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to buy me anything,’ Jacob said automatically. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t buy whatever he wanted when he wanted it, anyway. And, besides, Heather, more than anyone, never owed him a gift. Her continued existence was plenty for him.

      ‘It’s Christmas, Jacob.’ She spoke slowly, as if to a slightly stupid dog. ‘Everyone gets a present. You know the rules. So tell me what you want or I’ll buy you a surprise.’

      Only his sister could make a surprise gift sound like a threat. Although, given the tie she’d bought him last year, maybe it was.

      ‘A surprise will be lovely,’ he said, anyway. ‘Anything you think I’d like.’

      ‘You’re impossible.’ Heather sighed. ‘While I have you, when are you heading home for Christmas?’

      ‘Actually...’

      ‘Oh, no! Don’t say you’re not coming!’ She groaned dramatically. ‘Come on, Jacob! The office can cope for one day without you, you know. Especially since no one else will be working!’

      Jacob blinked as an almost exact echo of Heather’s words flooded his memory—except this time it was Clara speaking them, over and over. He shook his head to disperse the memory.

      ‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ he said. ‘In fact... I went to see Clara today.’

      ‘Clara?’ Heather asked, the surprise clear in her voice. ‘Why? What on earth for?’

      ‘I wanted to ask for her help.’ He took a breath. Time to share the plan, he supposed. If Clara wouldn’t help, it would all fall on him and Heather anyway. ‘I was thinking about Dad. This is going to be his last Christmas, Heather, and I want it to be special.’

      His sister went quiet. Jacob waited. He knew Heather was still struggling to come to terms with their father’s diagnosis. He wouldn’t rush her.

      ‘So, what have you got planned?’ she asked eventually.

      ‘Do you remember that year we hired that cottage in Scotland? You can only have been about five at the time, but we had a roaring log fire, stockings hung next to it, the biggest Christmas tree you’ve ever seen... It was everything Christmas is meant to be.’ It had also been the last Christmas before the accident. Before everything had changed in his relationship with his family.

      ‘You mean a movie-set Christmas,’ Heather joked. ‘But, yeah, I remember, I think. Bits of it, anyway. You want to do that again?’

      ‘That’s the plan.’

      ‘And what? You’re going to rope Clara into coming along to pretend that you’ve made up and everything is just rosy, just to keep Dad happy? Because, Jacob, that’s exactly the sort of stupid plan that will backfire when Dad defies all the doctors’ expectations.’

      ‘That’s not... No.’ That wasn’t the plan. He had no intention of pretending anything. Except, now that Heather had said it, he was already imagining what it would be like. Clara beside him on Christmas morning, opening presents together, his dad happy and smiling, seeing his family back together again...

      But no. That was not the plan. The last thing he needed was to get embroiled with his almost-ex-wife again. And, once Christmas was out of the way, he’d give her the divorce she wanted so desperately and make a clean break altogether.

      ‘She runs a concierge and events company here in London now,’ he explained. ‘They can source anything you need, put together any party, any plan. I wanted to hire her to organise our Christmas.’

      Heather sounded pitying as she said, ‘Jacob. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit desperate? If you wanted to see your ex-wife, you could have just called her up.’

      ‘Wife,’ he corrected automatically, then wished he hadn’t. ‘We’re still married. Technically.’

      His sister sighed. ‘It’s been five years, Jacob. When are you going to get over her?’

      ‘I’m over her,’ he assured her. ‘Very over her. Trust me. But she knows Dad and she knows the family. She could make this Christmas everything it needs to be, far better than I ever could. You probably don’t remember the parties she used to throw...’

      ‘I remember them,’ Heather said. ‘They were spectacular.’

      ‘Look, she hasn’t even said yes yet. And if she doesn’t I’ll find someone else to do it. It won’t be the end of the world.’ But it wouldn’t be the perfect Christmas he wanted either. Somehow, he knew in his bones that only Clara could give them that. She had a talent for seeing right to the heart of people, knowing exactly what made them light up inside—and what didn’t.

      He wondered sometimes, late at night, what she’d seen inside him that had made her leave. And then he realised he probably already knew.

      ‘Okay,’ Heather said, still sounding dubious. ‘I guess I’m in, in principle. But Jacob...be careful, yeah?’

      ‘I’m always careful,’ he joked, even though it wasn’t funny. Just true.

      ‘I’m serious. I don’t want to spend my Christmas holiday watching you nurse a broken heart. Again.’

      Jacob shook his head. ‘It’s not like that. Trust me.’

      Not this time. Even if he was harbouring any residual feelings for Clara, he would bury them deep, far deeper than even she could dig out.

      He wasn’t going to risk his heart that way a second time. Marriage might be the one thing he’d failed at—but he would only ever fail once.

CHAPTER THREE

      ‘WHAT DID HE WANT?’ Merry asked the moment Clara picked up the phone.

      Clara sighed. ‘Hang on.’

      Peeking around Ivy’s door one last time, she assured herself that her daughter was firmly asleep and pulled the door to. Then, phone in hand, she padded down the stairs to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and headed for the sofa.

      ‘Right,’ she said, once she was settled. ‘Let’s start with your thing at the art gallery. How was it?’

      Merry laughed. ‘Not a chance. Come on, your ex-husband walks into our offices right before Christmas, after five years of nothing except letters from his lawyers finding reasons to put off the divorce, and you think I’m not going to want details? Talk, woman.’

      So much for diversion tactics. ‘He wanted to hire Perfect London.’

      There was a brief moment of shocked silence on the other end of the phone. Clara took the opportunity to snag a chocolate off the potted Christmas tree in her front window and pop it in her mouth.

      ‘Seriously?’ Merry said at last. ‘Why?’

      ‘God only knows,’ Clara replied, then sighed again. ‘No, I know, I suppose. He wants us to arrange a perfect last Christmas for his dad. He’s sick. Very sick.’

      ‘And he thought his ex-wife would be the best person to organise it because...?’

      It wasn’t as if Clara hadn’t had the same thought. ‘I guess because I know him. All of them, really. I know what he means when he says “a perfect Christmas for Dad”. With anyone else he’d have to spell it out.’

      ‘So nothing to do with wanting to win you back, then,’ Merry said, the scepticism clear in her voice.

      ‘No. Definitely not.’ That, at least, was one thing Clara was very sure of. ‘He offered me a divorce if I do it.’

      ‘Finally!’ Merry gave a little whoop of joy, which made Clara smile. Sometimes, having a good friend on side made everything so much easier. Even seeing Jacob Foster again for the first time in five years. ‘Well, in that case, we have to do it.’

      ‘You

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