Chapter 26 Merry Feelings, Everyone
Chapter twenty-six
Merry Feelings, Everyone
Jasper
Theo’s coffeehouse smells like cake and hot chocolate.
He glides over with a plate of something flaky and delicious, sets it in front of me like he’s presenting an offering, and says, “Eat. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal since Tuesday.”
“I’ve had toast,” I say.
Geoff, already halfway through what might be his third piece of Gugelhupf, snorts. “Toast doesn’t count. That’s just warm bread with the consistency of cardboard.”
I ignore both of them and stir my coffee. We’re along the counter as usual. These bar stools are really only used by us.
“You’re brooding,” Theo observes. “Which means either a woman or the Christmas season is upsetting you.”
“Could be both.”
He sighs. “Right. Well, before you drag the atmosphere any further down, I’d like to share something truly harrowing.”
Geoff perks up. “Does this involve blood or public humiliation?”
“Close,” Theo says. “Lucy’s nativity play.”
I raise an eyebrow. “She’s five.”
“Exactly,” he says darkly, as if that explains everything. “Five-year-olds in costume. Nothing but glitter glue and chaos. And somehow, I’m the villain for laughing.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Well. For starters, the sheep wouldn’t stay in their positions. The innkeeper refused to give up his plastic chicken. And the kid playing the camel farted on the baby Jesus backstage.”
“Strong start,” Geoff mutters.
“But Lucy,” Theo continues, pointing a finger like he’s delivering a courtroom reveal, “Lucy decided to take control. Because apparently, ‘Gabriel’s not doing it properly.’”
“Wait—wasn’t Lucy a snowflake?” I ask.
“She was meant to be a snowflake,” Theo says. “But she came out wearing the wings from her fairy costume and announced—and I quote—‘I am now Angel Queen Lucy, and I know the story better.’”
I choke on my coffee.
“She then proceeded to narrate the entire nativity from memory. With added commentary.”
Geoff’s crying with laughter. “Please tell me this is on video.”
“It is. But I’ve been warned not to share it unless Lucy is present because she wants to see people’s reactions to her excellent performance.”
“What did the teachers do?” I ask.
“Nothing. They froze. The headteacher was trying not to laugh. One of the shepherds was picking his nose aggressively throughout the entire performance and Mary dropped the doll when someone shouted ‘SNACK TIME’ from the back.”
“Was the baby okay?” Geoff asks.
“Decapitated. Twice.”
I rest my head on my hand, smiling. “And Lucy?”
“Proud as anything. Took a bow and demanded ice cream as a reward.”
Geoff wipes his eyes. “I just love her.”
Theo shrugs. “All I know is, next year I’m bringing a hip flask and low expectations.”
I laugh quietly, and it feels good. Properly good. The kind of laugh you don’t have to think about.
For a few minutes, I let the noise of the café settle around me. The hiss of the milk steamer. The clink of cutlery. The hum of people who aren’t worrying about whether someone else's ex still has a foothold in the present.
Theo tops up my coffee without asking. Geoff leans back like he’s just completed a triathlon and is ready to collapse from exhaustion.
“So,” I say, before they can ask why I’ve been unusually quiet, “I’ve been seeing someone.”
Theo freezes mid-sip. Geoff squints at me like I’ve just announced I’ve taken up interpretive dance.
“Define seeing,” Geoff says.
“I’m dating someone,” I clarify.
Theo sets his cup down very slowly, like he's worried sudden movement will scare me off. “You’re dating. As in, willingly. With a human woman?”
“Yes.”
“Not an alien or some high-concept ghost?”
“Still yes.”
Geoff grins. “This is excellent. Who is she?”
“Her name’s Miranda.”
There’s a brief silence, broken only by the clink of Geoff stealing another forkful of my pastry.
“She rents the annexe,” I add.
Theo’s eyebrows rise. “Your annexe?”
“Attached to my house, yes.”
“Wow,” Geoff says. “So not only are you dating, you’ve literally brought the relationship within stumbling distance.”
“It’s not like that,” I say.
“Sure it isn’t,” Theo murmurs, sipping his coffee with the expression of a man who’s heard denial before and isn’t buying it today.
They wait. The silence is expectant, filled with the crunch of pastry and the sound of someone behind the counter frothing milk.
“She’s divorced,” I add eventually. “Has an eight-year-old son. SJ.”
Geoff’s eyebrows shoot up. “A child, too? Blimey. Straight in the deep end.”
Theo watches me carefully. “And how’s that going?”
I nod, a little too quickly. “Fine. Good. He’s great.”
But I know what I look like. Theo’s reading me like a book. Geoff, slightly slower on the uptake, glances between us and narrows his eyes.
“You’ve got a face,” he says.
“I always have a face.”
“No, you’ve got that face. The one that means something’s bothering you and you’re pretending it’s not.”
