Page 58 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
I could say something. Ask her what she’d meant. What she would’ve said, if Lucy hadn’t interrupted.
But I don’t.
And she doesn’t either.
We just keep moving—drying, folding, putting things back where they belong.
But there’s an elephant in the room. Sitting there, right between us. Massive. Pink. Wearing a name badge that reads"So, About That Offer…"
And we’re both pretending it isn’t there.
For now.
Chapter fourteen
O Come, All Ye Best Friends
Miranda
Dinner is noisy. Not the stressful kind, just the kind where cutlery clinks and the kids talk over each other and you realise, halfway through your meal, that your wine’s gone and you have no memory of drinking it.
SJ points an accusing fork at Jasper. “You know Arsenal beat Chelsea this year, right?”
Jasper gives him a long-suffering look. “One match doesn’t undo an entire legacy.”
“Oh, come on,” SJ says, clearly delighted. “Chelsea haven’t won anything properly in ages.”
“We won the Champions League in 2021.”
“Yeah,” SJ says with an exaggerated eye-roll, “before I could do long division. Doesn’t count.”
Across the table, Lucy’s nodding along like she’s following every word. She’s not.
“I like the blue shirts,” she offers helpfully. “And the shouting. Daddy always shouts at the telly when the blue ones are on.”
“Same,” Jasper mutters.
“There is very little shouting with Arsenal,” SJ adds, grinning. “Just saying.”
I snort because I know for sure that he and Sim-Sim have been shouting plenty this season because Arsenal is way behind. Then I turn to Lucy, seizing the lull. “What about you, Lucy? What do you like?”
“I like princesses,” Lucy declares. “And glitter. And cutting paper into crowns. And my gnome… the one Ivy made. And jelly.”
I give her a respectful nod. “Strong choices.”
“I’m going to be a princess vet,” she continues matter-of-factly. “I’ll live in a pink castle and look after unicorns. And sometimes hedgehogs if they’re poorly.”
“Obviously,” I say. “Very inclusive.”
“And Uncle Geoff is the queen,” she adds, like that’s a standard item on the royal staffing list.
I pause mid-sip. “Sorry. The queen?”
Lucy nods with great enthusiasm. “He wears the dress, crown, and the wings. He always does when we have afternoon tea.”
Across the table, Jasper lets out a short bark of laughter.
“Oh, he absolutely does,” he says, grinning. “It started with a tea towel and has escalated into full-blown theatre.”
