Brody adds, “Nice.”
“That’s it, I’m calling Liam back,” Mila exclaims.
“No!” Wren and Indie say in unison.
“Who is Liam?” I ask. I’m sure I’ve heard his name come up.
Mila is the one to reply. “He’s my ex.”
“And you want to call him because…?”
“He’s nice.”
“Really, Mila? He’s nice, sure, but you’re awesome.”
Mila beams. “I don’t want to be alone at Christmas. You guys are sickening, and I want that.”
“You won’t get that from your ex,” Indie says before she frowns. Technically, I have been her ex. “Just… trust us when we tell you there is someone better out there for you.”
“Where is he?”
Wren and Indie look at each other, like they know something the rest of us don’t.
“He’s not in LA,” I tell her. “You’d get bored of Ethan.”
“You have other friends.”
“I do.”
She points at me. “And you haven’t introduced me because…?”
“They’re in America.”
“Indie, I’m so coming with you next time.”
We finish the class and take our pitiful wreaths home. The girls have made decent ones, but mine is shit.
I have no desire to take a second one.
“Where now?” Indie asks as we step outside.
“Bye, Spencer!” two women on the next table cry out. They took quite a few photos when I first arrived.
“See you later,” I reply with a wide smile.
I turn back just in time to see Indie roll her eyes and grin.
“Really?” I ask, pulling her into my arms.
She presses her chest to mine. “It’s weird.”
“Can we go home? I think I need a shower.” Running my hands up and down her arms, I add, “I’ve been hard since you mentioned switching places.”
“I can tell.” She can feel it because she’s pressed up against me.
“Maybe we should do something about that,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “I can’t wait to taste you, Spence.”
My nostrils flare. “Let’s go.”
If people weren’t around, I would have chucked her over my shoulder and run back to my car.
Once home, we start to strip each other halfway up the stairs.
Forty-One
Indie
This is the first Christmas Eve I’ve actually looked forward to since I was a little kid.
I let us into the house, out of the bitter cold. Mum looks around with her mouth open wide. I’ve worked hard in the few free afternoons I’ve had to add the finishing touches and arrange the furniture after every room was painted.
I was desperate to get it done before Mum came home.
The house looks modern with new wooden floors, pale greens and light greys on the walls, a refreshed kitchen, and not to mention the new tables and sofas. I have put all of our old photos back on the walls in new white frames.
Mum and I will have to add some new pictures.
“Indie, this is beautiful. It looks like a new house! And you’ve decorated for Christmas.”
“I put the new tree and decorations up last night. There’s a little one in the kitchen, too.”
“It’s amazing,” she says, peeking into the living room. “So different.”
I still haven’t spent much time in there. Only to decorate. The room might not look the same but it’s still where Dad died. I have years of bad memories and they’re not going away anytime soon. I hope that as Mum and I spend time here, new memories will overshadow the old ones.
Still, I’m grateful when she moves to the kitchen. All I’ve done in here is paint the cupboards cream, add a new backsplash, and refresh the paintwork on the walls.
“I love this. It’s the perfect new start for us both.”
God, I hope so.
She walks back into the living room.
No time like the present to get used to it, I guess.
I follow her and watch as she takes a small box out of her bag. It’s wrapped in red and gold paper with a little bow on the top. She places it under the tree besides the two gifts I already have for her there.
The ones I have for Spencer, his parents, Wren, and Mila are under a little tree in my bedroom. I don’t know why I want to keep them separate, but I do. The two halves of my life don’t fit together yet.
This morning, I woke up at Spencer’s and had breakfast with his family. We helped Jodie decorate a traditional Christmas cake, and then I left after lunch to pick Mum up.
I could see the question in his eyes as I told him I had to go home. Can I come, too, and meet your parents?
When Mum is settled at home, I’ll deal with it.
They will have to meet. Mum has already asked when will I bring him over. We both agreed that it’s best to sort that once she’s further along in her recovery.
I’m still trying to figure out how much I want to tell him.
“Okay,” I say, turning on the TV. “You choose a Christmas movie, and I’ll make the hot chocolate.”
“Do you have squirty cream and marshmallows?”
“Of course, I do.”
A favourite of my limited good memories is drinking hot chocolate and watching a movie with my parents on Christmas Eve.
Mum picks Santa Clause: The Movie, and we sit down on the new sofas. No part of this room looks the way it did before. My pulse is skittish but it’s not unbearable. I can’t see Dad on the new furniture.
“This has to be one of the best Christmas movies,” Mum says.
“Didn’t Dad hate this one?”
“He said it was boring.” She takes a deep breath. “What did he know?”
“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing sideways.
She takes a long breath. “I’m happy and sad. It makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me. Missing Dad is awful, but knowing I still have you makes everything easier.”
“Yesterday, I wanted a drink,” she admits, still staring at the TV. “If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about it a lot.”
I swallow and place my hot chocolate on the coffee table. “Isn’t that normal?”
Wanting what you’re addicted to doesn’t sound unusual to
