"Have a great break, everyone. See you in the New Year." Helen patted her clipboard on her thigh and watched as most of the group headed straight for the exit instead of the refreshment table. "Beatrice, could I see you a moment?"

I turned to Matt, my eyes wide, and asked him to wait outside. My chest tightened with each step closer. Being singled out by Helen was never for a catch-up. Something I had said, or inadvertently done, had landed me in this position and I mentally scolded myself. Where had I gone wrong?

"Don't look so scared. It's nothing bad." She wandered over to the window and motioned for me to follow her. "Lovely sharing today, Beatrice. You've come a long way and should be proud of your progress." She paused for a moment and my stomach knotted as I awaited her next sentence. The crease in her forehead twitched and I could tell I wouldn't like her follow-up statement.

"Dr Westcott called–"

There it was. My temples throbbed and my neck tensed as soon as his name was mentioned. Nothing good ever came from that name.

"–and we both agreed that you should move from the group sessions to one-on-one therapy."

"But, you just said I was making progress. It's working."

"You are but we–, I feel you would benefit more from individual sessions."

"Why?" Matt and I had been so happy that morning. He was staying over at my house for Christmas and all that excitement I carried into my therapy group evaporated.

She moved around me and turned her back to a couple of people lingering in the room. "I'm afraid you're learning to mask your grief instead of tackling the root of the problem. In the group sessions, I simply don't have enough time to dig deeper on each individual patient. You came to me as a step into therapy and I feel you're ready for more. Of course, we can't force you, but please think about it."

I let myself down when I brought up the rafting trip to Wales. It had to be that. If only I had sent her the links to my research about high-risk activities. Did Matt tell her about Halloween night? Or did my mum call Dr Westcott about the nightmares that had yet to stop? I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. Just when I thought I was getting better.

"This isn't bad news, Beatrice. Most of the people here also see me outside of the group or have done in the past. Wouldn't it be nice to sit in the front of a car again or visit your old work colleagues at the hospital?"

"That would be nice." My voice cracked, and I finally opened my eyes again. Helen wanted to help, but all I heard were negative points. Masking my grief. More intense therapy. I wasn't better.

"I believe we're close to that breakthrough if we put a little more work in." She lightly squeezed my elbow. "Enjoy your break with your family and when we open again in the new year, call the clinic. I've pencilled in the times I can see you, or you could go to one of my colleagues if you prefer? Dr Westcott has your referral waiting on file so everything is set up and ready to go."

My bones ached and my head hurt from all this new information. I chewed on the inside of my cheek and barely nodded my acknowledgement before walking back to Matt.

"What did she want?" He grabbed my bag off my shoulder and linked his fingers with mine.

I glanced past him, back into the room towards Helen who had moved on to another victim, and gave a half shrug. What could I say to him? I didn't want to put a dampener on our first Christmas together, so I lied. Lying was easier.

When I turned to him, I plastered a big fake smile on my face and pushed all my worries down. "Just to congratulate me on my progress. Come on, let's go. My parents are waiting."

***

A mixture of cinnamon and orange wafted through the door as Zaire welcomed us to the Dimous' Christmas dinner party. Each year either my parents, Zaire's or Saffron's organised the annual get-together to kick off the festive period. Last year that never happened, and this one, Saffron's family declined the invitation.

On our way home, my mum had asked us to pick up the turkey she had reserved at the butcher's for Christmas dinner, and the bottles of wine my dad had ordered from the off-licence. With only two days to go, every single one of us was tasked with completing an item on Mum's never-ending list, and we all knew better than to ignore The List. When we were done, Matt and I had rushed home, changed and followed my parents to our friends' house.

Leaving Matt behind to talk cars with my dad and Zaire, I wandered into the kitchen and put down a bottle of gold-flecked gin on the counter for Joselyn. Considering the number of guests in the house, the area was surprisingly clean and free of the usual plates of food.

"Got a minute, Bea?" Zaire snuck up beside me and leaned his elbow on the kitchen island.

My shoulders flinched, and I pushed the expensive bottle of alcohol further away from the edge, afraid I would knock it off the side. "Where's Nana Jossy? And how is this kitchen so clean?" Not even a steaming pot of mulled wine bubbling on the stovetop.

"You mean why isn't she cooking?" He scratched his ear and glanced behind him. "I'm just as disappointed. Argument after Nan told Mum she didn't know how to cook and burns everything, so Dad ordered in. Saves Nan lumped with it again. Foods all in the dining room"

I smiled, picturing both headstrong ladies not wanting to back down, but both knowing Jossy was right. "Fair enough. You wanted to talk about something?"

