Page 82 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
Callum shrugs. “Then go with it. Don’t overthink it. You’ll know soon enough if it’s something worth holding onto.”
I nod, but a tiny knot still sits in my chest. Because I already know it is worth everything. The only question now is whether she feels the same.
I swirl what’s left of my pint. “What are you doing for Christmas, then?”
Callum perks up slightly. “Lake District. Taking Stella up for a few days. She’s got this romantic thing about snowy hills and roaring fires and overpriced shepherd’s pie.”
“Very civilised.”
“It will be if we don’t argue over whose turn it is to control the heating.” He grins. “We’re back on Boxing Day though. Stella’s daughter is coming over with her boyfriend.”
“I can’t believe you’re basically stepdad to someone who’s what, fifteen years younger than you?” I say, half-laughing.
Callum shrugs, like it's not the first time he’s heard it. “I’m not her stepdad,” he says, then adds with a small smile, “... yet.”
“Oh, have you set a date?” When Callum got down on one knee at Halloween, it caught everyone off guard. After all, they hadn’t been together very long.
“No, but we’re looking at a few venues up there.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We want to give ourselves a bit of time. I know the engagement was quick, but venues book up early, so there’s no harm in reserving one for about a year from now.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “And here I thought I was the one moving fast.”
“You are,” he says, smiling. “But I should thank you because your chaos makes mine look positively textbook.”
I raise my glass. “To the women that make us do things we thought we’d never do.”
He clinks his against mine, then says, “Exactly. To chaos?”
Chapter twenty-two
I’ll Be in Cornwall for Christmas… Maybe
Miranda
The bell above the door gives its usual polite jingle as I step into the village coffee shop, the blast of warmth and the smell of cinnamon sugar hitting me square in the face. For a moment, it’s almost comforting. Almost.
Then I spot him.
Sim-Sim is already at a corner table by the window, two mugs steaming gently in front of him. He sees me and smiles, and for a fleeting second, his face softens in that way it always used to back when we started dating—like the world could tilt off its axis and he’d still be there, steady, looking at me like I hung the bloody moon.
It knocks me slightly off balance.
I tighten my grip on the strap of my handbag and walk over, pretending I don’t noticethelook. The one that saysI miss this. I miss you.
“Hi,” I say, sliding into the seat opposite.
He gestures to the mug in front of me. “Flat white. Still how you take it?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
There’s a small pause. Not awkward, exactly, just filled with all the things neither of us is ready to say.
So I cut through it. Businesslike. Friendly. Firm.
“I thought we could use this time to talk about what we’re getting SJ for Christmas.”
Sim-Sim nods, wrapping his hands around the mug like it might steady something inside him. “Just tell me what you’re not getting from his list,” he says lightly. “I’ll cover the rest.”
“Right,” I say, flipping open the notes app on my phone. “So far, I’ve bought the Minecraft Lego, the Horrible Histories annual, and the astronaut pyjamas. I vetoed the drone, the Lego Death Star, and the inflatable kayak. Oh, and I am also getting him a skateboard.”
