“Because that’s the kind of guy you are.”
Something warm spreads through me, and it has nothing to do with the hot cocoa.
There arethree ugly Christmas jumpers in my closet, and Callie chooses the green one with red sleeves and a giant reindeer on the front. It’s a particular favorite of mine since actual bells hang from many of its antlers. I’ll hear her coming all night. It’s too big on her, baggy around her arms and hanging over her leggings. Something about seeing her in my jumper sets off a primal response in me, though. I like it far too much.
Which is saying something after she spit the Irn Bru out once it hit her tongue. I was actually mopping orange fizzy juice off my floor for this woman during lunch today.
Her short hair has been curled, and she’s walking around in a cloud of something heavenly, so I think she decided to use perfume. I don’t know what it smells like. I’m a man. But if I had to describe it, I would say she smells like sunshine over a snowy glen or a good snog on a comfortable sofa. I could go for either one of those right now.
Rory was right about the roads. I shoveled a path out of my driveway earlier in the afternoon, so we make it to Katie’s little cottage tucked at the end of the High Street without incident. Music bleeds to the street before we reach the house, and I already regret agreeing to bring Callie. This group isn’t the typical mix she’s likely expecting.
What can I say? The range among my friends, in age and in personality, is extensive.
Callie draws in a quiet gasp when we walk up to the door. “This place is incredible.”
I try to see the cottage through a stranger’s eye. The rough gray stone is set back from the road a bit with a small garden in front. Square windows with bright blue shutters frame the front door, and smoke curls from the chimney. Light glows through the glass and onto the snow in front of the house. I have to admit, it’s idyllic. Did she have a similar reaction when she saw my house?
Was it really only days ago I brought Callie here from Inverness? It feels like so much longer. It’s incredible how spending so much time together can change the way time passes.
I don’t bother knocking. The music is too loud anyway, so I push the door open and find Patty waiting on the other side. The room is fairly full already. It looks like we’re the last to arrive. My grandparents are tucked against the back wall, which means my parents are here somewhere, but I don’t see them. Katie’s house is small, so people are milling about the living room and kitchen, chatting and holding glasses or small plates. Warm cinnamon and apples permeate the air, and the room is litby the Christmas tree and other strung fairy lights, giving it a dim, cozy glow.
“Hiya,” I say, reaching to give Patty a hug.
Patty looks over my Harry Christmas jumper with a large image of Harry Styles wearing a Santa hat. “Odd choice.”
“Callie took my favorite one.”
“It’s cozier,” she defends, pressing her shoulder into mine.
Patty lights up when she notices Callie beside me. “You look better in it anyway.”
“Let’s see yours,” Callie says, leaning back to admire Patty’s homemade situation. Tinsel is wrapped around her with lights sewn into various places. Thankfully they don’t have a power source. “That’s lit.”
I smile at her cheesy grin.
“I wish it could,” Patty says. “Douglas believed it was a fire hazard and refused to help me fashion a working mechanism.”
Callie nods. “Probably a wise idea.”
“Boring, more like.”
Katie catches my eye from the kitchen and empties her glass before setting it down. Her dark curls have extra volume tonight, bouncing as she weaves her way toward us, then throws her arms out. “You made it! And you brought Callie!”
Well, someone’s already had too much to drink.
“Thanks for letting me come.” Callie lifts her plate of brownies. “We brought chocolate.”
“Lovely!” Katie says with too much enthusiasm for the plate of basic brownies Callie shows her. “Let me put that in the kitchen. Come with me. I want you to meeteveryone.”
“I can show her around, Katie,” I say. “You need to be the hostess.”
She blows a raspberry at me. “Give me a turn. You’ve had her for days already. We don’t get shiny new toys around here often.”
She’s right about that.
Callie shoots me a look I struggle to interpret. Is she wondering if Katie’s okay? Why we’re fighting over her like siblings and she’s the last scone? Katie might have eight years on me, but she feels more like a younger sister than anything else.
As far as whether she’s alright, I don’t know the answer. The holidays have always been hard for her, but they’re hard on a lot of people. It’s why we get together and do our best to be there for each other. This is one of those nights Katie needs to be surrounded by supportive people. So here we are.
