Page 16 of Holiday Romance
I stare at him as he watches me, looking tense. Oh my God. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, flustered now. “That’s… that’s great, Andrew. Congratulations.”
He smiles slightly. “Stop panicking.”
“I’m not! I’m fine.” I tip my water glass to my lips only to realize too late it doesn’t have any water left. “So, is it like a sponsorship thing or what?”
“I’m following a program, but it’s mainly just me. It was getting a bit…” He shakes his head. “Anyway. It’s all good. I’m seeing how it goes. But you? You deserve some champagne.”
“No, I can just—”
“It’s Christmas,” he interrupts firmly. “And I promise that as tempting as you are, you knocking back some bubbles is not going to trip me up.”
“I’m really ok—”
“This is why I didn’t tell you,” he says gently. “Please don’t make it a thing. Have a drink, Moll.”
I hesitate at the sincerity in his voice. “Well, now it’s awkward if I do and awkward if I don’t,” I grumble, and he grins.
“Then my job here is done.” He holds up a hand, instantly making eye contact with the barman. “Besides,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder as snow continues to fall on the runway. “Looks like we’re going to be here a while.”
CHAPTER THREE
One glass slowly turns to two as our flight is pushed back and back and back. Too hungry to wait for food on the plane, we end up ordering burgers and Andrew shows me so many videos of Penny that I don’t notice how crowded our terminal has gotten until I get up to use the restroom and find the line snaking past the vending machines. The place is packed with people, other passengers finding space where they can along walls and windows, distracting sulking children with books and iPads and whatever they can get their hands on. By the time I make it back to the bar, there’s even more, but they don’t look as annoyed as you’d expect for a delayed flight this close to Christmas. They’ve gone past that. They lookworried. And for the first time since I arrived, I start to feel the same.
I gaze up at the departure board by the bar and the longDelayedcolumn beside each flight. God. If this turns into an all-night thing, I’ll end up falling asleep on the plane and the upgrades will have been for nothing. It wasn’t the little luxuries I was looking forward to, though they were certainly a perk, but Andrew was such a nerd about this part of our tradition and I selfishly wanted to see his reaction to everything. I wanted to make him happy.
Sober. I frown as I think back to the last few times I’ve been with him. Since when has he not been sober? Yes, alcohol was usually involved, but it was only ever a glass or two in restaurants and bars. No warning signs. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him drunk. I’ve seen Gabriela drunk lots of times.I’vebeen drunk lots of times. But Andrew?
Once? Maybe twice? And he wasn’t even that bad. I mean, itwasChristmas. It’s to be expected.
A short whistle drags my attention back to the man himself and I turn to find him sitting with his back against the bar, watching me.
“You alright there, Moll?”
“I like your sweater.”
“You hate my sweater.”
I do hate his sweater. I always hate his sweaters. He’s big into the novelty Christmas outfits and this one is no different, bright green and dotted with red and white candy canes. Every year he wears something new, and the gaudier it looks, the happier it seems to make him.
“I like that you like your sweater,” I explain.
He smiles faintly but doesn’t move from his spot. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Depends,” I tease, sauntering over to him.
“Depends?”
“On what you want to talk about.” I lean against the counter and turn my phone over. The screen is full of notifications, which doesn’t immediately worry me because I choose to live chaotically when it comes to app alerts, but instead of the usual group chat updates and newsletters from a nail salon I went to once five years ago, I see a dozen very urgent-sounding notices.
“…and you’re not listening to me.”
“Huh?” I glance up to see Andrew staring at me with an exasperated look. I’d completely zoned out. “Sorry!” I grimace. “Sorry. It’s just… are you seeing this?”
He frowns as I show him my phone before taking his own out from his pocket.
