“Uh, Lucy, this is sort of awkward, but … oh hell, look, I really have to pee.” He punctuated his admission with a frustrated sigh.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and she felt the flush in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face. She was, at once, both embarrassed and relieved. She’d needed a wee since just after they’d left the airport. Only, how was this going to work?
“Yeah. So, look, we haven’t moved in a while. I’m thinking I’ll head over that way.” He pointed to a stand of trees about thirty feet away. Well, that sorted Will, but what about her? Realisation seemed to dawn across his face. “Oh, you need to go too, right?”
“Yes.” She pressed her palm to her chest, like she always did when she was nervous or embarrassed.
“Okay, how about this? I’ll go over there, and you open your door and the back door, and you go, uh, there—in between. That will give you some privacy.” He looked out of the windscreen and laughed. “Or you could just do what she’s doing.”
Lucy followed his gaze and saw a woman, trousers and pants down, squatting in the snow on the side of the road. A bark of a laugh escaped her, breaking the nervous tension in the car.
She glanced at Will. “Your plan seems better.”
*
Ensconced back in the warmth of the car, rubbing her chilled hands together and blowing on them, Lucy waited for Will. She didn’t want to look towards the trees in case she saw a flash of his bum, or worse yet, a yellow stream arcing into the snow. She needn’t have worried, though, because moments later the driver’s door opened, and Will climbed back into the car.
He fiddled with a dial on the dash and the air from the vents got warmer. “Well, I have to say,” he said, “that was a first for me.”
“What, weeing outside?” Lucy teased.
Will laughed and Lucy was delighted that she’d elicited such a wonderful sound. “Uh, no. Definitely not. I meant peeing outside in daylight in view of dozens of strangers and my sister’s hot friend.”
Lucy felt the sting of another flush. Hot friend. She ignored the scoffing inner voice, the one that still thought of her as an awkward, podgy eleven-year-old, and instead picked up her end of the banter.
“Oh, I didn’t peek.” He flashed her a grin, one eyebrow raised; she’d always wished she could do that. She was fairly certain it was a flirtatious move and emboldened by her own adventure in outdoor weeing, she continued.
“I’ve always thought it was better to wait until Christmas morning to unwrap presents, rather than to peek beforehand.”
Oh, Lucy, that was utterly cringeworthy.
There was a moment before Will answered and Lucy seriously contemplated getting out of the car and walking the rest of the way to the cabin.
“You know,” he began eventually, “this doesn’t happen very often, but I am actually speechless.”
Oh god. He thinks I’m a total slapper. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Horrified speechless or intrigued speechless?”
The car in front of them started moving, but before he put his in drive, Will pinned her with a look. “Oh, definitely the latter.” Then he turned his eyes to the road, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Lucy, relieved not to have made a total fool of herself, looked out her side window. It was so beautiful there, everything blanketed in white, snow hanging heavily on the boughs of the pine trees like nature’s fondant. The thought made her think of her mum’s Christmas cake, which she loved as much for the generous layer of marzipan and fondant, as for the brandy-soaked cake itself.
“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed, startling Will. “Sorry, but I’ve just been thinking about Mum’s Christmas cake, and remembered I’ve got one with me.”
Lucy’s mum had sent her across the pond with her very own Christmas cake—something to share with Jules’s family. It had arrived at her flat in the post the week before, wrapped in foil and tucked snugly into a box surrounded by scrunched up newspaper. It was now packed in her carry-on bag. “We could have some—if you’re hungry, that is.”
“I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but I don’t really like Christmas cake.”
“Sorry, what?” Who didn’t like Christmas cake?
“It’s just too dry and crumbly and it always tastes like it’s been out of date for, like, I dunno, a millennium.”
“Mum’s cake isn’t like that. It’s homemade and it’s wonderful.” Lucy caught the slight edge in her voice and lightened her tone. “Not to worry, more for me.” She just knew he’d think differently if he tried some. She turned in her seat and unzipped her carry-on, rummaging about for the cake.
“I’ve insulted you.”
“No. Honestly, you haven’t.” She pulled out the dense bounty and even though it was tightly wrapped, the smell of spices and sherry started filling the car.
“Well, then I’ve insulted your mom … Hold on, is that it, that smell?”
She sat the cake on her lap and carefully started peeling back the layers of foil. “Uh, yes,” she said nonchalantly. “Look.” The cake sat in its bed of foil, the snowy white fondant perfectly smooth.
Will glanced at the cake, then his gaze went back to the road. They were still crawling along, but at least they were moving. “Well, that does smell amazing. I’ve got a pocketknife in the glove compartment—unless you think we should just tear off chunks with our hands.” The smile was back and Lucy succumbed to one herself.
Minutes later, she placed a generous slab of Christmas cake sitting on top of a Burger King napkin—also from the glove box—onto Will’s thigh. The wedge sat tawny brown and glistening with delicious moistness. “See? Definitely not dry and crumbly.”
She watched him take a bite, then heard his guttural groan. Maybe I’ll get to hear more of that groan later, she thought before rolling her eyes at herself.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
