Chapter 27 Rudolph the Red-flagged Ex
Chapter twenty-seven
Rudolph the Red-flagged Ex
Miranda
The plates are in the dishwasher, the leftover pasta is cooling far too slowly on the side, and SJ is dramatically flopped across the sofa like he’s just completed a marathon rather than eaten three helpings of dinner.
“Are you sure you’re full?” I ask, folding the tea towel over the edge of the sink.
He groans into a cushion. “Too full. I might need to be carried to bed.”
“You can text your legs and ask them to rejoin you,” I say, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
I glance at the screen and sigh. “It’s your dad,” I say, reaching for it.
SJ lifts his head an inch. “Tell him I’m very full and I might be dying.”
“Tell him yourself,” I reply, tapping the screen to answer and flicking it onto speaker. “Hi, Sim-Sim—you’re on speaker, just so you know.”
“Oh. Hi. Hi, SJ,” comes his voice, overly chipper.
SJ lifts his head just enough to speak, his voice full of theatrical drama. “Dad, I’m full. Like, dangerously full.”
Sim-Sim laughs. “How many helpings?”
“Three,” SJ says, groaning happily. “And garlic bread.”
“Rookie mistake,” Sim-Sim replies. “Always pace yourself when there’s garlic bread involved.”
“I regret nothing,” SJ mumbles into the cushion.
“Spoken like a true champion,” Sim-Sim says. “What was it, Mum’s famous pasta?”
“Yep. The one with the crunchy bits on top.”
“Ah, the good stuff. I miss that pasta. You’re a lucky man.”
SJ grins. “I know.”
They both chuckle, and I find myself smiling too… watching them fall into that easy rhythm they always seem to manage when food and jokes are involved.
Sim-Sim clears his throat lightly. “So… the real reason I called. I just wanted to check what time I should come and collect you both on the 23rd. And… Miranda, are you still coming for Christmas?”
Before I can even open my mouth, SJ bolts upright like he’s been electrocuted.
“You’re coming?! You’re coming for Christmas?!”
His eyes are wide, delighted, hopeful in that pure, eight-year-old way that makes your heart twist and your guilt flare all at once.
“I—” I glance at the phone, then at SJ. “We haven’t finalised anything yet—”
“Dad, she’s coming, right?” SJ barrels on, already climbing off the sofa like he needs to start packing immediately. “You said she might, and now she is, right?!”
I glare at the phone. Or, more accurately, at Sim-Sim’s voice.
“I said I’d ask,” Sim-Sim says, all faux-innocent, like he didn’t just lob a conversational grenade into my kitchen. “Thought it was worth checking.”
I close my eyes briefly. I want to kick him. Just a light, satisfying shin tap.
“Miranda?” he prompts, all casual.
SJ is bouncing now. Actually bouncing. “Mum, please say yes! Granny does the Christmas crackers with the good toys, remember? And the quiz! And the gingerbread decorating! And if you come, you can be on my team!”
I exhale slowly and pinch the bridge of my nose. "We'll talk about it later, sweetheart," I say gently, offering him a smile that feels a bit too tight.
“Okay,” SJ says, still practically glowing. “But later can it be a yes?”
I ruffle his hair, steering him toward the hallway. “Go on, go brush your teeth and get your uniform sorted for tomorrow.”
He calls our a cheerful “Bye, Dad, love you,” and disappears into his room with a clatter.
I take the phone off speaker.
“What was that?”
A pause. “What?”
“You ambushed me.”
Another pause, this one heavier. “It wasn’t meant to be—”
“You told him I was coming. Before I said I was.”
“Fuck! I’m sorry, Miranda, I wasn’t thinking,” he sighs.
I close my eyes. Maybe it really wasn’t on purpose. “You know what SJ’s like. If you say maybe with a smile in your voice, he hears definitely with Christmas glitter on top.”
“I just… thought it’d be nice,” he says, gentler now. “For him. For all of us.”
I stare at the half-dried tea towel still looped over the sink. “I guess I am coming.”
“Miranda, I can talk to him if you don’t want to—”
“No. Let’s do this,” I say, voice quiet but firm. “Let’s find out where we stand.” Somehow it sounds like a warning, a threat, and not really like someone who is considering spending time with the other person.
He sighs. “Okay. Miranda, I really didn’t mean to put you in this position.”
Another silence.
“I… it’s okay.” I don’t really sound like myself.
“Thank you,” he says at last.
“Gotta go,” I mutter. “Oh, and I am bringing the kittens.” I need my emotional support animals.
“Miranda—”
“See you on the 23rd,” I end the call.
Fuck! I take a deep breath. There is only one thing to do now.
