Chapter 20 MIA
Mia
The only acceptable tears on Christmas are the joyful ones. The ones that come with the sentimental gift, or when the carol singers hit just the right note.
The unacceptable kind are the ones that might be shed over a certain good-looking, glasses-wearing, tennis-playing, heartless excuse for a man.
Which is why Mia is not crying. She didn’t cry last night, when she finally gave up hoping Sam would come talk to her and went to bed.
She didn’t cry this morning when she woke up.
And now, as she marches up the path towards the main house, she still does not cry.
She even stays strong as she lets herself in and pulls out her phone, waiting for it to connect to Wi-Fi to check her messages one more time.
Unread.
The absolute nerve. The unabashed, bald-faced, hypocritical nerve. After all of that emotional bullshit yesterday in the cottage, how could he not respond to her, not even read her message? Mia storms into the kitchen, in search of coffee, and contemplating murder.
Luckily, only Martin is seated at the counter. ‘Hey, Mia bella, Happy Christmas! Coffee is fresh if you need some. I did the cinnamon roast, given it’s Christmas.’
Mia grunts a response and snatches down a mug, the largest on the shelf.
She just wants an excessive dose of sugared caffeine.
She also wants all single, eligible men to be razed off the face of the earth, but she stopped believing she could get anything she wished for on Christmas years ago, and this Christmas is only reaffirming that fact.
Mia leans against the counter and sips her coffee, eyes closed and anger raging.
‘Christmas certainly is different from when you and Charlie were little,’ Martin pipes up.
‘Used to be I couldn’t get a cup of coffee in before you were all dragging me in to open up presents.
Now I can have two before anyone else even shows their face.
’ He leans back and looks up at the ceiling, chuckling.
‘Do you remember the Christmas we got Charlie a make-your-own candle set? We had smoke rings on every ceiling in the house. I had to pay a painter a fortune to get all the ceilings redone.’ Martin shakes his head.
Mia turns back to the pot and refills her cup, emptying the pot. The caffeine isn’t working. She’s still fuming.
He could have at least answered. Even a no, thanks would have been better than just being ignored.
Or, at the very least, he could have read the text.
There’s no way he didn’t see it. And she bets that if she asks him about it, he’ll probably deny it.
Maybe he’ll make up something about being absorbed in his poetry, or some crap along those lines. She wouldn’t put it past him.
She never should have listened to John. He’s been trapped in limbo for thirty years. That hardly makes him an expert on romantic relationships. Especially after she found out how he handled everything with Alastair.
Aunt Gertie totters into the kitchen. ‘Well, good morning! Merry Christmas, darlings.’ Martin responds cheerily and Mia mumbles the expected response under her breath.
Aunt Gertie gives her a long, appraising look, and then pats her on the arm.
‘It will be all right, dearie. Next time, say no after the first two martinis.’
‘I’m not hungover,’ Mia protests.
‘She’s always been a lightweight,’ Martin confirms. ‘She gets that from her mother.’
‘I’m just saying, there’s no equating the World Cup with the Grand Slam. It can’t even be compared in terms of audience,’ Charlie objects as he walks into the kitchen.
‘Well, how many people watch the World Cup?’ Sam asks, following right behind him. They both make a beeline for the coffee.
‘Hey, who finished it off and didn’t make more?’ Charlie moans as he rifles through the cabinets for the grounds.
‘Mia gets what from me?’ Penny asks as she walks into the kitchen, fastening her pearl earring in her left ear. ‘Please don’t say Mia’s poor vision. That’s a Robinson trait through and through.’
‘I can see just fine!’ Mia exclaims. ‘I don’t even need glasses!’ Why has this morning turned into a full-on assault against her?
‘Yes, but your night vision is abysmal.’ Penny shakes her head. ‘The Clarkes can see much better at night.’
Mia blinks a few times, unsure of how to even respond to this.
Sam perches himself in the breakfast nook, putting away a banana with impressive speed.
Mia can think of half a dozen insults she could scratch into that peel – if only she’d thought of that last night.
‘Ugh. I hate the smell of bananas in the morning,’ she complains, glaring at Sam from her post beside the coffee pot.
‘Mia, you’re blocking the pot,’ Charlie complains. ‘Move over a bit.’
