Page 135 of Someone Like You

‘Thanks, sis. I’ll think about it.’

Letting Issy ‘think about’ divorcing Douchebag is allowing her the space to recognise that it’s what she already wants –andneeds. Besides, there is no way my parents are going to let her go back to Jon without her knowing her options. I’m crossing all my digits that she’ll be divorced by her birthday in October.

We’re quiet for a moment, each in our own thoughts, then she nudges me with her knee.

‘Wanna go see what Santa brought us?’ she asks, taking me back to every Christmas in our childhood when Issy would come into my room and wake me up.

‘Fuck yeah.’

Our Christmas stockings, including the latest addition with ‘RAFF’ embroidered on the collar, are stuffed to the gills, something ‘Santa’ would have done after we got home from the wedding and Issy, Raff, and I went to bed.

‘How long do you think Mom and Dad are going to stay up late and play Santa for us?’ asks Issy, her mouth filled with chocolate.

‘Forever. Or at least until we give them grandchildren,’ I reply as I unwrap a candy cane. ‘Then they’ll do it for our kids.’

‘I thought I heard voices.’

Raff enters, sleep-rumpled and wearing PJs with reindeer onthem. I spent several nights in the same bed as him and he wasn’t wearing those.

‘Merry Christmas,’ says Issy. ‘And nice pyjamas.’

He looks down as if he’s surprised by what he’s wearing. ‘Oh my god! Father Christmas must have brought them.’

‘You dork,’ I say.

He meets my eyes with a grin, making my heart flood with warmth. And that’s not the only part of me that heats up, because that crooked smile and those green eyes watching me with an impish expression… they do things to me.

Issy goes to the fireplace and takes down Raff’s stocking. ‘Here,’ she says, holding it out.

He comes further into the room, a look of astonished delight on his face. ‘Oh, I hadn’t expected…’ he says to her. He looks to me and I nod at him encouragingly. ‘Well, how lovely.’

He accepts the stocking with a grin, then brings it over to the sofa, sitting on the opposite end to me.

Right as he’s about to dip his hand inside, he stops. ‘Sorry, should we be waiting for your mum and dad?’ he asks, looking between us.

‘They won’t be up for ages,’ I reply.

‘They always stay up really late,’ Issy adds. ‘It’s their thing – stay up late on Christmas Eve, stuff the stockings, drink brandy…’

‘Now we’re older,’ I say, ‘they do this thing where they reminisce about each Christmas from our childhood, including which big present “Santa” brought us.’

‘Remember the year of the Barbie Dream House?’ asks Issy with a smirk.

‘Ha-ha-ha!’ I turn to Raff. ‘You have never seen two little girls more excited about anything ever in the history of the world. What were we?’ I ask Issy. ‘Five and seven?’

‘Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m pretty sure our squeals were so high, all the dogs in the neighbourhood went berserk.’

‘We were pretty cute,’ I say to Issy.

‘Wait – so they still do that, stay up late on Christmas Eve?’ Raff asks disbelievingly. ‘Even after last night?’

Issy and I share a look.

‘For sure,’ says Issy. ‘Why do you think Dad rounded us up at quarter to eleven? It was his exit strategy. Even if the wedding had gone ahead exactly as planned, I can guarantee he and Mom planned to be back here by eleven, then send us to bed, so they could have their traditional Christmas Eve, just the two of them.’

‘It’s their Christmas Eve date night,’ I add, feeling a surge of love for my parents.

‘Wowser,’ he mutters to himself. ‘My parents barelyspeakto each other. Talk about couple goals.’

---