"Yeah. Actually, can we go to my room? Prefer it was just the two of us for this." He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. In all the years I had known Zaire, I had never seen him so uncomfortable.

I nodded and followed him up the stairs, my movements strained and my mind busy with a million different reasons for this chat. Zaire paced around his room and eventually fell back into his desk chair. I watched him pick at his nails, swing his seat from side to side and get lost in his thoughts. The delay only made my confusion grow.

"Seriously, what is up with you? You look like you've robbed a bank. I can see the sweat on your forehead." My stomach clenched, and I grasped the edge of the bed, hoping for an anchor. I needed to stop overthinking, but it was a reflex I struggled to let go of. Helen was right, and that realisation made me feel stupid.

"Yeah. Okay. Fine. So–" he let out a loud sigh and ran his hand over his face. "I–. Well. You know–"

"Spit it out already. You're making me nervous and I hate that."

He stood and took a few steps closer, then retreated to the other side of his room. The sight of my best friend tore me up. I wanted to hold him close, to tell him he could say anything and everything would be okay, but with both of us letting discomfort claw at our insides, the space between us grew wider.

"Okay. I have something for you. And before I give it to you, I want to point out that this might seem weird and probably the worst timing. And you might hate it so you can give it back. I won't get upset. But really hope you don't because I won't know what to do otherwise and–"

"Z, you're waffling. Chill. It's just me."

Zaire pulled out an object from his pocket and dropped a small velvet box on the bed next to me. Blood rushed to my ears, and I forgot how I was supposed to breathe. Before even opening it, I knew what was in the box and why he looked so queasy leading up to this moment.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Saffron's ring."

My fingers toyed with the edge of the box, and I didn't dare glance over at my friend. "I know. Can I open it?"

Met with silence, I lifted my chin and my heart sank. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes swam with tears.

Momentarily forgetting the ring, I stretched out for his hand and tugged until he sat beside me. "We don't have to do this now."

"But I do. I don't know what to do anymore. I love her. I will always love her, but I have to move on and having that ring is stopping me. The guilt is killing me." Those were the words that crushed me. Not the set back from that morning or the ring or even Saffron missing out on yet another day. But that in all this, Zaire felt guilty when he had no reason to.

"But I can't sell it or chuck it. I know this is a lot to ask. I get it. But will you take it? She'd want you to have it over anyone else."

"Are you sure about this? Don't you want to keep it in case you meet someone?" I said, my voice calm unlike the slight unease lingering in my gut.

"Nah. That would be weird, right?" He rubbed his hands down his thighs and sighed. I wasn't sure if he wanted my answer to his question or if he was mulling it over in his head. Before I had a chance to respond, he added, "Imagine Matt gave you something of Bailey's? Wouldn't feel right. Then multiply that by an engagement ring." He twisted towards me and raised his eyebrows, waiting for his explanation to register.

I grimaced and covered his hand with mine. "Really weird."

"Right? Knew it." He reached over for the ring box and flipped it between his fingers. "I don't know what to do with it."

"I'll take it." I rushed to break the tension. "And if you want it back one day, it's yours. Just say the word. I'm sorry, Z. I've been a shitty friend lately." I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight, burying my head into his neck. The first tear fell against his t-shirt as I spoke my last sentence, and the rest followed as we both squeezed hard, afraid of letting go.

"What are you talking about? I love you, Bea. I wouldn't have gotten through this year without you."

"Well, shit. Now you have me ugly crying and the party hasn't even started."

Zaire released a brief laugh and wiped the heel of his palm over his eyes. "Prettiest crier I know." He handed over a sealed pack of tissues and stood. "We better get back. Others are probably wondering where we are."

"Wait. Can I wear it tonight?" I asked while dabbing the corner of my eyes and fixing my eyeliner. If she couldn't be here with us, something of hers could be.

"I'd love that." He removed a delicate gold band from the velvet box and placed it on the middle finger of my right hand. The cluster of small round diamonds glistened as he slid it past my knuckle and my chest tightened. Saffron would have adored this ring. Zaire smiled and fastened his arm around my back as we made our way down the stairs and into the dining room.

Our family and friends, spread out across the room, laughed together amongst the warm glow of twinkling lights and clinking of champagne flutes. Zaire slipped away from my side and blended into the group, taking his usual position at the centre of the crowd. The harsh lines on his forehead had eased, any evidence of his previous discomfort vanished. If anyone noticed our absence, they never mentioned it.

Before I had time to shrink into the shadows on the outskirts of the party, Matt found me and steered us into the middle of the festivities. The simple touch of his hand in mine washed the last remnants of nervousness that coursed through my veins, helping to reset the overwhelming emotions of the day.

***

❤️