I'm Not in Love (Once Upon a Winter Book 2) (9 page)

The car pulled up beside them and Martine wound the window down.

‘I told you to wait,’ Mitchell frowned. ‘I said I’d be back.’

‘I got sick of waiting,’ Martine snapped back. ‘That’s all I seem to do these days – wait around for you…’ she threw an irritated glance in Hannah’s direction.

‘You’ve been drinking,’ Mitchell added.

‘Yes, I have. Is that a shock to you?’

‘Don’t be so facetious. I just can’t believe you’ve been stupid enough to drive.’

‘I’m stupid?’ Martine squeaked. ‘
I’m
stupid? I’m not the one wandering about on deserted country roads on the coldest night of the year.’ She pressed her lips together so hard that Hannah thought they might disappear. ‘Another habit you seem to have picked up.’

‘I told you I was coming to look for Hannah and then I’d be back.’

‘Yes, and I can see that you’ve found her so can we please all get in the car and take her to wherever it is she needs to be so desperately?’

‘Swap seats,’ Mitchell said curtly, ‘I’ll drive.’ He started walking towards the car.

‘I don’t need to be taken home,’ Hannah said, suddenly feeling belligerent about the whole thing. She didn’t particularly want to walk home but she certainly didn’t want to be stuck in a car with them like this. ‘I’m perfectly capable of making my own way.’

Martine raised her eyebrows as she got out of the car. ‘There you go,’ she said to Mitchell, ‘I told you as much.’

‘Just because she says it, doesn’t make it true. I’m sure in normal circumstances it’s alright but I can’t allow it tonight.’ He looked at Hannah, who was now standing at the roadside with her arms folded tight across her chest. ‘Get in the car, Hannah.’

‘Er… excuse me but you can’t talk to me like that – I’m not married to you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Martine cried. ‘He doesn’t get to talk to me like that either!’

‘She doesn’t mean anything,’ Mitchell sighed. ‘Give the suffragette bit a rest, will you? The pair of you are drunk.’

‘Yes, but you’re sober so you think everything through before you say it,’ Hannah fired back, giving him a meaningful look. It seemed to stop him in his tracks for a moment, before he recovered, and for the first time, Hannah wondered if she was seeing something of the real Mitchell Bond as he issued his command again.

‘Get in the car.’

‘No.’

‘Hannah… please get in the car. I can’t leave you out here, so if you don’t it means we’ll all stay out on this road arguing about it until the sun comes up.’

‘Or we’ll all get hypothermia and die,’ Martine added, in a voice that suggested she rather hoped Hannah would.

Hannah folded her arms tighter. She didn’t want to get in the car. Right now she’d rather climb into a vat of Ross’s sheeps’ poo, but she could see by the look on Mitchell’s face that he meant what he said and she didn’t fancy a standoff either.

‘For God’s sake, please get in,’ Mitchell sighed.

‘Fine,’ Hannah muttered. ‘But for the record I’m not happy about it.’

‘You’re not happy about us saving you a long and freezing walk home?’ Martine scoffed. ‘Who on earth would rather do that than get into our nice warm car and be chauffeured the rest of the way? You must be properly crazy…’

‘Enough, Martine, please…’ Mitchell replied as he held the door open for Hannah. She slid onto the back seat and could feel her hackles rising. If what he had said to her only moments before was true… and that incredible kiss meant something… then what was happening now? Why not tell Martine right this moment how he felt? If he wanted Hannah that badly, why not end it with Martine? She knew it probably wasn’t fair, and the timing was hardly right, but his silence felt incriminating somehow – as though he was trying to have his cake and eat it. It wasn’t as though Hannah would immediately fall into his arms but at least there would be a chance in the future for them. As things were now there was no chance at all. The fact that he did nothing only strengthened Hannah’s conviction that he may have believed he meant what he said, but even he couldn’t be certain of the truth. Perhaps he was suffering from some kind of guardian angel/Florence Nightingale effect, some psychological syndrome that led him to believe he was in love with the woman who had happened to be there during his hour of need. But this was not a situation to build true love on, and Hannah had been in enough flawed relationships to know that getting involved was a bad idea… if only her heart would listen to her head’s very sound advice.

