Page 46 of Home to Christmas Island
I feel uneasy about saying hello to his brother, but I guess it’s Christmas so I can’t really avoid it? It feels a little fast. But I suppose Alistair’s already met my entire family. I don’t see a way out of this, so I try to shove down my apprehension. I pull my leggings and sweater back on, fixing my hair in the mirror above Alistair’s dresser. It’s kind of a tangled mess and I wish I’d brought an elastic—or a hairbrush.
I walk back out into the living room and Alistair’s eyes dart to me, his face lighting up. His brother clocks it immediately.
Who are you looking at? Finn demands. Turn this bloody phone around!
Alistair turns the phone, giving me a look that seems to say, Sorry in advance. I recognize Finn from the photo I saw the last time I was here, but I would have recognized him anyway. They look a lot alike, but Alistair’s features are a bit more angular.
Merry Christmas, I wave towards the camera. I’m Florence.
Flor-ence, Finn says in a singsong voice that tells me immediately this guy is trouble. He’s got that same wolf-in-a-henhouse grin that I’ve seen on Alistair’s face before. Aren’t you the beautiful little speed demon that’s been giving my brother such a run for his money?
Alistair groans and says, Okay Finn, lovely talking to you mate, chat later. His brother only laughs as Alistair abruptly ends the call.
Sorry about that, he says with a little laugh. Finn is… Finn.
I snuggle in beside him on the couch, but I notice the time on the clock hanging up on the wall and sigh.
I should get back, it’ll be time to start making Christmas dinner soon. I look up at him and my stomach lurches, but I don’t let myself think about the question too much. Want to come? I say it casually, trying not to show how badly I want him there.
His expression is serious. Are you sure?
The answer comes instantly, easily—Yes.
I sit up as another thought occurs to me. But I should warn you, I had a bit of a fight with Alba yesterday. So, things might be a little tense.
His eyes search my face, his own slowly forming into a frown. About what?
About what happens after the wedding. I can’t make eye contact with him when I finish the sentence, so I pretend to be looking out the window and towards the water instead.
I can feel the question hanging in the air: What does happen after the wedding?
But he doesn’t ask it.
Chapter 20
WHEN WE WALK INTO ALBA and Rose’s house, I can smell that the turkey is already in the oven, which means Uncle Albie’s here. He’s always in charge of the turkey and for good reason—he cooks it perfectly every single time.
I brought a guest, I say, not looking at Alba as we walk into the kitchen. Rose claps and runs over to hug Alistair.
Oh Al, it’s so nice that you’re here, she beams at both of us. When I chance a look at Alba, she’s smiling at Alistair, and it’s not a pretend smile either. Her eyes drift over to me, and we have one of those silent conversations: Truce? I nod. Truce. Relief floods me so fast I almost shudder. I hate fighting with my cousin.
I don’t like coming empty-handed, but Florence assured me there was plenty of food. So I brought some Scottish whisky, if that’s of interest to anyone, Alistair puts the bottle on the kitchen counter. He’d been so adamant about bringing something it actually reminded me of my mother.
Ho ho boy, this is well received, Uncle Albie picks up the bottle to examine it and soon he, Alistair and Alba are all enjoying a glass.
Not a big whisky fan? Alistair asks me, and I can already tell he’s going to tease me about it.
Oh, she can’t handle it since the incident, Uncle Albie says, grinning, and I can only groan out in protest.
Not this story please, I beg, covering my eyes with my hand. Alba is already laughing.
Our little Flora had to learn the hard way that different drinks have different levels of alcohol. And that drinking a bottle of beer isn’t the same as, say, drinking an entire bottle of whisky, my uncle continues, pretending to wince. Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.
How was I supposed to know? I cross my arms in defiance. No one ever told me any differently!
Well, you were only fourteen, if I recall, so it’s not like your mother and I had time to prepare. Always pedal to the metal, our Flora. Albie gestures at Alistair when he says this, winking. Went from never having a sip of alcohol to drinking everything she could get her hands on in a single night.
It’s rough having to get sober at fourteen, Alba jokes.
