“Is it hard, not having your parents around at Christmas?”
Alyssa shrugged. “They’re living their best life, travelling the country. I talk to them all the time—video calls, photos of whatever beach or mountain they’re currently exploring. It’s nice, actually. They’re happy.”
“But you never feel like something’s missing?”
Alyssa considered. “Sometimes. But they visit when they can, and I’m genuinely glad they’re out there enjoying themselves. It’s what they love. Besides, I’ve got the dogs. And Lil. And now…” she paused, meeting Evelyn’s eyes, “…new friends who apparently can’t measure butter without a ruler.”
Evelyn was quiet for a long moment. “I thought I had the perfect family,” she said. “Then Mum died. Dad turned into someone I didn’t recognise. I kept trying to fill the hole, but the more I did, the more it grew.”
Alyssa wanted to say something. To fix it. But the words tangled in her throat.
Evelyn smiled, brittle. “Sorry. That’s dark. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”
“You didn’t,” Alyssa said, and meant it. “It’s good to talk about it.”
“Maybe.” Evelyn toyed with a gingerbread star, spinning it on its point. “I’ve never been good at this stuff. Sharing.”
“You’re better at it than you think.”
“Only with you, apparently.”
Alyssa blushed. Bug chose this moment to leap onto her lap, presumably angling for more cookies, but it broke the tension. She scratched his ears and grinned at Evelyn. “He’s not subtle, is he?”
“He knows what he wants,” Evelyn replied, her eyes lingering on Alyssa for a moment longer than necessary. “Is this how you imagined your evening going?”
Alyssa tried not to imagine anything at all, lest she ruin the moment. “I thought there’d be more swearing. You seemed like the sort who’d cuss up a storm when covered in molasses.”
“I’ll save it for the clean-up.”
They fell into comfortable silence, sipping their tea while Bug settled between them, finally content after his cookie heist. The kitchen was warm, the fairy lights Alyssa had strung up last week casting a soft glow over the flour-dusted chaos.
Once the tea was drunk and Bug lay snoring on the couch, they cleaned up together, mostly in silence, passing utensils and plates, moving around each other like they’d done it a hundred times. Every now and then their hands would brush, or one would reach for something at the same moment, but neither pulled away. When they finished, Evelyn leaned back against the counter, folding her arms.
“Do you want to walk?” she asked.
Alyssa glanced out the window. “It’s freezing.”
“I know. But it helps me think.” Evelyn paused, then added with a small smile, “And I’m not quite ready to leave yet.”
At the sound of the word “walk,” Bug’s head shot up from the couch, suddenly very awake. Within seconds he was at the door, leash in his mouth, giving them the hard sell.
“Well,” Alyssa said, laughing. “Looks like we don’t have a choice now.”
The night was sharp and clear, frost curling at the edges of the windows. Alyssa pulled on her jacket and hat, then held the door for Evelyn, who’d managed to look perfectly put together despite her earlier icing-sugar baptism.
They wandered down the lane, Bug trotting ahead, tail up. Alyssa kept her hands jammed in her pockets, partly against thecold and partly to keep from grabbing Evelyn’s. The urge was almost physical.
“So,” Evelyn said, voice soft in the dark. “What are you doing for Christmas day?”
Alyssa shrugged. “Usual. Open the shelter for the volunteers. Give the dogs turkey treats. WatchHome Alonewith Lil.”
“That’s it?”
“Why, what do you do?”
“Order Chinese, argue with my father over the phone, pretend to enjoy every second of it.”
Alyssa laughed. “You could come here, you know. Have turkey with the dogs.”