*

The journey home was almost silent. Any pleasant tipsiness that Hannah had enjoyed earlier had now been replaced by nausea and a feeling of utter misery. She’d been having such a good night until Mr and Mrs Perfect turned up to ruin it. It was as though the moment in the
lane had never happened, and Hannah and Mitchell had reverted to the strangers they really were.

When they eventually pulled up outside her house, the silence was broken by Hannah.

‘Thanks,’ she said, not even sure what she was thanking them for. It certainly wasn’t for the lift home, which she’d wanted like a pocket full of cold jelly, and it wasn’t for ruining her night either. It definitely wasn’t for Mitchell helping to screw her up good and proper. She almost longed for the days when Jason had been around to screw her up instead. At least him having a good old fashioned affair was something normal that she’d known how to deal with. ‘I don’t suppose you could let Gina know I’ve come home if you see her,’ Hannah added.

‘Oh, I doubt we’ll be going back to the party now,’ Martine said icily. ‘What’s the point?’

Mitchell threw her a tired look. ‘I didn’t want to go to the party in the first place so it suits me.’

‘You never want to go anywhere these days,’ Martine shot back.

‘Well, in case you hadn’t noticed there’s a very good reason for that.’

‘Right…’ Hannah interrupted. The last thing she needed now was to witness a domestic. ‘I’m sure she’s seen my text anyway. I just didn’t want her to miss me and wonder where I was.’

‘I don’t think that will happen,’ Martine said. ‘If she’s the woman Mitchell pointed out to me, she looked very happy last time I saw her on her way out of the ballroom with a bit of fluff.’

Hannah wanted to ask what she meant by this loaded comment, but instead, she left them without another word, aware of Mitchell’s eyes on her as she made her way up the garden path, fishing for her keys as she went. It wasn’t until she slammed the front door shut and was safe inside that she heard the engine finally rev up to signal they were leaving.

Kicking off her shoes on the way through to the kitchen, Hannah sent another text to Gina to let her know she was back. She was slightly cross that Gina hadn’t replied to the last one, but realised she was going to have to wait to vent her frustrations. Instead, she busied herself changing into fluffy pyjamas and getting the fire going while she mused on her night. Mitchell’s face kept popping up, his words swimming around in her head, and the awful truth was beginning to dawn on her. He didn’t know his own mind, and his confession of how he felt was most probably flawed and not real at all – but Hannah’s mind was sound, and that made it worse. She could deny it all she wanted but the ache in her heart every time she thought of that kiss, when she recalled his arms around her, told a different story. Through
guilt, or a sense of duty, or for whatever reason, Hannah had to accept that she was not going to break them up. Mitchell and Martine had to work out their issues without her muddying the water. So where did that leave her? Even if she gave in to her desires there could there be no future with him.

*

Hannah bolted up on the sofa. She shivered, noting that the fire had burned down in the grate while she slept. It probably hadn’t been very good to start with, as she’d been far too drunk to do a decent job of building it. The blanket she’d tucked over herself had slid off too, and now lay in a heap on the floor next to the cold cup of strong tea she’d made and then forgotten to drink. She grabbed it and took a swig anyway, her mouth as dry as sand. It took a few moments to focus, and then she realised that it was a knock at the front door that had woken her.

It came again, more like impatient hammering this time.

‘Alright, alright…’ Hannah muttered as she toppled off the sofa and got to her feet. As soon as she was upright the room began to spin and her head felt as though fireworks were going off in her brain. She hadn’t cared too much about a New Year’s resolution this year, but she made a belated one now:
stop drinking
! Anything that made you feel like this must be knocking decades off your life expectancy.

Gina and Ross were standing on the front-door-step. It looked as though Ross was trying to calm her, but it wasn’t working – Gina looked furious.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she screeched as Hannah appeared. ‘You just walked out! Nobody knew where you were; Briony and Paul were panicking… then I found out you were at home!’

‘Sorry…’ Hannah mumbled. She might have given Gina as good as she got, but her brain wasn’t quite firing yet.

Gina pushed past her and into the house. ‘I’ve been worried sick!’

Ross gave Hannah an apologetic shrug. This conversation wouldn’t be happening if he and Gina had both shown a bit more restraint. But seeing how relaxed and natural they already were in each other’s company, Hannah couldn’t really be mad about that either.

