Page 62 of Holiday Romance
Andrew makes a choking sound behind me. “Are you serious?”
“Of course not.” His fingers fly across the pad, promptly shutting the beeping off. “You’re too easy to annoy this evening, you know that?”
“Not as easy as you’ll be tomurder,” Andrew snaps, and I wrap a hand around his wrist, squeezing briefly. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.
“Is this your real house?” I ask suspiciously. Oliver laughs, slipping past us back into the living room. Like the yard, it’s a little messy, just as all homes should be, but yet it feels empty. Even more so with the small, bare tree in the corner as though the owner had put it up and didn’t have time to do anything more.
“Who lives here?” I ask, gazing at a photo near me. A tall woman with curly black hair beams out at me, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
“Lara,” Oliver says casually.
“And who is Lara?” Andrew asks when he doesn’t explain further.
Oliver glances between us before he settles back on Andrew with a pleasant smile. “My Molly.” He drops his backpack to the ground as Andrew’s face creases in confusion. Like a clown pulling out a string of handkerchiefs from his pocket, he proceeds to unravel handfuls of homemade Christmas bunting. “You’re tall,” he adds. “You’re in charge of hanging.”
“Oliver—”
“We went to uni together,” he interrupts. “During Freshers’ week, I got drunk and tried to jump off the science building into the lake. She called me an idiot and kneed me in my unmentionables to stop me. We’ve been best friends ever since.” He looks up, his expression unnervingly serious. “Lara loves Christmas and usually has the best-decorated house on the street, but this year her mother is sick and so she is in Berlin by her bedside, where she has been for the past three weeks. They’re both coming back tomorrow and I can’t have her return to an empty, cold house. I simply refuse. And so here we are, decorating it like we’re trying to win a daytime reality TV show.” He hesitates. “If you’ll help me, that is.”
Oh my God. I glance at Andrew with a pleading look that has him rolling his eyes.
“You don’t even like decorations.”
“Now I do.”
He turns to Oliver, ignoring me. “You could have just told us this.”
It’s Oliver’s turn to look confused. “But that wouldn’t have been as fun.”
“Oliver, I swear to—”
“A compromise,” he interrupts, glancing at his watch. “Seeing as how we’re short on time. Thirty minutes tops. Let’s see how much we can get done.”
I pull out a bag of snowflake confetti. “Like a game?”
Andrew drops his head back with a groan, but Oliver just nods, pleased at my interest. “Exactly. I’ll even set a timer.”
“Christ.” Andrew sighs, taking one look at my face and knowing I’m a goner. I don’t really know what the big deal is. This kind of thing seems right up his street, but his scowl only deepens as he straps his camera bag tighter to his chest and looks at his cousin. “Where do we start?”
After a brief discussion, we agree to play to our strengths and I’m put in the charge of the kitchen. Oliver passes me small boxes of party food from the local supermarket, along with novelty cakes and cookies. I put everything away in their respective places, but can’t help but arrange a few plates ready to be eaten for tomorrow. Sparkling apple cider and wine complete the edible portion of the décor and, by the time I turn back to the front room, the place has been transformed.
The bunting hangs cheerfully over the open fireplace along with dozens of fairy lights emitting a soft, warm glow. A different, colored set is strung around the tree, which Andrew is in the middle of decorating, a look of fierce concentration on his face as he tries to space out the baubles. Oliver is on stocking duty, stuffing the two he’s taped to the mantlepiece with more treats.
I’m not exactly experienced in this kind of thing, but figure it can’t be too hard and do my best with the last of the decorations, little Santa Claus figurines and glittering snowflakes. By the time we’re done, the place couldn’t look more different than where Oliver’s staying. The ornaments are mismatched both in tone and style, giving the room a chaotic feel, but one that can’t help but make you smile. It looks like a festive fever dream. It should be my nightmare, but it’s kind of… fun. Not that I’m going to tell Andrew that.
“I’m taking all the credit, by the way,” Oliver says as he stuffs the leftover packaging back into his bag. “Neither of you were here. All me.”
“What a surprise.” Andrew straightens from where he sits by the window. “Happy?” he asks.
“Deliriously so. Just one final thing.” Gently, almost reverently, he places one small, wrapped present under the tree, arranging the tag just so.To Lara, it says and knowing what he got her immediately becomes the most important thing in my entire life. Against all odds, I manage to keep my mouth shut.
“Thank you very much for all your help,” he says after a moment. “Even if I did initially trick you into it.”
I nudge Andrew with my elbow and he sighs.
“We’re happy to help,” he says, only a little reluctantly. “Though next time, I’d prefer if you—”
He breaks off as flashing blue lights sweep suddenly across the front room. “Oliver—”
