Page 108 of Holiday Romance
“I would really appreciate it if you could now move away from the fridge,” Andrew says behind me.
“But you’re so cute,” I coo, peering at a photo of him as a toddler. “Though I have to ask…”
“Please don’t.”
“Why are you naked in every picture?”
“Because he refused to wear clothes,” Colleen says by the sink.
“Mam,” Andrew warns.
“Flat out refused until he was five,” she continues, ignoring him. “I’d dress him, turn my back and he’d have them whipped off in an instant. One time when he was three, he started stripping in the middle of the supermarket. I’ll never forget chasing him around the frozen aisle. Screaming his head off, grabbing hold of his—”
“Hannah!” Andrew roars. “Hurry up!”
“I’m coming,” she yells back. “Keep your pants on.”
“Yeah, Andrew,” I say. “Keep your pants on.”
The look he gives me is one of huge betrayal.
“Two hours minimum,” Colleen reminds us as he tugs me into the hallway. “And if anywhere is open, see if you can get some more bread!”
We emerge just as Hannah appears, running down the stairs in a green velvet dress and black Doc Martens. She skips the two bottom steps, landing with a thump that sends more family photos rattling.
“Did you make that?” Andrew asks, as she hands us our coats she retrieved from upstairs.
She nods, complying with his gesture to spin around. The skirt balloons out when she does before falling gracefully around her legs.
“What did I tell you?” he asks, sounding genuinely proud. “The smart one.”
Outside, Christian is sitting on the porch, shoving his feet into rubber boots as the dogs sniff around him. They immediately bound up to Hannah, who doesn’t bother to put them on the lead as she corrals them toward the gate.
“I will give you one hundred euro to spend the day with Dad,” Christian says to Andrew. Andrew only smirks, bringing me after Hannah, who’s waiting for us at the top of the drive.
“He’s been in a bad mood since he got back,” Hannah says when we catch up with her. She’s left the coat open to show off her dress and is shivering in the cold. “It’s because he’s the only single person this year.”
Andrew’s head whips toward her and, for a second, I think he’s about to refute that, about us, but his eyes narrow. “You’re dating someone?”
“Maybe,” Hannah says.
“Since when?”
“None of your business.”
“It is my business, you’re sixteen.”
“I can read and write too,” she says, and takes off down the lane in a light jog that has the dogs running after her in excitement.
Andrew turns my way, looking for an ally, only to find me grinning instead. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say innocently. “Just the big brother protective streak is kind of hot.”
“I am not—”
“Oh my God, you are.”
“She’s sixteen!”