‘I should probably go,’ he said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

‘Maybe that’s a good idea,’ Hannah said. ‘Thank you for bringing Gina back.’

‘It’s no problem. I would have brought you both back, even if you’d wanted to come away early; all you had to do was ask.’

‘I know, and it’s really sweet of you.’ Now was not the time to explain that it had been a teensy bit difficult to ask. ‘Goodnight Ross.’

He gave her a strained smile, and looked over her shoulder where Gina had just disappeared into the depths of the house. ‘Say goodnight to Gina for me.’

‘I will.’ Hannah felt bad for him. Gina shouldn’t have shook him off like that, no matter how annoyed she was with Hannah. ‘I’m sure she’ll call you or something,’ Hannah added, not sure if it was what he wanted to hear but feeling as though she ought to offer him something.

Ross gave her a brief nod, and then walked out into the night. Hannah closed the front door with a heavy sigh. Gina was in one of those moods where it was impossible to make her see anyone’s viewpoint but her own. She shuffled along to the living room.

‘Thanks a lot.’ Gina had flopped onto the sofa in Hannah’s spot. ‘Thanks for worrying me to death.’

‘I didn’t mean to. Didn’t you check your phone?’

‘Yes, but only after I’d had the whole bloody ballroom searching for you. Briony and Paul told me you looked a bit off and then I had visions of you collapsed under a bush or something freezing to death. It wasn’t until I checked my phone that I realised where you were and by then I looked a right chump.’

‘I don’t think you needed any help with that,’ Hannah replied. She sat down in a chair opposite Gina and curled her feet beneath her. ‘You should have checked your phone earlier, but I suppose you were too busy for that.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You know what it means.’

Gina sniffed. ‘I don’t but if you’re going to be cryptic about it then I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of asking. It’s obvious you want to have a pop at me about something. But
I’m
the aggrieved party here.’

‘Of course you are. That’s why I was forced to leave by myself when you were nowhere to be found.’

‘I didn’t know you were going to go loco on me and want to run off, did I? If you’d waited for ten minutes then Ross could have taken you home.’

‘Ten minutes? Is that how long it takes these days? I don’t think much of your technique.’

Gina frowned. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘You and Ross re-enacting the steamy car windows scene from
Titanic
.’

‘Nope, you’re still not making sense.’

‘I saw you… at least I saw the car windows and that was enough. Very classy. You could have booked a room, but no, you chose the really discreet route and messed around in the carpark for everyone to see.’

Gina’s mouth fell open. Then closed again. Then opened again but nothing came out. Finally, she clamped it shut. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she announced, and left Hannah alone by the fire.

*

Hannah was up hours before Gina. The events of the evening, followed by her argument with Gina in the early hours, weren’t exactly conducive to peaceful sleep. Finally, she had to give up and took herself down to the kitchen as the grey morning greeted her through the slats of the window blinds. Dropping a couple of soluble paracetamol tablets into a glass of water and downing it to ease her hangover, made her brain a little clearer. She’d overreacted last night – over Gina and Ross, over Mitchell and Martine, over everything – and she’d made herself look an idiot. If Briony ever tried to persuade her to go to a charity dance again, Hannah would make damned sure she booked herself onto the next flight out of the country to be as far away from it as possible.

There were footsteps on the floor above, and a few minutes later, Gina sloped into the kitchen.

‘Well, that wasn’t the best idea we’ve ever had, was it?’ Gina fixed a hand to her head as she sat at the dining table. ‘That’s the last time I let you talk me into going to a charity dance.’

‘I was thinking just the same thing,’ Hannah said from her station by the toaster as she waited for her breakfast.

‘Ugh… I feel like shit. Why don’t I learn to say no?’

‘We had fun, though… at least for most of it… well you did…’ Hannah raised her eyebrows and turned to look at her. She whizzed back around as her toast popped up and she dropped the slices onto a plate.

‘You’re seriously eating this morning?’ Gina said, grimacing as Hannah brought the plate to the table and reached for the butter dish.

‘Soaks up the alcohol. You should really have something too.’

‘Not likely. At least not yet.’

‘I could make you some sausage… oh, no, hang on, you already had some last night.’