Page 25 of Make You Mine This Christmas
Sadly, she doesn’t have any gloves, though she could leave her email. Perhaps, her Twitter or Instagram handle.
Her phone buzzes with a message from Christopher saying he’s on his way and to meet her at the French café by the Christmas tree in about twenty minutes.
‘No, it’s okay. Just wasn’t meant to be.’
Things were complicated enough right now with her fake boyfriend.
The bookseller seems to deflate. ‘All right then. Have a merry Christmas. Enjoy the book.’
‘You too. Thanks for this,’ she says, meaning both the book and the solidarity. She waves goodbye and wobbles out of the shop to the café, past the enormous Christmas tree and another wave of fresh multilingual reunions by the Eurostar.
Haf drags her backpack through the tightly packed tables to a table in the corner that the waiter directs her to. The universe appears to be briefly on her side, because she doesn’t bash anyone.
She orders a coffee, and takes the book out of her bag, unwrapping the paper. Waiting in a train station seems like the right time to read something new. But she just can’t. She’s too wrapped up in the failure of the moments that brought this book to her. She sets it face up on the table, and scrolls through Twitter instead.
@thehafofitHad a train station meet-cute and completely fumbled it lads. Womp womp.
This gets a few consolatory replies and even a pity like from Ambrose.
She loses herself in some mid-tier celebrity drama where she recognises no one’s names, and Christopher appears just as she finishes her first coffee.
‘Hello!’ he says far too cheerily.
‘Hi,’ she says back in the same tone.
They share an awkward hug as they try to avoid knocking surrounding tables while compensating for the big height difference.
‘How are you?’ he asks.
Should she tell him? It might help explain why she’s probably going to be even more socially wobbly for the next hour at least while she recovers herself.
But before she can answer, he continues on with, ‘Shall we eat here before we go? They’re not expecting us home until dinner, so we don’t really need to rush.’
‘Yes!’ she says a little too eagerly. Food will be a good distraction. ‘I’m starving.’
They eat platters of poached eggs with runny yolks and creamy mushrooms with soft bread with more coffees in tiny bowl cups.
It’s all comfortable small talk as they both bemoan the last week and settle back into the ease between them that they felt that night. It wasn’t just the booze, she’s glad to find. Conversation flows easily, and she is genuinely very happy to see him, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.
It’s time to focus on Christopher, she tells herself.Yes, your pride is hurt. Yes, you missed out on something that felt real, but this man, right here, is the first person you’ve felt a deep,instant connection with since Ambrose. Time to get your head in the game.
Christopher insists on paying, which is a relief. The train down and the much-needed final week of work coffees swallowed up a lot of her cash, and she’s not being paid until the end of the month, which seems legitimately mean.
‘Shall we go?’ he asks, kindly taking the enormous bag from her. On him, it looks in proportion. ‘We’ve got to get the Tube over to Paddington, and then we’ll get a train from there. Hopefully, it won’t be too busy.’
Haf glances down the concourse to the bookshop, checking on the faces of all the people they pass. There’s no sign of her.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
Chapter Five
Christopher and Haf make it to Paddington unscathed. Mostly. There was a short fumble through the Tube entrance where Haf is pretty sure she very nearly got stuck in the gates, though Christopher insists she was absolutely fine. Paddington station is a whole different beast of a station: a deep cavernous tunnel where all the platforms snake off into the far distance.
When Christopher checks the train times on the departures board, Haf realises with embarrassment that she has no idea where in the country Oxlea even is, never mind what train they must get. She can picture Ambrose’s disapproval, which is fair. Knowing where you’re going with a near-stranger is probably the bare minimum, really.
Whenever there’s a quiet moment, her mind slips back to the bookshop. The copy ofCarolin her backpack feels like a beacon.
They have a little while to wait for the train, so Haf suggests they do a bunch of cute couples photos for their socials and for proof of them dating. A passer-by takes a photo of the two of them in front of a big Christmas tree, and Christopher snaps a quick photo of Haf donating to the charity box in front of the carol singers dressed in matching red velvet outfits, that make them look simultaneously like every member of the March family from the nineties version ofLittle Women.
