Page 3 of Our Bright Christmas Town
“Deal.” He dumped the Bailey’s on my dinner table, running his hand over the surface that I’d sanded down and oiled to bring out the beautiful imperfections in the oak wood. “Nice job with this, by the way. It’s the wreck you got from the yard sale?”
“For a steal, yeah.” I was surprised he remembered—it was three months ago that I’d sent him a picture of the table in its original condition.‘Challenge accepted,’was how I’d captioned it. While he’d asked me to keep him updated on how it was going, I’d chosen not to bother him with my progress. I knew he was busy.
“Could probably make a living out of this,” he told me. “If you ever get tired of installing lamps and painting walls and whatnot.”
I gave him the same answer I’d given Mrs R. “I like feeling useful.”
“Yeah, I know.” Something soft ghosted over his features, then it was gone. “All right, let’s find you a tree.”
We stepped into the bite of the evening air and the obnoxious flashing of some neighbours’ Christmas garland. Our exhalations billowed like smoke. I unlocked my van, and we slid in on opposite sides.
“Lookat you,” Kieran said, teeth sparking in a grin. “Driving your own car like a proper grown-up. Meanwhile, I’m stuck on the Tube in London with all the other suckers.”
“Just for a few more months, though. Until you’re fully qualified.” After that, he was free to roam the world—the sky was the limit for Dr Kieran Hughes, specialty training offers likely to start pouring in soon since he’d apparently impressed some senior consultant. Me, on the other hand? I’d put down roots in the place where we’d grown up.
“True.” He folded himself into the passenger seat.
As soon as I started the car, he fumbled for the radio. Predictably, it warbled Christmas hits, and he happily sang along—no sense of pitch, all heart, and absolutely no shame. He’d always been like that, from the day we’d met when his family moved into town. Nearly two decades ago, wow. He’d waved at me from his bedroom window that faced mine, then proceeded to clamber out onto the roof, no fear, no plan, just raw energy. He’d been the brightest person I’d ever met. Still was.
After half a verse, I gave in and joined him and Michael Bublé, tapping the steering wheel in time to the beat.
“That’s it,” Kieran told me with a nod and a beaming smile. “Feel the Christmas love.”
“Shut it,” I said and didn’t mean it at all.
Mariah Carey was up next becauseof course. I really needed a cheesy reminder of things that rang rather too true, like how all I wanted for Christmas was… yeah, well.
It wasn’t like… God. If I told Kieran, he wouldn’t end our friendship—nothing like that. No, he’d beniceabout it. He’d hug me, maybe even kiss my cheek, his eyes big and sad as he apologised for how he loved me, just not like that. And then he’d go back to London, carefully cradling my poor, stupid heart close to his chest.
No, thanks.
He turned the volume up a notch and threw his head back to belt out the lyrics. After a deep breath, I pushed my wistfulthoughts aside and joined him, mirroring his grin right back at him.
This was enough.
The tree was tallerthan I’d planned—by about six fucking feet,thank you very much, Kieran. Its entire left side looked like it had lost a fight with a lawnmower, which he argued made it just perfect because we could move it closer to the wall so it wouldn’t take over my entire living room.
God, I was such a pushover.
Admittedly, though, the result wasn’t half bad once we’d forced the tree through the doorway and angled it just right. Or maybe that was the Bailey’s talking.
I took another sip and stepped back to assess our work. “Passable.”
“Such praise.” Kieran flattened a hand against his chest, a wry smile curling the corners of his lips.
“Let’s get the decorations sorted, and I might upgrade it to ‘pleasant,’” I said.
“That’s because you insisted on gold and blue baubles. I maintain that the rainbow ones would have let us shoot for fabulous.”
“What’s this—Straight Eye for the Queer Guy?” I asked. At the odd quirk of his mouth, I continued quickly, before he could get in some quip about how he’d be happy to give me some pointers, straight from Dr Love. I did just fine, thanks—had even made it a point to pull where he could see, once in a while, so he would have no reason to suspect I was hung up on him. “Speaking of guys who need a make-over, when’s Dom getting in?”
“Mean, Ash.” