Page 83 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
He chuckles. “I’ll take it from there, then. Drone’s a maybe. No promises on the kayak.”
I arch a brow. “You buy him a kayak and you are the one that is taking him every weekend.”
He grins, but there’s a flicker of something behind it, nervous energy, maybe. He shifts in his seat, then says, “Listen. There’s something else.”
I knew there would be.
He doesn’t meet my eyes when he says, “I wanted to talk about Christmas Day.”
I set my phone down slowly. “Okay.”
“I’d like to take SJ to Cornwall,” he says. “To Mum and Dad’s. Like we always used to. They’ve already made plans. Big family thing. And we’ve got tickets for the Boxing Day match in Plymouth, so it’d mean him being away from the 23rd to the 27th.”
My mouth opens.
Closes.
Before I can find words, any words, he lifts a hand gently, like he’s anticipating the protest. “Or… you could come too.”
The words drop into the space between us with all the ease of a brick in a birdbath.
“You want me to come to Cornwall,” I repeat slowly.
Sim-Sim nods, hopeful. “There’s plenty of room at my parents’. You could have one of the guest rooms. It’d just be… nice, you know? For SJ. To have both of us there. Like he is used to.”
His eyes flick up to meet mine, cautious but warm. “And I wouldn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either.”
I see it coming—the shift in his posture, the softening in his voice, the almost inevitableI miss youhanging just behind his eyes.
I panic.
“I’m seeing someone,” I blurt.
It comes out too loud. Too fast. Like a confession and a fire alarm all rolled into one.
Sim-Sim freezes. Not dramatically—just a blink, a pause, a breath that doesn’t quite go anywhere.
“Oh,” he says eventually. No judgement. No anger. Just… surprise.
I glance down at my mug, my fingers suddenly very interested in the shade of my coffee. “It’s new. Casual. But—yeah.”
Silence stretches again, awkward and heavy, like an overstuffed coat you can’t quite shrug off.
“Right,” he says, finally. “Okay.”
I glance up.
He’s trying to smile. It almost works.
“You can still come,” he says after a moment. “Just as SJ’s mum. Nothing else.”
I shrug, not because I don’t care, but because I genuinely don’t know. There’s a weight in my chest I hadn’t noticed until just now. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” he says gently. “Let me know.”
I nod and go to sip my coffee, except it’s already gone lukewarm. I set the mug down instead.
“I’m not seeing anyone, by the way,” he adds casually
