Christmas Eve Anna retraced her footsteps. No longer her happiest woman in the world footsteps. Now she was returning Gian’s Christmas presents.
Except one. The cookbook in which she’d written To My Favourite Chef, Love Anna. It would have to remain unreturned. Hidden away somewhere. Like their history together.
Anna surprised herself at just how stoic she was. Until her last stop. The men’s fragrance counter at Holt Renfrew. She was returning the cologne she'd bought Gian. When she pulled the cologne and the receipt from her bag suddenly a wave of sadness welled up inside her. No, not a wave. More like a tsunami.
She stared blankly at the sales clerk. Anna’s throat grew tight and then she cried. Salty tears and brown mascara trickled down her cheeks all the way to her lips.
Is it a man darling? It was the sales clerk. All she could do was nod.
He walked out from behind the counter, handed Anna a tissue and then without a moment of hesitation he put his arms around her.
For just a second she held on to him very tightly.