“I’m just going to pop over to Jasper’s for a sec,” I call out to SJ.
He pops his head out of his room. “Why?”
“To say thank you. For the hot chocolate. And for rescuing you with the spare key.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal—but there’s a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It was good hot chocolate.”
“I bet it was.”
I slip my shoes back on and grab my cardigan from the hook.
“Five minutes,” I say over my shoulder.
“Take your time,” he calls after me, already half-wedged between two cushions with Thor curled on his feet like a smug, purring blanket.
I step out into the cool night air, the path between our doors familiar now—just a few strides, but somehow it feels longer today.
I should’ve texted. Or waited until morning. Or left it altogether.
But none of those things felt right, either.
He’s been kind. Thoughtful. Patient with SJ. Better than I ever expected, and somehow that only makes it worse.
Because I can’t string him along. Not when I don’t know what I’m doing. Not when part of me still panics every time I see Sim-Sim’s name on my phone.
Jasper deserves the truth. All of it. Not the polite version.
I reach the door and knock gently. It only takes a second.
He opens it in a T-shirt and jeans, barefoot, holding a book in one hand like I’ve interrupted something far too wholesome.
“Hey,” he says, eyes flicking over me. “Come in.”
I step inside, and the warmth of the house hits me like a wave. Familiar now. Comfortable. That makes what I have to do even harder.
Before I can say anything, he sets the book down, closes the door behind me, and leans in.
His hand cups the side of my face, thumb brushing just under my jaw, and then he kisses me—long, deep, like he’s anchoring something. I kiss him back, because I don’t know how not to.
But as I do, the thought breaks through—sharp and sudden:
This could be the last time.
And something in my chest aches with it.
I let the kiss linger longer than I should, even as my heart folds in on itself.
He pulls back slowly, his hand still warm against my cheek, and searches my face like he’s trying to read a map with half the landmarks missing.
Then he steps aside, guiding me gently into the living room without a word.
The lamp in the corner casts everything in that soft, honey-coloured glow that always makes his house feel gentler than it should.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” I start. “For helping SJ. And… the hot chocolate. He said it was really good.”
Jasper leans against the doorframe, arms folded loosely across his chest.
“No problem,” he says. But he doesn’t look away.
He watches me for a second longer, then asks, voice low, “What did you really come over for?”
I take a breath. Then another. It doesn’t help.
“I think…” My voice wobbles. I clear my throat and try again. “I think maybe we should just be friends... for now.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. But something about the air in the room changes. Tighter, somehow.
I press on, the words coming quickly, like if I stop, I won’t be able to start again.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. With anything. And Sim-Sim, he’s not who he was. He’s different. Calmer. More involved. It’s making me question things, and I don’t want to lie to you about that.”
Jasper doesn’t say anything.
I keep going. “He told SJ I might come to Cornwall for Christmas. With them. And SJ got so excited. I just don’t think I can take that away from him.
Not if there’s even the smallest chance it could work, for his sake.
” I pause, feeling the heat rise behind my eyes.
“So I think I need to go. To figure it out. I don’t know what I’ll find, or how I’ll feel. But I think I have to see.”
Still, nothing from Jasper.
I shift on the sofa, wrapping my arms around myself. “I need you to know… it’s not you. If this were just about me, if I didn’t have SJ to think about, I’d pick you. I know you’re the right choice.”
That hangs there, heavy and awful. I look up.
“And I’m sorry,” I add quietly. “I really, really am.”
I stand, awkwardly, fumbling for something to say, something that will make this feel less like the worst idea I’ve ever had.
“I should go,” I murmur.
I move toward the door, but he reaches out—not to stop me, not forceful—just a hand on my wrist, gentle.
“Wait.”
I turn, and before I can say anything else, he pulls me into his arms.
He holds me close, one hand at the back of my neck, the other steady on my waist. I let myself fold into him, just for a moment. One last time.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, his mouth close to my ear. “For being honest.”
Then he kisses me. Deep, slow, no urgency. Just something that says I’ll remember this.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“Take your time,” he says. “I get it. Even if it kills me a bit.”
I close my eyes, fighting back the tears.
“I’d rather you figure it out properly than stay with me and always wonder what if.”
I try to speak, but there’s nothing that won’t sound like another apology.
He lets out a breath, almost a laugh.
“We can still be friends,” he adds, stepping back enough to meet my eyes. “If that’s all you’ve got to offer right now, I’ll take it.”
My throat tightens.
“And when Sim-Sim cocks it up again…” He shrugs. “I’ll still be here.”
I manage a shaky smile. “You’re very confident.”
“I’ve met him,” he says dryly.
I let out a soft, broken laugh. Then I nod, and this time, when I leave, he lets me go.