Chapter Twenty-Five
The rest of the car journey back is torture, the air too thick between them.
She doesn’t want to wait, doesn’t want to risk one or both of them changing their minds.
She wants to enjoy it, these last forty-eight hours, even if that means pretending to herself it’s not going to hurt a thousand times over when she has to let him go.
She wants to reach out now, to touch him, and nearly does more than once.
But she knows that if she starts she won’t be able to stop, and that doesn’t feel advisable given the country lanes they are driving along.
So instead she keeps her gaze fixed firmly ahead, neither of them speaking a whole lot.
She can sense the rigidity in Finn’s posture next to her, and wonders if he, too, is fighting himself.
When they reach the cottage, Mel can see Freya and Mark dancing together in the living room, the Christmas tree lights blinking behind them.
She and Finn get out of the car, and she feels a rush of relief as he crosses to her, links his fingers with hers.
He gives her one quick smile before tugging her toward the house.
Later.
“What took you two so long?” Hattie demands as Finn and Mel come into the hallway.
“Car trouble,” Finn says, deadpan, and Mel resists the urge to snort with laughter.
“Well, come on. Kristen’s done us all mulled wine again. Dylan was all for champagne, but we’re saving that for the morning.”
Kristen brings mugs into the living room for them all, while they perch on sofas, watching Freya and Mark finishing up their dance, Susan applauding loudly.
Mel swears she can taste the brandy as she sips.
If she’s not careful, this is going to go straight to her head.
Mark takes a bow, then Finn stands, holding out his hand to his mum.
Susan smiles, lets him pull her to her feet and twirl her around.
Mel can see Finn is treating her gently, maybe more worried about the fall than he let on—and Kristen is beady-eyed as she watches Susan.
It doesn’t seem like there is any lasting damage from the fall, though, as she laughs and dances with Finn.
Mel sees her phone light up, heads to the kitchen to listen to a voice note from Priya.
Happy Christmas! I know, it’s not actually Christmas there, but it is here—isn’t that WEIRD.
Anyway, I’m on the way out to meet a couple of people from work and we’re going to have Buck’s Fizz on the beach.
And then I’ve got a barbecue, then I’m not TOTALLY sure what I’ll do, but at some point I have to ring my parents.
But I’m sure it’ll all be great. I miss you, though.
But, more importantly, tell me how it’s going there.
Has it been okay? Did you sort everyone’s presents?
What was on Susan’s list for today? Are you doing okay with Finn? And dare I ask about Lillian Hart?
Mel smiles at the sound of Priya’s voice, just as Kristen comes into the kitchen, even as her stomach squirms. Lillian Hart.
She should ask Priya what to do—Priya always has sound advice.
But it is probably not a discussion for Christmas Day, or when Priya is off to drink Buck’s Fizz with her new friends.
Is it just her, though, or does Priya sound ever so slightly manic?
What she’s saying sounds like she has a fun day planned, but the way she says it…
Then again, Mel is probably reading into it.
Priya would tell her if she wasn’t happy—wouldn’t she?
“All okay?” Kristen asks, and Mel realizes she is standing by the counter, staring into space.
“Yes!” She clears her throat. “Sorry, yes. Just my friend in Australia—twelve hours ahead and she’s already up doing Christmassy stuff over there.”
She sends a quick message back to Priya.
Buck’s Fizz on the beach sounds perfect! Hope you have a great time—photos, please!
She stops typing, chewing her lip as she wonders how to put into words how, exactly, things are going with Finn. But she can’t figure out what to say—or what, exactly, their conversation earlier means for her after Christmas.
I’ll update you on everything with a proper voice note later—maybe I can call you tomorrow if we can work it out? But sounds like you’re busy! And, drumroll…Lillian Hart wants in. It’s complicated, but she wants to work with me!
She presses send, figuring good news is best on Christmas. She gets a response immediately.
Omg I KNEW IT. My Mel, jewelry designer to the stars. I’m SO proud of you. Xxx
Mel bites her lip, staring at the message. She thinks of what Finn said and wonders if it’s true—will Priya still say she was proud if Mel doesn’t find a way to make it work?
There’s the clattering of pans and Mel jumps, looking over at Kristen in the kitchen. She sets her phone down on the side, crosses to help pick up a pan lid that Kristen has dropped.
