Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
L evi
It’s the first time I’ve looked forward to Christmas Day since I was a little kid. Even then it wasn’t so great. My mum was even more anxious than normal and my dad even more drunk. It wasn’t fun in juvie and even less so in prison, and since then I’ve spent every Christmas Day alone. But this year I’m warm and I have company—Marina, Mac, and his friend and his brother. I haven’t met either of them before and I’m intrigued to see what sort of person is friends with Mac. From what I know they’ve been friends for a long time, so I imagine he’s long-suffering.
Everything is just about ready. Many years ago, having no use for her dining room, Marina turned it into a craft room, but she was determined that we weren’t going to have Christmas Dinner at the kitchen table, especially not with guests. I had a small warm glow of belonging that I wasn’t considered a guest, but that was evident from the amount of work I’ve put into getting the dining room back to something Marina considers usable. Mostly it’s been packing up boxes and relocating them to different parts of the cottage. That seemed a simple enough task, but with Marina picking up every other item, piece of equipment or craft supply, and exclaiming that she’s forgotten she had it and really must get around to doing something with it, it took a lot longer than it should have.
We unearthed the original dining room table where it was pushed up against a wall. We dragged it into the centre of the room and she even made me polish it, which I thought rather pointless as she then covered it in a red tablecloth and a green runner. She managed to locate enough chairs, most of them mismatched but that adds to the charm. Well, I think so anyway.
And my plan is in place. It’s simple really, and a little bit cheesy, but if it doesn’t work then I can laugh it off as a tradition. But it should work. After all, no one can resist mistletoe at Christmas, can they? It would be rude.
Mac arrives first, which I’m glad for, as I thought they might all arrive together and that would have been more awkward, but now I can get him alone. I open the door and he greets me with a smile, carrying a couple of bags which he deposits in the lounge.
I follow him through to the kitchen where he gives his mum a huge hug. I see her melt into his arms looking like the happiest person alive, and she might be, she’s been planning this day for weeks.
“Can I have a hand in the dining room?” I ask Mac and he joins me.
“What can I help with?” he asks, and I put him to work setting the table. While we lay out the tableware and the cutlery he asks about work.
“I’m working later tonight. Darla says it can get busy on Christmas night, but she’s allowed me the afternoon off to spend some time here.”
“I’m glad she’s given you time off,” he says, and it feels like he means it. Since that day two weeks ago, when he asked for my advice and told us about his brother, he’s been to dinner just one time. It felt easy, now I’ve witnessed a different side of him, and I think he’s seen me for who I am too.
“It looks great,” Mac says, standing back and surveying the table. Every place setting also has wine and water glasses, and there’s a centrepiece made from winter greenery, set with candles we’ll light later. Crackers lie next to every plate. It looks amazing.
“I’ve not had many Christmases like this. Well, none really,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed by the preparations Marina has made. She’d asked me about Christmases when I was a child, and I’d skated over the truth, but what I did tell her painted a bleak picture.
“I’m sorry,” Mac says and I shake my head.
“It’s all in the past now, but your mum is amazing.”
“Yes she is,” he agrees and turns to leave.
It’s now or never.
“Mac,” I call and he spins back around. I give him a little grin and point above his head, at the branch of mistletoe I put up there earlier. His eyes open wide as he spots it.
“It’s tradition,” I say, taking a couple of steps towards him.
“No,” he says bluntly, his face turning dark and stormy—attractive but not at all the response I wanted.
“It would be unlucky not to.” I try to keep my voice light as I see his jaw tighten.
“No Levi,” he grinds out, his face creasing into a deep grimace. This is not how it’s supposed to go.
“It’s just a little kiss,” I protest, not liking how desperate my voice sounds. It should have been a frivolous kiss but now I can’t make light of it. I certainly don’t feel like laughing it off.
“I can’t.” His face twists and my stomach crunches, all hope draining from me.
“Can’t or won’t?” I whisper-shout, my anger rising, but I’m aware Marina is just across the hall.
He takes a deep breath. “Both.”
I snap.
“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with me? Tell me that. What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?” I step right into his face, my arms ramrod straight by my side, fists clenched. Ready to do what, I don’t know, because Mac isn’t angry like every other time I’ve approached him.
Instead his face is bleak, despair in streaks like a windswept icescape.
“Levi.” His voice cracks. “I can’t.”
“You already said that.” My own voice is thick, like talking through treacle as my throat closes over.
He lifts his hands like he’s about to touch me but then pulls them away as if he can’t bear to be that close to me. It hurts, so much more than if he was angry and fought me. I can handle that. I can fight it. I know how to deal with that, but this? It’s like being cut open and having my heart ripped out. I have no defence against it. I’ve had enough. I wanted this day to be special but it’s turning out to be the worst Christmas yet. I drop my head and turn away, not wanting to look at him any more. I wait for him to leave.
“Levi?” His voice is soft which is far worse. I ignore him.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. In fact much the opposite. You’re brave and smart, you work hard, and you look out for the people you care for. You’re so beautiful I can barely believe it, and your tattoos, wow . . .” He trails off, finally admitting he’d seen me that day.
I slowly turn around and look at him. If that’s how he feels, why did he react the way he did?
“But I can’t touch you,” he says slowly.
“Why?”
“Because if I do, I might never let you go.”