes filled with moisture. She quickly looked down at the table and worked her eyelashes hard, trying to get it to evaporate. After a few seconds a warm hand covered hers. She took in a shuddering breath then peered at Will through the long fringe that had fallen over her face when she’d bowed her head.

His expression might have seemed neutral to a stranger, but Juliet glimpsed the understanding in his eyes. ‘I know it’s hard …’

She nodded. After a few seconds she slid her hand from underneath his and curled her fingers round the stem of her wine glass. She knew he knew.

‘It’s just that once you have a ring on your finger, you think you’ve earned the right to be the love of someone’s life. I mean, if they didn’t feel that way, why would they marry you in the first place?’ This was a question she’d asked herself a thousand times since Greg’s surprise exit, and a thousand times more since he’d met the fabulous Anoushka.

‘I wouldn’t mind …’ Now the confessions had started spilling out of her she couldn’t seem to stop. ‘But she’s not the trophy wife upgrade, is she? I think I could have coped with that better, because Greg was always fussy about appearances, and I know I’m hurtling into middle age …’

Will gave her a look that might have said Stop it! but she ignored him.

‘But she’s two months older than me. She’s shorter and at least a dress size bigger. She’s not Juliet mark two, the sleeker, faster model. She’s just … different.’

Not her.

Maybe that’s why Greg had never once told her she was the love of his life. Not that she’d realised his omission until far, far too late.

‘More fool him, then,’ Will said firmly, but Juliet couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t a possessive kind of look, more a I’m sticking up for my friend kind of look. What had the hand thing been about, then? Did he like her? And did she want him to? Oh, she was so confused!

She didn’t want to be ‘back on the market’ again. It was too nerve-racking. The Juliet who used to date and go dancing and knew how to talk to men who weren’t her husband seemed like a creature from a parallel universe.

‘Did you feel this way when Samantha left?’ she asked.

‘If you mean, did I understand my significant other running off then hooking up with an older, fatter woman, then no.’

Juliet couldn’t help but laugh. This was what she liked about Will. He always made her feel better. His presence was … comforting.

He gave her a wry smile. ‘Did I second-guess myself for months afterwards? Yes. I know Sam and I weren’t together anywhere close to the amount of time you were with Greg, but it does get better. You just need to give yourself time, Juliet.’

Time. How unfortunate that time was a commodity in short supply in her life at the moment. Juggling kids and home had been hard enough when there’d been another adult around. Doing it on her own now there was a part-time job and a senile aunt thrown into the mix was nigh on impossible. Will was right, though. She needed time.

Oh, not just the days and weeks and months ticking past, although that had helped. She didn’t even really want Greg back any more. She just didn’t want to be jealous of what he had now. If life was fair, it would be her who was having a passionate affair, while her ex moped around his empty house regretting what he’d so carelessly thrown away.

A snuffle of laughter almost escaped. Yeah, right. Passionate affair? Who in their right mind would want one of those with her?

‘It gets so complicated, doesn’t it?’ she said thoughtfully, and then, just to see how Will would respond to the probe, she threw in another question. ‘And have you had enough time? Have you moved on?’

Will thought for a moment, and then he nodded. ‘I think I have.’

Which led to something else she wanted to know. ‘So why haven’t I seen a steady parade of attractive women beating down your door?’

‘Well, there hasn’t been any actual door beating as such, but I’ve been on a few dates.’

Oh. She hadn’t expected him to say that. ‘Anyone nice?’ she asked nonchalantly and twisted the stem of her wine glass in her fingers.

He sighed. ‘That’s not the problem.’

She glanced up at him. ‘Then what is?’

He shook his head gently. ‘I just always seem to go for the wrong type …’

‘What does that mean?’

‘There have been a few girls I’ve been out with that have sparked my interest, but I let it fizzle out after a few dinners. The ones I want to see again always end up reminding me of Sam.’

‘Really?’

‘I don’t mean looks-wise, I mean personality-wise …’ He lifted one shoulder then let it drop again. ‘Even when I try not to, I end up asking out someone who turns out to be just like her – free-spirited, unpredictable.’

‘Exciting, you mean,’ Juliet said, feeling her stomach sink. There it was again, that phrase. Free-spirited. It seemed that was what men wanted, even when they didn’t want to want it.

Will held her gaze. ‘Unreliable.’

She found she couldn’t look away. ‘And you don’t want that?’

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I’m ready to stay in one place, put down some roots. That’s why I bought that big old house next door in the first place.’

‘Probably shouldn’t have made the big old marriage proposal to go with it without finding out if she wanted that too.’