“Can I help?” Mel asks.
“Sure. I was going to get started on dinner—we’ve got salmon in. Susan wanted to make it, but I feel like she should rest.”
Mel nods. “Put me to work. Just don’t put me in charge of spinach.”
In the living room, someone has put Christmas songs on, and if the stomping of feet is anything to go by, there is still some dancing happening. Mel starts to peel the potatoes, while Kristen sets the salmon on oven trays.
“Kristen?” Mel asks, and Kristen looks over her shoulder. “Did you, like, have a feeling about when it was right to quit your job?”
Kristen switches the oven on. “Well, the very small human made it an easier decision.”
“Right. Of course.”
Kristen moves to lean on the counter near Mel.
“I could have gone back to work right away. But I was thinking, hey, maybe I’ll get a different job—one where I could be my own boss, put my skills to good use and have some flexibility to take care of Freya.
” Kristen puts a hand on her belly, and Mel wonders if she realizes she’s doing it.
Then she sighs. “And then life happened and somehow here I am, all these years later.” She cocks her head. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Mel says quickly, just as Finn comes into the room. His gaze finds hers and her whole body goes taut, expectant.
Later.
She swallows, looking back down at the potatoes to try to get herself under control. He comes around to her side of the counter, casually runs a hand down her arm. Under her jumper, she feels goosebumps rise.
“I’ve been instructed to get everyone drinks,” Finn says. “But then I’ll come back, help lay the table.”
Mel sits next to Finn at dinner and this time, when their thighs touch under the table, she doesn’t move away, even if it’s a sort of torture. At some point he takes her hand, linking their fingers together on the table—and it is so easy, so natural, to fall back into this pattern with him.
When they move into the living room after dinner, Hattie insists on a game of Who Am I, and only once she loses the last round, unable to guess that she’s Jane Austen, does Kristen insist it’s time for bed.
“But why is Santa coming to this house, if we’re staying in that one?” Freya asks, frowning between her mum and her dad.
“Because Santa is a genius,” Hattie declares.
“He’ll know where to come because the stockings are hanging here,” Kristen says. And, indeed, stockings are currently hanging in all their red velvet glory above the woodburning stove, next to the Christmas spice candles.
“And how will he even fit down there,” Freya asks, looking skeptically at the stove—which is nowhere near as big as her fireplace at home.
“He’s been on a diet,” Finn says, and earns a snort from Hattie and one of Freya’s skeptical looks in return.
“Come on,” Kristen says. “Let’s get the mince pies.
” That seems to placate Freya, who helps to put out a mince pie and a glass of sherry for Santa and a carrot for Rudolf, then manages one last look at all the presents under the tree before Mark and Kristen take her off to the cottage next door, telling everyone they’ll see them in the morning.
Susan uses this as an excuse to head up to bed, too, kissing all four of them on the cheek before heading up.
“God, I’m just so stuffed,” Hattie says, sprawling on the sofa next to Mel, so that she’s taking up the majority of the room—impressive, really, given how small she is.
“Maybe it was the third mince pie that did it,” Finn says mildly.
Hattie waves him off, then groans, putting a hand on her stomach. “I’m going to have nightmares, for sure. I always do if I eat too much.”
“Well, why don’t we go for a walk, burn some of it off?” Dylan asks, who is standing next to Finn, their backs to the woodburning stove.
Hattie wrinkles her nose. “In the dark ?”
Dylan laughs. “Well, why not?”
Hattie purses her lips, then concedes with a shrug. “Yeah. Why not?” She allows Dylan to pull her to her feet, and winks at Mel as they grab their coats. “See you kids later.”
And then it is just her and Finn. For a moment, it is quiet as they just look at each other.
His gaze is so focused on hers that she feels something jump in her stomach.
She becomes very aware that she’s sitting down, and that he’s standing, and immediately gets to her feet.
Then she feels ridiculous, like she’s called attention to herself for no particular reason.
He is watching her, and she feels the weight of his focus as he takes a step toward her. She mirrors him. The corner of his mouth pulls up. “Hi,” he says.
She smiles. “Hi.”
He takes another step toward her and she tilts her chin up to look at him. He reaches out, runs his thumb lightly over her jaw. Her breath catches, and his gaze drops to her mouth. He moves slowly, eyes flickering to hers once more. Asking for permission, she knows.