Page 50 of The Christmas Express
‘Definitely, I’m looking forward to it, to be honest. The Rockies.’
‘It’s going to be a pretty cool way to start Christmas Day,’ I say, and we each reach for some more of the decorations and set about creating our silly little accessories. The deeper stuff is still chugging underneath me, much like my own personal inner-train, but it makes my feet sweat to think about getting too intense right now, tonight, on a night that once upon a time felt like it was our special night.
‘How’s your family?’ I ask him, always having liked his parents, and his trio of sisters.
‘Good. Mel’s just had a baby.’
‘Another one?’
He smiles at that, like he’s surprised I remembered. ‘Yep, that makes two nephews now.’
‘Congrats.’
‘And your parents? What are they doing over Christmas?’
I tell him about them being away in New Zealand with my brother, about how I went there myself in the summertime. He talks about a holiday he took to Australia for a month the year before. I avoid any topic that might bring things around to this made-up bloody boyfriend of mine, and Luke seems to be skirting around that issue too, or maybe I’m just deluding myself that he even cares.
In too short a time we’re finished with our tinsel accessories. We made six, out of habit I guess, and I lay them out in front of us on his bed in a row. ‘Should we . . . shall we all take a look around Jasper together? What do you think?’
‘I don’t know . . .’
‘We need to be on good, well, civil at least, terms for Bryn’s wedding. It’s her big day. And we arrive early Boxing Day.’
‘And we need to give out these beautiful creations,’ Luke adds, straightening the row, drawing my eyes to his fingers.
‘Exactly. We should ask if Ember wants to come, too. It might be our last chance to talk her out of everything.’
Luke nods. ‘And we could give her one of the accessories.’
That lights me up like a little Christmas candle, that he wants to include her like that. Honestly, even though she and I have managed to have a few laughs, she still seems kind of pissed off at us, as a group, which I can only assume is because we lost touch with her. And gave her an ultimatum. But perhaps if we just keep her close, show her some love, she’ll start to listen and take in our concerns, and then slip away and leave Bryn to live her happy ever after.
‘What if Bryn is giving Ember signs, though?’ I say to Luke.
He leans in towards me. ‘I wondered the same thing. Ember seems convinced this is the wedding the two of them planned, even if it was only theoretical. Maybe Bryn is trying to catch her attention.’
‘That doesn’t seem very Bryn though. She was always kind of straightforward and direct.’
‘Cold feet?’ Luke asks.
‘A little,’ I say, and lift his bed cover to tuck my feet inside, and am just getting cosy when I realise what he meant. ‘You were talking about Bryn. Getting cold feet.’ A giggle pops out.
Luke laughs in return, his face softening, his eyes crinkling. I want to capture this moment, protect this little flame, because this is real, this ease between us, this laughter. I blink, just in case I suddenly have the ability to stop time, but no such luck, and as our chuckling diminishes, I hold onto my smile as long as I can.
Removing my feet from his bed, I stand up, collecting the tinsel accessories in my hands carefully, but bumping his book off the bedside table and onto the floor as I go.
‘Oops, sorry,’ I say, crouching down, just as he does the same.
A stone on the tracks, or maybe a little helping hand from the stars, bumps me off balance and I tip closer to Luke. He catches me, his hand gripping my upper arm and almost immediately loosening once I’m steady. But he doesn’t move it. Even under my thermal sweatshirt I feel his palm open up, his fingers spreading, trailing slowly, like he’s trying to cover as much area as he can without crossing any of these boundaries that haven’t been broken down between us. Yet.
Luke’s hand slides a centimetre further around the back of my arm. Is he pulling me into him? I’m frozen on the spot; I don’t know what to do.
But I know what I want to do.
His fingertips touch my back and I lick the dryness from my lips. But then he stops, and his hand ebbs back, like he’s remembered himself, and he leaves my skin to tingle without him. He picks up his book and slides his bookmark back into place.
I clear the butterflies that have lodged in my throat and check the cover. ‘A Christmas murder mystery.’
He shrugs one shoulder, and smiles down at the book. ‘As usual.’