Theo leans in, voice low. “You alright?”
I exhale through my nose and stare into my cup like it’s going to offer wisdom.
“It’s just...” I pause. “Her ex showed up. SJ’s dad. Sim-Sim.”
Geoff immediately sits up. “Sorry, his name is what now?”
“Not the point,” I mutter.
Theo leans back. “Ah. That look on your face.”
“Jealousy,” Geoff says. “Classic. Bit retro.”
I don’t answer. Because it is that. Or something close to it. Something messier. Less dignified.
“I didn’t expect to care this much,” I admit quietly. “Not yet. But I do.”
They don’t laugh. For once, they don’t tease.
Theo gives it a beat, then asks, “Are you worried she’s still interested in him?”
I nod slowly, eyes fixed on the rim of my coffee cup. “I asked her.”
“And?” Geoff prompts.
“She didn’t say no,” I say. “She said she doesn’t think so.”
Theo winces. “Oof.”
Geoff leans in. “That’s... not great.”
“I know.”
“Technically honest,” Theo offers. “But also, vague enough to give you hives.”
“Exactly.” I run a hand over my face. “She said she gets a bit thrown when he shows up. That she remembers things—the good bits, not the chaos. And she gets confused.”
Geoff frowns. “That’s fair, isn’t it? I mean, if he’s the father of her kid... it’s always going to be complicated.”
“I know it is,” I say. “And I’m not asking her to pretend it’s not. I just—” I stop. Shrug. “I’d rather know where I stand than keep wondering every time he turns up.”
Theo folds his arms, studying me. “Do you think she’s still in love with him?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “But I can’t quite tell if she’s working through something, or just being careful. Or both.”
Geoff nods, quieter now. “So what are you going to do?”
I pause, fiddling with the coffee spoon, scraping it gently against the inside of the cup. “I mean… I couldn’t even blame her if she went back to him. They’ve got a whole life together. A son. That kind of history is hard to walk away from.”
Geoff tilts his head. “But?”
“But I don’t want to be the rebound. I don’t want to be… the thing she does while she’s figuring stuff out. I think I want to be more than that.”
Theo says nothing, just watching me like he’s already two steps ahead.
I glance between them, then sit back, exhaling hard. “I think I’m falling for her.”
It lands in the quiet that follows.
Geoff blinks. “Sorry—say that again? I think I just hallucinated.”
“I’m falling for her,” I repeat, quieter now. “Properly. Not in the ‘she’s fit and we get along’ way. In the ‘I look at her and wonder where we are going to celebrate our ten-year anniversary.”
Geoff stares at me like I’ve just grown a second head.
Theo, on the other hand, just smiles—not smug this time. Just... knowing.
“Well,” he says, lifting his coffee cup in mock salute. “Welcome to the club.”
“What club?”
“The poor sods who’ve fallen head over heels,” he says. “I wrote Ivy a little love note this morning. You’re in good company.”
Geoff shakes his head. “You two are making me nauseous. I’m going to go flirt with the barista and pretend none of this happened.”
He gets up and disappears in the direction of the counter, muttering something about emotional contagion.
Theo watches him go, then turns back to me. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“I’m doomed?”
“You’re invested. Which means you’ll have to stop hovering in the background like a Victorian ghost and actually tell her how you feel.”
I grunt. “I was hoping there’d be a middle ground.”
“There’s not,” he says, smiling into his cup. “It’s terrifying. But also… worth it.”
I nod slowly, the words still sitting heavy in my chest.
“I hope so!”
I turn into the drive, tyres crunching over gravel.
As the house comes into view, something shifts in my peripheral—a small shape on the steps outside the flat.
I park, engine ticking as it cools, and walk around the side.
SJ is sitting on the top step, hunched over in his hoodie, legs drawn up.
It’s only when I’m closer that I spot Twinklesocks curled into the space between his arms. She’s half-asleep, tail flicking lazily, chin resting against his chest like she’s guarding him.
SJ doesn’t move. Doesn’t look up.
He’s not crying, but there’s a sniff, sharp and quick, and a swipe of his sleeve across his nose like he’s hoping no one notices.
I step in closer and crouch beside the step, keeping my voice low and even.
“Hey,” I say. “What happened?”
He shifts slightly, fingers still tangled in Twinklesocks’ fur. His voice is quiet, flat around the edges.
“I got back from school. Mum texted she was stuck in traffic, so I let myself in with my key.”
He pauses. Breathes.
“The cat gate was open and I didn’t close the door fast enough. Twinklesocks shot past me and ran outside.”
I nod slowly.
“I dropped my bag and stuff inside and closed the door so Thor wouldn’t get out too.” His eyes flick up, and back down again. “Then I ran after her. She nearly got to the side gate, but I caught her by the bins.”
Twinklesocks shifts against him like she remembers none of it.
He looks back at the flat door.