Bailey’s warm hand is still resting beside mine. He hasn’t retracted it back through the cushion barrier. All I have to do is reach out and take it. I inch my fingers forward, but I can’t make myself—not after I said I couldn’t.
‘We’d better get some sleep, I guess,’ he says.
He withdraws his hand back through the cushions, and I feel somewhat relieved.
‘If I snore, just throw a cushion at me,’ he says sleepily.
‘If you snore, I’ll whack you with it.’
Bailey chuckles and rolls over. ‘I know you will.’
When I wake to a pale light filtering through the curtains, Bailey isn’t there, and neither is Crumpet. He must’ve taken him down to the kitchen to feed him. I stretch and luxuriate in the feeling of being blessedly alone. Despite everything that happened yesterday and a strange man beside me, I slept pretty well. But I guess Bailey technically isn’t so much of a stranger anymore.
My eyes flick to the corkboard on the wall. Maybe since we’re sharing our troubled pasts, he’ll tell me what happened with that girl—not that I’m dying to know or anything, just curious.
Eventually, I get up and don a fresh pair of jeans and top and my usual black cardigan. My hair refuses to behave itself, and I don’t really want to wash it, so I tie it back again. The tinsel bow is lying on the nightstand, but I leave it there. I’m not a girl who wears tinsel, even if Bailey is trying to coerce me into being one.
I head to the kitchen, thinking Bailey will be there alone, only to discover him sitting at the table, bouncing Charlie on his knee. Across from him, Hazel has a cup of tea in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. Kirk isn’t there, thank goodness. I can do without his astute gaze on me this early in the morning.
Bailey looks up when I walk in and grins. ‘Och, Charlie, it’s a Christmas miracle! She’s never up before nine on a holiday.’
Hazel smiles at me. She’s wearing flowery pyjama bottoms and a chunky orange sweater with a hole in the elbow. ‘Morning, Holly. Help yourself to anything you like.’
‘Morning,’ I reply, surveying the table, which is laid with a big brown teapot, cereal boxes, a jug of milk, and a bowl of fruit. There’s also fresh bread and assorted spreads. My stomach rumbles as I take a seat.
‘Bailey was going to do a fry-up, but he’s being lazy,’ Hazel admonishes.
‘Not my fault. I didn’t get to sleep until late,’ he says and winks at me.
I reach for a cereal box, feeling mightily self-conscious after our ‘chat’ last night. Trust him to make it sound like we ‘slept’ together to keep up the pretence—as if I’d agree tothatin his parents’ house, ugh.
‘Where’s Crumpet?’ I ask, changing the subject before Bailey can spout any more innuendos.
‘I think he’s outside with Sarah and the girls. They went to get some fresh air,’ says Hazel.
Hmm, I’m not sure I like everyone bonding with Crumpet so much. It’s not like they’re ever going to see him again.
Sure enough, they all come bursting into the kitchen five minutes later, along with an elegant slim woman with short dark hair wearing a grey belted coat. Crumpet bounds in behind them, buoyed up by their energy.
‘Look who we found!’ exclaims Sarah, smiling widely and flinging off her mittens. The twins yell ‘Mumma’s here!’ before anyone has a chance to say anything. Ahh, I take it this is Mirabelle.
There’s a flurry of everyone hugging. I get introduced and given two cheek kisses. It turns out she spent the night in Dundee and then set off at six this morning due to the forecast.
‘They were talking about a big dumping around lunchtime, so I didn’t want to get caught. Imagine spending a snowy Christmas in Dundee by myself!’ Mirabelle gives a tinkling laugh, and the others sympathise with what-ifs and ‘How awful!’
Since this is exactly what I’m facing in Inverness, I don’t join in the merriment.
Bailey nudges my shoulder. ‘We should probably get going soon if that’s the case. I don’t want to be too late back as I need to start prepping dinner.’
I rouse from my fog of gloom. ‘Oh, right. Yes. I’ll get my things together.’
Trudging back upstairs with Crumpet and an apple for the road, I leave behind the chatter and warmth of the kitchen. Looks like I’m going to Inverness sooner than expected. I thought I might at least get the morning to relax, but Bailey’s shipping me out. I know it’s not the case—it’s because of the impending snow forecast. But it feels a bit like he’s getting rid of me. I feel irrationally hurt, which is ridiculous. Why would he want me here when all I do is make sarcastic remarks and bring him down with my woeful stories of Christmases past? It’s better I leave now. If we had another night in his bed together, who knows what I’d end up telling him!
Stuffing clothes and toiletries into my bag, I make sure Crumpet has his lead and toys.
‘Time to go, mate.’
If there’s anyone I feel sorry for, it’s Crumpet. He genuinely seemed to enjoy making friends with the McAdams family. Now all he’s got to look forward to is me, a dowdy room with a single-bar heater, and bit of bacon for breakfast (if he’s lucky).