Mia takes one grudging step to the side, and then says, ‘No one even cares about the Grand Slam any more. Tennis is just a social event for rich, entitled people. No self-respecting person watches tennis.’
Sam looks at her agog but doesn’t respond, since his mouth is still full of banana.
Charlie scoffs. ‘Whatever! You love tennis. I have half a dozen memes about Federer from you on my phone right now.’ He whips out his phone and waggles it near Mia’s face.
‘Oh, shove off, Charlie. But what about you, Sam?’ Mia seethes. ‘Do you have proof of your ridiculous opinions on your phone too? Care to share?’
Sam pats his pocket, looking nonplussed. ‘I think I forgot my phone upstairs.’
‘I bet you did,’ Mia snaps.
Charlie hip-checks her from his post next to her. ‘What is your deal?’
‘Watch it!’ Mia objects, lifting her mug away from her body as the coffee sloshes.
‘You’re going to splash it on my clothes!
’ She’s wearing her favourite Christmas jumper again, the beautiful cable knit one with the turtleneck and the rich reds and greens.
Usually, it makes her feel incredibly comfortable and festive.
But today, although she paired the jumper with dark green wide-legged trousers and deep red boots, she still feels like Scrooge.
Even the vintage diamond studs she’s wearing haven’t been able to cheer her up.
‘Speaking of which’ – Mia gives her brother’s attire a sarcastic once-over – ‘it seems you’ve gone for the homeless look as usual. ’
Charlie rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, give it a rest, Mia. It’s Christmas morning and I’m still in my pyjamas. I’ll look perfectly presentable in a bit. Why don’t you go align your chakras, or whatever it is you need to do to get out of this funk.’
‘I agree,’ Penny chimes in from her spot at the counter where she’s arranging cinnamon rolls on a tray to warm in the oven.
‘There’s no need for all this vitriol. Especially on Christmas Day.
Charlie, I’m sure whatever you wear today will be wonderful.
And Mia, you look very nice as well. That jumper looks fantastic on you.
Although I do wish you would wear Grandma Joan’s earrings one of these days. They always looked so lovely on you.’
‘They don’t go with my outfit,’ Mia mumbles. She’s never had the heart to tell her mum that one of Gran’s earrings went missing.
‘I think your outfit looks wonderful,’ Sam pipes up from his spot in the breakfast nook.
‘Yeah, well, I didn’t actually ask you for your opinion, thank you,’ Mia snaps at him. Sam’s eyebrows draw together as he studies her.
Charlie barks out a laugh. ‘There’s the miserable Mia we all know and love. I wondered where she’d gone the last few days.’
Aunt Gertie clucks her tongue. Mia can’t tell if the sound is meant to be sympathetic or critical.
All she knows is she feels awful, and snapping at her family isn’t making her feel any better.
Besides, Sam is the one who she’s pissed off with.
Shame on him for ever thinking they could move beyond the past. Mia looks over at Sam, who’s watching her warily.
‘Why are you even still here? Why didn’t you have the decency to decline Charlie’s invitation so we could just celebrate Christmas in peace as a family? ’
‘Mia!’ Her mother looks up, appalled. Penny grabs Mia by the elbow and tugs her from the room, muttering under her breath.
Mia lets herself be dragged into the front room, as her mother hisses her displeasure the entire way.
Penny stops in front of the tree and finally releases her.
‘What is wrong with you? Speaking to Sam that way. Or any of us? I don’t know what’s got into you, but I simply won’t have it.
Not on Christmas Day. You’re going to need to pull it together.
Sam has been nothing but delightful to us all while he’s been here.
Helpful to your father, kind to Aunt Gertie.
And so polite any time he’s talked to me.
He’s been an absolute joy. He doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. ’
‘But, Mum—’ Mia begins, but Penny shakes her head.
‘Don’t “but Mum” me. I’m serious. This grudge has gone on long enough. You’re not going to ruin Christmas over it.’
Mia is horrified to find that she’s losing the fight against her tears. After everything that’s happened, and now her mother is telling her to just get over it? ‘Mum, you know what he did to me.’
Penny’s expression softens. ‘Yes, darling, I do. And it was horrible. But it was years and years ago.’ She pats Mia’s cheek gently.
‘Holding on to this pain is hurting you so much, it’s doing you no good at all.
It’s time to let it go. Now. Go upstairs and pull yourself together.
We’ll wait for you before we open presents. ’