Page 2 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“What about you?” he asked. “Celebrating? Waiting for a friend?”
Her smile flattened.
“Unlike you, there is no ambiguity in my emotions; I am comprehensively commiserating.”
“Oh, that sucks. Is it insensitive to ask what happened? You can tell me to mind my own business, I’m drunk enough not to mind.”
He looked sincere. Sincerely hot. Was she really going to spill her guts to a stranger with come-hither eyebrows? Yes.
“My seventeen-year-old daughter has been on a school exchange trip for the last three weeks. Cooperstown, in upstate New York. She was due back next week; I was going to decorate the flat ready for Christmas for when she got back home.”
“That’s sweet,” said the man.
“Yeah. Except I got a phone call this evening saying the family have invited her to stay for Christmas.”
“Ouch.”
“Ahhgghh!” She threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m happy for her, of course I am, what a wonderful experience, and she’s so excited…”
“But?”
Her sensible head told her that she was sharing far too much with this handsome stranger, but her wine head was yelling,Just tell him already, what have you got to lose?Her wine head won.
“But. This is the longest time we’ve ever been apart. Next autumn she’ll be off to university and…I guess I was just trying to soak her up before she goes, you know?”
Good-hair man gave a noncommittal nod. He obviously didn’t have children.
“This last three weeks has been a snapshot of what my empty nest is going to look like, and I’ve got to be honest, I don’t like it one little bit. Who even am I without her to look after? What’s the point of me?” she shouted, sloshing hot wine down her cleavage. She mopped her boobs with a bar towel and lowered her voice. “It’ll be our first Christmas apart. But I want her to do it, she’s going to have an amazing time, and I’m so proud of her. Sooooo, I guess I’m commiserbrating too. Sorry—hic—that was a lot. More wine?”
He continued to watch her, his face close to hers, his eyes oh so sincere, like he was really listening.
“Does she know how you feel?” he asked.
Harriet laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous! She doesn’t need to know. I’m not going to guilt my daughter into spending the holidays with me. She was still unsure about whether to accept the invitation, but I know it was only because she was worried about me, bless her. She’s a good girl. I told her she absolutely had to stay; I wouldn’t hear another word about her coming home.”
“That’s very selfless.”
“That’s being a parent.”
He flinched infinitesimally, but it passed almost before Harriet had registered it, and she had neither the presence of mind nor the will to chase it up. She didn’t know him; it wasn’t her job to wonder. Two more mugs of hot spicy wine arrived, and she blew on hers before taking a sip, Christmas dancing on her tongue.
“It’s all about consumerism these days, anyway, isn’t it? You’re probably better off out of it,” he said plainly.
“No!” Harriet was aghast. “I love Christmas. I am Christmas’s biggest fan. I love everything about it. People are so much kinder at Christmas, have you ever noticed that? For the month of December even the most hardened bum-barnacle can find a little charity in his heart. I love doing all the Christmassy stuff and making it magical for my daughter and my family; I am the Christmas fricking queen! Or at least I was. Now I’m…”
“Dethroned?” he added helpfully.
“Surplus to requirements,” she sighed. “Christmas feels like a demonic candy cane poking me relentlessly in the ribs.”
“So you convinced your daughter to leave you alone at Christmas and then came to a pub that’s decorated like Father Christmas’s grotto, hosting Christmas karaoke and serving the most Christmassy of all the alcoholic beverages.” There was that eyebrow again, being all sarcastically sexy and suggestive.
“Yes, I did,” she deadpanned.
“Isn’t that rubbing salt into the wound?”
“I am vaccinating myself against the holidays. Building my resistance. By December the twenty-fifth I will be completely immune.”
He looked dubious about her logic, but he nodded sagely.
