Page 115 of Holiday Romance
“Support your brother,” she snaps, bringing them to the sideboard before heading back for more.
“I am! I’m getting rid of his temptation!”
“That’s not necessary,” Andrew says as Sean hands her his own glass.
“Of course it is,” she mutters. “You’ve been sitting there suffering while we’re waving everything around in front of you. Molly, I don’t know what you must think of us.”
“I—”
“I can’t even remember how much wine I put into the gravy.” Her hand flies to her chest. “And there’s brandy in the ice cream.”
“Mam, it’s okay.”
“Did you join one of those clubs?” she asks suddenly. “Triple A?”
“It’s just AA. And no, but I’ve joined another program that—”
“Your uncle Kevin has been told he has a gluten intolerance. Maybe you should talk with him.”
“Mother of God,” Christian mutters, dropping his head to the table.
“I know it’s not the same,” Colleen says. “But he’s had to give up a lot. You know how that man likes his bread.”
“There’s gluten in beer too,” Hannah pipes up, and Colleen gestures toward her with aseemotion.
“I’m doing okay,” Andrew says firmly. “I just didn’t tell you guys until now because I didn’t want you freaking out.” At this Colleen harrumphs. “I don’t want to be the guy that stops you having a glass of wine with dinner. It’s a personal decision and I’m glad I made it. I’ve got plenty of support…” Another hand squeeze. “And I think I’m going to be able to do it,” he finishes. “But I wanted to be honest and let you know.”
Sean nods while Colleen sits back down, still looking flustered. “You didn’t have any gravy, did you?” she asks.
“No.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“You alright, Mam?” Christian asks as she starts folding her napkin into a tiny square.
“I’m fine.”
“Want a glass of wine?”
“Yes, I think—No,” she amends, horrified as Christian starts to laugh. Andrew grins as she glares at him and then Hannah starts listing all the sober celebrities she knows and Sean excuses himself from the table only to come back with a fresh bottle of sparkling water that Colleen quickly adds some sliced lemons to.
And they move on.
I don’t know whether I’ve become more attuned to him these last few days, or if he really is just that relieved, but it’s like a weight has been lifted from Andrew’s shoulders, and though he has to spend several minutes convincing his mother to pour more brandy over the pudding, it’s worth it when they turn off all the lights and set it ablaze. That’s accompanied by ice cream, and more dessert brought over by Liam who says he saved a cake from their family holiday to Milan in November.
“It’s panettone,” he declares, starting to cut into it.
Andrew and I turn to each other at the same time and he smiles so wide that I burst out laughing, much to the confusion of everyone else.
After dinner, Liam and his family return home and the remaining Fitzpatricks (and me) move to the living room, where Andrew’s father has a fire going in the hearth.
“Movie time,” Andrew explains as we settle on the couch. It’s the sinking kind, worn with age and impossible to get out of, and as soon as I sit beside him, I’m tipped into his side. Neither of us mind so much, Andrew quickly draping an arm around my shoulder like he’s afraid I’m going to move away.
“What are we watching?” I ask.
“Dad always picks. It’s the one time of the year he gets to be in charge of the television.” Almost as soon as he’s finished speaking, Hannah starts a drumroll on her lap as Sean stands, drawing all eyes toward him.
“No pressure,” Christian drawls from where he’s lounging on the floor with his back against the couch.
