Chapter 3
Day One
A happy blast of Christmas songs fills the house while I’m in the kitchen. After spending all afternoon hands buried in pastry and fruit mince, it’s cleanup time. With the music at maximum volume, I didn’t hear Christian get up. Now, in the pause between playlists, the silence that drew me through to the lounge to attend to my phone is not silence at all. The dogs huff with joy, and he murmurs endearments to them as both hands caress their bodies. As a guitarist, he’s very good with his hands, and it seems he applies this talent effectively to other purposes.
Noticing me in the doorway, he tilts his chin in recognition and offers a shy smile. This man is such a contradiction. I didn’t think him capable of modesty, let alone shyness. Mularkey sprawls across him, face turned upwards in a wide, loving grin as he scratches her chest. Tully is curled under his armpit, eyes closed in a blissful doze while his fingers massage her satiny ears. Neither dog looks towards me. He’s got them under his spell, and I can’t say I blame them. If I had someone showering such affection on me, stroking all my most pleasurable spots, I wouldn’t be seeking anyone else either.
They say dogs are an excellent judge of character and I’ve found that to be true. Which means I may have to go easier on Christian Steele. If Ollie, Tully, and Mularkey are in Team Christian, then I might have to join them. Even so, my mind protests the thought; I’m not ready to go there yet.
“I thought I’d order in pizza. Want some?” I offer. It’s definitely dinner o’clock, but I’m too exhausted to cook. All the decorating and then my little baking spree—whipping up some Christmas mince pies to take into work on Monday—has left me with no energy to be creative in the kitchen.
“Thanks, that would be great,” he says. “I’ve barely eaten for two days.”
I can believe it. He looks tired and gaunt, with hollows under his eyes and a sallow undertone to his olive skin.
“Only the liquid stuff, eh?” I remember the alcoholic haze wafting around him earlier.
He gives a rueful smile. It tips up at one corner, suggesting the possibility of a dimple waiting to pop under that damn beard.
“Haley, I swear the last forty-eight hours would have driven anyone to drink—even you. But yeah, some proper food would be good, thanks.”
I grab my phone and place an order. While we wait, I opt for some mindless television, a house renovation programme on the Living Channel. Anything to spare me from catching up on the second episode of Wild For The Win I missed last night. Now I know Christian isn’t there working hard for the rescue, I’ve lost all interest. It would only turn up my simmering anger with him to boiling point. Why he’s here and not there, I don’t want to ask. Knowing Christian’s reputation, he’s done something awful. The details would only stir me up more.
My phone chimes with a text confirming the arrival of my delivery. A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the door. Before I can stand to answer it, Christian wades from between the sleeping dogs, rousing them with surprised looks while holding a finger to his lips. He dives down the hallway and doesn’t reappear from his room until I close the front door with a firm thud.
He’s taking this hiding out thing seriously, and to be fair, it was probably wise. That pizza delivery girl would sure have something to tell her friends if she’d glimpsed Christian Steele lounging on my couch.
He wolfs down more than his half share. Luckily, I’m not a big eater. Carefully wiping his hands clean, he returns to thumbing listlessly through Ollie’s copy of The Lord of The Rings. After running the boxes out to the recycling bin and emptying my baking utensils from the dishwasher, I return to the TV, finding a rerun of The Great British Bake Off. I startle when a few minutes later the Tolkein hits the coffee table with a thwack.
“Why don’t we watch a Christmas movie?” he suggests.
Is he a mind reader? How the hell did he know I was going to start my Christmas movie binge tonight? With no other plans—friends all busy, no boyfriend—I’d intended to make my own happy Saturday night, blotting out all thoughts of Jack and Paige with a nice Christmas rom-com. Until he turned up.
“So, how did you know by coming to stay here, you’ve signed up for the compulsory Christmas movie marathon?”
“What else would be happening in a room that looks like this?” he deadpans, rolling his eyes as he surveys the room, that even I have to admit is literally heaving with decoration. However, I also detect a faint spark in his eyes, the first trace of actual enthusiasm I’ve noticed for anything except the pizza. Maybe Christian has a secret weakness for sappy Christmas viewing?
“OK, so what shall we watch?”
“How about Love Actually ? That’s a good one.” His teasing mouth twitches at the corners. Somehow, he’s zeroed in on my absolute favourite. I don’t argue. A quick stab at the remote, and I settle in to enjoy the familiar much-loved montage of stories unfolding on the screen.
We reach the part where we meet the two unlikely film body doubles, who are having a normal conversation while simulating a sex scene, and Christian snorts loudly.
“What the fuck?” He mutters under his breath, before dissolving into loud rumbles of laughter. OK, it is a funny scene, but it’s not that funny unless you’re seeing it for the first time—and the lights go on in my head. I hit pause, and he turns to me, still chuckling to himself, and his eyes meet mine, sparkling with amusement.
“You’ve never even watched this movie before.” I can’t help the accusing tone.
“No. But it’s great.”
“Then why did you suggest it?” I frown .
“While you were in the kitchen, I was flicking through and saw your saved list. Figured me being here shouldn’t disrupt your Saturday night plans.”
I’m not sure whether to be pleased with his consideration or annoyed he’s assumed I’d have no plans for the weekend other than watching Christmas movies alone. I brush away the thought and press play once more.
