‘Let me get you a t-shirt while I wash this.’ She turns on her heels, heading in the direction of her bedroom.
‘I doubt you’ve got one that fits me,’ I call after her.
‘You’d be surprised.’ She returns a minute later wearing a red scoop-neck vest and Lycra flesh-coloured leggings that sculpt her ass into a perfect peach. Oh, this is definitely foreplay, but it was me who was meant to be teasing her.
She throws me a red t-shirt. ‘What’s this? His n hers?’ I motion at her red top. ‘And please tell me this didn't belong to your ex.’
‘It did not. I bought it for you at the Santa Fun Run last weekend. I was saving it for Christmas but …’ She shrugs, and there’s a distinct hint of mischief in her tone.
I unfold the cheap cotton material and snort at the image of a cartoon Santa crossing a race finish line, with the slogan ‘The Big Man Always Comes First’ plastered across the front.
‘Hilarious, but not exactly accurate, in any shape or form.’ I tug it over my head and spread my arms. ‘What do you think?’
A blush flushes her porcelain cheeks as she reaches for the bottle of champagne she left on the counter. ‘I think you bombing around my lounge in what looks like Christmas pyjamas makes this place look more homely and warm than any Christmas tree ever could.’
I assemble the tree in front of the window while Ava pours bubbly and lights the electric fire. Michael Bublé’s velvety voice fills the air and I glance round to see Ava smiling into her glass. She looks like I feel, content, happy, peaceful.
We sip our champagne, while hanging the baubles, none of which are pink, by the way.
‘So do you always go to your parents’ on Christmas Day?’ I stand back, looking for any bare branches we might have missed.
‘Pretty much. Apart from last year when we had to hide out at Huxley.’ Ava tucks a thick line of tinsel around the tree, biting her lips as she concentrates. ‘What about you? What do you and Phoebe do?’
‘We spend Christmas Eve at home in Sandymount. Santa always comes to our house. I usually make Phoebe chocolate pancakes for breakfast and let her play with her toys. Then we usually go to my mother’s where we have an Instagram-worthy Christmas, as long as we all pretend we don’t notice my father leering over my mother’s youngest sister.’
‘Oh.’ Ava picks up her champagne flute from the coffee table. Is she wondering what I’m wondering? If we’ll see each other on Christmas Day?
I’d like to see her, but my day isn't flexible, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn't come to my parents’ house. And now I’ve gotten to know hers, I wouldn't blame her.
I step back from the tree and turn to Ava. ‘Do you like chocolate pancakes, Ava?’
The question has nothing to do with chocolate pancakes really, and from the sparkle in her eyes she knows it as well as I do.
‘I love chocolate pancakes.’ She sucks in her lower lip almost shyly.
‘Then maybe you’ll join us for breakfast?’
‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to drop off your gifts anyway.’ She shrugs nonchalantly, but we both know there’s nothing meaningless about making plans together for Christmas Day. It's the most family orientated day of the year and choosing to spend it together is a huge statement, no matter how slow we’re supposed to be taking things.
I pinch my t-shirt between my index finger and thumb. ‘You mean this isn't my Christmas gift?
She rolls her eyes. ‘Duh, there’s a matching jumper to go with it too.’
‘We’ll see how smart your mouth is in a minute, lady.’ I nod towards her coffee table where the final touch of her tree waits.
She sets her glass down and picks up the gold-plated star. The air hums between us, both aware that once this tree is done, the real fun begins. ‘You’ll have to do it. I can’t reach.’
In one swift movement I place my head between her legs and hoist her up onto my shoulders while she shrieks out every curse known to man.
‘Stop wriggling woman and put the damn star on the top of the tree.’ Pinning her thighs with my hands, I reach up on my tiptoes and wait as she places the star on the highest point.
‘Ta-da.’ Ava’s jazz hands have nothing on what my hands are about to do to her.
‘Finally! Now it’s time to make you wriggle for all the right reasons.’
I wanted her to have some warmth, but while I’m here, I’m going to make sure she’s on fire.
ChapterThirty-Three
