Bailey grins and gives my hand a squeeze. ‘A McAdams family Christmas will do that to you.’
After a brief dinner of toasted sandwiches and leftover soup, we all gather in the lounge for the lighting of the tree. Bailey’s gone off to his room for some reason, and when he walks back into the lounge, I can’t help stifling a laugh. He’s wearing a terrible jumper. It’s the worst one yet—black with multiple strings of red and green Christmas lights and white fluffy piping to look like snow. There are matching squishy red and green baubles sewn on at intervals all over it. He comes over and sits down next to me on the couch.
‘You really have no shame, do you?’ I whisper, flicking one of his baubles.
He shrugs. ‘Not really.’
I pull at it to see how firmly it’s secured, and he holds my hand tightly so I can’t pluck it off.
‘Behave yourself. It’s tree time.’
‘Later then,’ I mutter. ‘Bauble showdown in your room.’
‘It’s a date,’ he whispers in my ear, and a small thrill erupts in the pit of my stomach. He’s not acting anymore, surely? It doesn’t feel fake—on my side anyway. The night is suddenly full of possibilities. Somehow, I don’t think we’ll be needing a cushion barrier if this is headed where I think it is.
The lounge plunges into darkness, causing everyone to go ‘ooooh’, and then the Christmas tree lights are switched on. It’s a white twinkling explosion that hurts my retinas. There are so many lights swathed around the tree that it does a good job of lighting the whole room.
‘Magical,’ says Bailey.
‘It is quite something,’ I reply, staring up at my glowing angel in pride of place at the top.
Allan hands out steaming mugs of mulled wine for the adults (the kids get hot chocolate and marshmallows) along with squares of creamy fudge to nibble on.
I sip my wine and nestle my head against Bailey’s baubled shoulder, feeling sleepy and content. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kirk looking over to us and whispering to his son, Michael. What now? Bailey and I are behaving like a normal couple would, aren’t we? I wish he would just leave us alone.
Shortly after, there’s a movement behind the couch, and I look up to see a bunch of leaves with white berries hanging over my head. My stomach drops into my shoes. Shit. Mistletoe. I could kill Kirk. He’s told Michael to do it to make it as awkward as possible for us.
Bailey looks up too, then at me uncertainly.
‘Go on!’ calls Allan. ‘It’s good luck!’
People are smiling at us. Lord, this is going to happen whether I like it or not. Maybe I can make it funny. I grab Bailey’s cheeks with both hands and give him a noisy juicy smooch on the lips. Everyone laughs.
‘Go, Holly! Girl power!’ says Sarah, raising a fist in salute.
Bailey’s cheeks are fiery red. I think he’s more embarrassed than I am. Michael moves off and hangs the mistletoe over Simon and Kate, who oblige with a tasteful peck on the lips. Oh, that’s probably what we should have done. Cringe.
Bailey is looking down and won’t catch my eye. ‘I think I might turn in. It’s been a long day,’ he murmurs, downing the rest of his wine.
‘Oh, OK. I’ll come too,’ I say.
He shrugs. ‘Stay if you like.’
‘No, I don’t mind,’ I insist.
Why is he acting so weird? He didn’t seem to mind holding hands and carrying on before. Did I take it too far? I mentally kick myself for thinking something more was going on when it’s obviously not.
Crumpet seems happy enough cuddled up with Sarah, so I plaster on a pleasant smile. We say goodnight, and I follow Bailey into the lit hallway. I’m dreading being alone with him now. How embarrassing.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask him.
He nods and gestures for me to go first up the stairs. Halfway up, I feel a tug on the back of my cardie. I look round into Bailey’s face as he’s almost level with me.
‘Sorry for the abrupt exit.’
‘Well, if you were tired ...’
‘I wasn’t tired. I ... just had to leave because of ...’ He nods down at himself.