I wouldn’t admit it to Christian, but it’s actually fun observing someone enjoy the movie for the first time. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smile at sleazy Billy Mack’s snarkiness. He chokes with laughter at hapless Colin’s mission to find love in the USA. Watching Christian’s unfolding discovery of something special to me is kind of endearing and despite my resolve to hold on to my anger, I find my stance on his actions wavering a tad.
As the final credits roll, I’m sure he even gets a little misty-eyed at the beautiful scenes of people reuniting with friends and family at the airport. Who would have picked Christian as a man who’d go all mushy over a chick-flick?
“That was really good,” he says, and I do believe he means it. “But you can’t tell anyone I said that, right?” He points a cautionary finger at me. “Not even Ollie. Not good for my image.” He wipes at one eye. “Damn it, I should have taken these contacts out hours ago.”
I try not to smile at the lie—I’m positive he’s not wearing contacts—and instead hit him with the most important question of all.
“OK, there’s a compulsory end of viewing test for all Love Actually virgins.”
One brow flies up to his forehead, and he flashes me his lopsided smile, the same one that sends the fan girls swooning. Of course, I’m not susceptible to its heat .
“Really?” His smile morphs into a grin that shows off perfectly white teeth.
“Yes, really. The good news is there’s only one question and no wrong answers. So, Christian, you need to take a stand here.” I fix him with my most serious quizmaster stare. “Which story did you like best?”
He answers without hesitation. “The guy who’s in love with his friend’s wife.”
God, that’s my favourite too. Strange Christian and I have this in common.
“Why?” I ask, unable to mask my surprise at his unexpected choice.
“Because it’s not easy to have feelings for someone who’s off limits to you.” His voice drops to just above a whisper. I have a sense there’s something personal in this, but curious as I am, I’ve no right to pry. “Brave of him to admit it. Even though he knows it’s hopeless.”
The grin has dissolved into a sad smile and there’s an odd expression in his eyes. He looks away from my gaze, as if fearful I’ll read something there he doesn’t want to share. Fair enough. He’s my brother’s best friend, but we barely know each other. He’s under no obligation to spill his secrets to me.
He turns back to me. “And yours?”
“Same,” I admit. He doesn’t demand a reason for my choice, but I have a strange compulsion to offer one. “I’ve always admired how she handles his feelings in that scene. I mean, he’s so fragile. And she gets that.” His nod encourages me to go on, the words somehow tumbling forth, pushing past my usual reserve with people I don’t know well. “It’s a special thing to be gifted another person’s admission of love, to have someone be vulnerable and face the risk of rejection. Especially when it’s from someone unexpected.” I don’t know why I’m saying this to Christian Steele, but I can’t help myself. “I hope if it happened to me, I could accept that sort of declaration with the same graciousness, no matter who it came from.”
“I hope so too,” he says, his voice low.
Something hangs in the air. It’s as if I’m observing him through a gauzy curtain that blurs the space between us. It ripples in an invisible breeze, flickering light and shadows softening the contours of his face. Then the moment is gone. Christian breaks our gaze and leaps to his feet.
“God, I’m still absolutely exhausted,” he announces with a sprawling, almost theatrical yawn. “I guess I’ll leave you to enjoy The Holiday in peace. Number two on your list, if I remember correctly?”
I can’t help but mirror the teasing grin he tosses over his shoulder. Tully’s sad eyes follow his progress across the lounge, disappointed her couch buddy should abandon us so early. Mularkey tracks him to the doorway, gazing at him hopefully. I follow. It’s time the girls went out, anyway.
“No girl,” he says gently, fondling her pointy ears in a way that causes her to melt into the floor. “Maybe you can sleep with me another night, if the boss lady says you can.”
It melts my heart a little too. Christian has many critics, me included after today’s bombshell, but I struggle to hold it against him as I see his affinity for animals. No wonder he chose the rescue as his charity. As if he senses my softening, he pauses at his bedroom door.
“Goodnight, Haley,” he says. “Thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” I was brought up to meet politeness with grace .
He’s about to close the door when he hesitates, turning back to me.
“Look, I know you’re pissed at me about the show.” He’s far more perceptive than I’d ever have given him credit for. I thought I’d hidden it well. “I promise I’ll tell you everything sometime. I just can’t right now. OK?”
“OK. Goodnight Christian.”
I sit up a little longer afterwards, wondering what the hell really went on up in Scotland while flip-flopping between a parade of pathetic television programmes. I’m too tired to start another movie, no matter how tempting the thought. It’s been a long day and, finding no reason to delay further, I summon the dogs for a final quick potty stop and bed.
I slip into a pair of cheerful red tartan pyjamas and tuck up under my heavy blankets, ready to fall into cosy oblivion. However, my brain hasn’t got the memo. The intriguing presence of Christian Steele in the second bedroom off the hall, with only a shared bathroom separating us, and the weighty baggage he brought with him, stir questions and emotions.
He’s so damn likeable once he drops that frowny face. A closet romantic too, if his thoughts on my favourite movie scene ever are anything to go by. I wonder what lies beneath his words—maybe he too loved someone he couldn’t have?
Thoughts of Christian clatter through my head, jangling metal like one of those chatter rings I loved as a kid. They’re a frenetic chorus in my brain, keeping sleep frustratingly beyond reach.
As the minutes drag on, I attempt to damp down the chaotic whir, reaching for the familiar thoughts of my dogs that usually occupy the space between being awake and asleep .
However, focusing on the dogs doesn’t bring peace, but rather allows very real and more worrying sounds to intrude.