Page 81 of Holiday Romance
“Shut up,” I groan, but I’m more embarrassed than annoyed. More pleased than embarrassed. And he knows it. The way he looks at me now makes me wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am, which is why the hell have we never tried this whole kissing thing before. Though maybe if we had it wouldn’t have been the same. These feelings felt sudden to me back in Chicago, confusing and strange. But now I can’t help but think that maybe they’re not so sudden after all. Maybe they were more gradual than that. A slowly cresting wave just waiting to break on the shore. Maybe it was always coming. Maybe that’s why it feels so right and the thought of leaving him now, even just for the next few days, has me feeling hollower than I have any right to be.
“Come on,” he says, slipping his gloved hand back into mine. “I want to meander.”
“We’ve been meandering forthree days.”
He doesn’t care.
Andrew makes us walk all the way to the top of the street, which takes twice as long as it should seeing as how he stops at every window display.
Finally, we turn left at the Christmas tree, walking parallel to St Stephen’s Green park. It’s shut for the night, but the line of horse-drawn carriages is still operating outside it and they take turns clopping off with delighted tourists taking videos as they go. We keep moving, past more hotels and pubs and restaurants where people spill out onto the streets and straight into taxis, before completing the block down the quieter and darker Merrion Square. And there, halfway down by the towering government buildings, a woman in a bright pink coat leans against a car, her head bent as she scrolls through her phone.
My sister.
“That’s her,” I say unnecessarily, seeing as she’s the only person around. My steps quicken as excitement bubbles inside and as we draw closer she glances up, waving when she sees us.
Andrew makes a surprised noise behind me. “So, she’s, like,identicalidentical.”
I laugh. “I’ve definitely shown you a picture before.”
“Yeah, but in person it’s…”
A lot. I know that. Zoe and I look the same down to the last freckle at times, though she always kept her hair longer than mine. And of course, now there’s one pretty big difference.
“You’re alive!” she proclaims, throwing her arms wide. I have to step to the side to hug her, her pregnant belly making it impossible to meet her face to face. When I pull back, she grabs my hands, placing them where my soon-to-be nephew rests.
“Meet Logan,” she says.
“I thought it was Patrick.”
“Patrick was last week. Now it’s Logan.”
I smirk. “And next week it will be?”
“I met a really nice Ryan the other day,” she says as her eyes flick behind me.
“Meet Andrew,” I say, welcoming him into the family reunion.
Zoe holds out a hand as though she expects him to kiss it. “Charmed.”
“Would you stop?”
“What? My child needs a father.” She says this while shaking Andrew’s hand, Andrew who isn’t quick enough to mask his confusion.
Her expression turns serious. “He left me when he found out.”
And here we go. “Zoe—”
“I thought I meant something to him, you know? But he left me. Penniless and alone and—”
“She went through a donor,” I say loudly. “And she earns more than I do.”
Zoe huffs. “Spoilsport. I paid a stupid amount of money for a small bit of semen,” she tells him, pinching her fingers together. “A complete rip-off. I was perfectly fine chancing it with a couple of one-night stands but Molly was like ‘Noooo, that’s unethical.’”
“Being the sarcastic twin is all she has,” I say, and Zoe tilts her head, looking at him thoughtfully as she rubs her belly.
“I never had an Andrew on my name list.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping in front of him. As I do, I draw her attention back to me and a smile lights up her face.
