Page 60 of Holiday Romance
“We have to be up early.”
“And we will be. Tell me the last time you slept in past eight a.m.”
I open my mouth, but the man has a point.
“Look,” he continues, seeing my hesitation. “You can stay here by yourself and… steam, but I’m going to get a hot chocolate.” He pinches his fingers together. “With a little bit of cinnamon. And three marshmallows. We deserve to have some fun.”
I sigh, glancing at the bed. I wish I was sleepy, but I’m not. I’m wide awake and growing restless. And he knows it.
“An hour?” I ask.
“Tops.”
“Fine.” I start to shrug my robe from my shoulders and his smile disappears. It’s at that moment I remember I have nothing but a bra on underneath. Everything else was getting steamed.
“Okay,” I snap, pulling it back on. “Sorry to tantalize you with my bold display of skin.”
Andrew recovers just as quickly, his grin back in place. “So, you’re tantalizing now, are you?”
“And with that comment, I’m not steaming your clothes. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” I point to the door and he straightens, hands in the air.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he calls, swinging the door shut behind him. “Preferably clothed.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I stay in my new pair of jeans but put on a fresh T-shirt under my Christmas sweater. I don’t bother doing anything with my hair, leaving it damp around my shoulders and risking the chill. I still have Andrew’s scarf from when he gave it to me in Chicago and, after a moment’s hesitation, I wrap it around my neck and tuck it into my coat.
Oliver and Andrew are waiting for me by the front door when I come down. Oliver’s dressed like he’s going to some fancy restaurant and Andrew is dressed like Andrew. He’s swapped his heavy Chicago coat for one of Oliver’s and his camera bag is slung over one shoulder. I try not to stare at him as I come down, but I don’t miss the way his eyes flick to his scarf when I appear. I expect him to ask for it back, but a hint of satisfaction flickers across his face, as though he’s pleased to see me wearing it.
“Beautiful!” Oliver declares when I hit the bottom step. “You descend the stairs like you were born to.”
“Huh?”
Andrew just shakes his head as Oliver picks up a black backpack I hadn’t noticed before.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask as he tugs it on.
“I thought we could see the lights,” he says vaguely. “And then I have one quick pit stop to make so I can drop something off and then… pub?”
The thought of a cozy English pub where I can plonk myself next to a fire isn’t the worst idea in the world, but I glance at Andrew, ready to say no. He’s expecting it and just winks at me, before giving a look that says,I told you it was fine. And he did, but still, there’s no need to make it any harder on the man. With everything that’s happened in the last few days, he’s probably hoping I’ve forgotten all about his casual “I’m sober now” bomb, but it’s something we’re going to have to talk about at some point.
Now, however, is not that time and so I try and push it from my mind as Oliver shepherds us out the door. As soon as we hit Portobello Road, I see instantly what he means by “lights.” I hadn’t noticed the decorations in the taxi, mostly because it was daytime, and they were all off. But now the narrow, winding streets are lit up. Strings of fairy lights crisscross overhead and the houses get solidly merrier as we move away from the extremely posh to the moderately posh. Warm golden glows give way to multicolored bonanzas that I can’t help but smile at as we make our way slowly through the crowds.
Oliver doesn’t seem in a rush and is practically indulgent as he lets Andrew take pictures of the houses and storefronts, the packed restaurants, and pubs. He even makes him take pictures of him, posing regally around the town until Andrew threatens to only send him the bad ones.
Oliver’s kind of hilarious. Just on the edge of annoying. But he seems genuinely happy to have Andrew there and me by extension, asking about my life in Chicago and my childhood in Dublin, as well as buying me a fragrant mulled wine from one of the stalls dotted around. It’s the first bit of Christmas fun that I could see myself getting used to and the way Andrew keeps smiling at me every time Oliver makes me laugh makes it all the better.
Eventually, we leave the brightly lit streets behind, moving into a quieter, more residential area. It’s not as fancy as where Oliver is staying, I can tell most of these houses are split into separate apartments, but it’s nice and peaceful and, through the open curtains of many rooms, I spy young families and groups of friends sitting around dining tables. I assume he’s taking us to some small neighborhood pub, and so am surprised when he comes to a stop in front of a tiny red-brick house halfway down the street.
It’s at the end of a small row of houses, with a narrow alleyway in between it and its neighbor. Unlike all the others we’ve passed, it’s completely dark, with no car parked outside.
“We’re here,” he announces, turning to us with a smile.
“We’re where?” Andrew asks, and I’m glad I’m not the only one confused. “Are you house-sitting this one too?”
“Oh no,” Oliver says cheerfully. “This one I’m breaking into.”
“You’re— What?” Andrew hisses the last word as his cousin takes off down the alleyway, vanishing into the shadows. “Oliver!”
