Breathlessly cold and gloomily dark, but none the less Christmas Eve at last. Thank goodness. Much as she loved running Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks, Frankie couldn’t wait to go home and relax and see her family and do all the traditional Christmas stuff and be fussed over by her parents and catch up with her brothers’ and sister’s gossip. Although, she admitted to herself, as she opened up the shop, she was going to miss Dexter. A lot. Which was stupid. Very stupid. It was only for three days after all. But she’d got so used to seeing him every day. And after the magical night out at Hideaway Home they’d seemed so much closer somehow. And it had been wonderful to actually tell someone all about the Joseph thing. It was true, Frankie thought as she scooped up the last of the post from the doormat, that talking about your troubles aloud really did help to put them into perspective. And Dexter had been a brilliant listener.
