Switching off the engine,I grab my phone and call Brad from my car. He answers after three rings. “Hey, sweetie, are you almost here?” his deep voice never fails to melt me.
“Hi, I've just pulled up. I'm parked on the road outside the house.”
“You want me to come get you?” I can hear the smile in his voice, and though he may be teasing, he also knows how nervous I get in new situations. And this is about as new as it gets for me.
I startle at the knock on my window and look up to see his huge grin shining at me from the other side of the glass. He opens my door, the cold air rushing in to bite at my cheeks, and takes my hand to help me out of the car. “You can hang up the phone now, you know.”
I still don't know how I got so lucky to even get Brad's attention in the first place. He's so handsome and sweet and kind and funny, he could have his pick of anyone – man orwoman – and for some reason he chose me. I'm eternally grateful that he did, but sometimes I struggle to believe it's real. We couldn't be more different. I'm an introverted, shy, anxious mess at least eighty percent of the time.
Pulling me to my feet, he wraps his arms around my back and leans down for a kiss. When our lips touch, the world fades away. The frigidness of this wet December day is forgotten, and my insides warm. He breaks the kiss to murmur, “Merry Christmas, sweetie,” against my lips.
“And happy Boxing Day, Brad,” I stare into his captivating eyes until he pulls away fully to guide me up to his parents' house. There are icicle lights hanging from the gutters, an inflatable snowman hums just outside the porch, and a stunning pink wreath hangs on the door. I can just make out a mini Christmas tree in the porch window, too.
As we step through the door, I realise it's not a storm porch at all, but essentially a boot room with bench seating, shoe storage and coat hooks. The wall above the hooks is covered in family photos, and I make a note to study them later. There's another smaller wreath on the main door into the house, and as it opens the smell of Christmas washes over me; cinnamon, apple, and cloves, pine, mulled wine, and gingerbread. The warmth in my chest expands.
The first person I see is Shari. She looks gorgeous in a red velvet dress and Santa hat, her long dark hair cascading down her back in luscious waves that I could never recreate with my own limp locks. She's swaying to the music with Lizzie in her arms and – I’m assuming – Brad's father and sister circling them with joined hands. Her dog is jumping up and down around them, trying to get in on the dance circle. Lizzie's laughter floats over to us, and I can't hold back my smile. She looks cute as a button in a reindeer onesie, complete with flashing red nose on the hood.
I'm suddenly aware of a stern-looking woman stood to my left, and I jump a little when I notice her, making her lips twitch. “Larissa, I'm so glad you could join us for our Boxing Day tradition! I'm Grace, Brad's mother, since he hasn't deigned to introduce us,” she announces with a roll of her eyes, and leans in for a brief hug. “Philip, come meet Brad's girlfriend!” she shouts, never taking her eyes off me. She kind of reminds me of Zoe Wannamaker.
Everyone turns to look at me then, and my anxiety spikes once more. Shari must see it on my face because her expression softens, and she strolls over, “Merry Boxing Day, Larissa. You look lovely!” She gives me a one-armed hug since Lizzie is still perched on her other hip. “Look, little Rudolph, it's Wissa!”
Much to my joy and relief, Lizzie's face lights up as she shouts, “Wissa!” and throws her arms around my neck as much as she can from her position.
“Merry Christmas, Lizzie the red-nosed reindeer!” her giggle warms me once more as she proceeds to tell me all about the flashing nose on her hood. Or I think she does, I can only understand a handful of the words she says.
I'm introduced to Phil and Hettie, and am quickly equipped with a Bailey's hot chocolate.Delicious.
“Is there anything I can do to help, Mrs Quinlan?” I ask as Brad is about to drag me out of the kitchen.
“Oh nonsense, dear, it's Grace. Are you any good at making gravy?” she quirks an eyebrow as she bustles around the space.
“Mum, Larissa is our guest, she shouldn't have to?—”
“Brad, sweetheart, I just want to get to know your girlfriend a little without all the...noise. So, gravy?”
“Um, from scratch?”
“No, dear, from Bisto,” a sly grin slides across her lips.
I flick my eyes to Brad because I can't tell if she's teasing me or if she's being serious. He shakes his head with a smile and kisses my temple, whispering, “Good luck.”
“Shoo, Brad. Shoo!” Grace ushers him out the door, flapping her tea towel in his direction. “Honestly, that boy never did listen to me.” Walking back over to where I hover awkwardly by the sink, she places two gravy boats and a measuring jug on the worktop. “Kettle is behind you, and here's the Bisto. Make it quite thick, though, we don't like runny gravy in this family. I think if Philip could get away with slicing it, he would!”
I start spooning the granules into the jug whilst the kettle boils and pray she's going to go easy on me.
“So! Larissa. You and Brad have been dating for a little while now.”
It's not a question, but it feels like it needs an answer. “Yes?” I squeak. “I mean, yes. It's been around four months?”
“And it's going well? Lizzie seems to like you well enough.”
“Oh! Yes, well, I hope she does. We've only met twice before today, but she's such a little delight, it's impossible not to love her.”
Grace's features soften in response and it makes her feel more approachable. My shoulders relax a touch. “She's the best. And she looks so much like Brad did at that age!”
“I can imagine, they have the same grin, it's adorable.”
“And Shari?”
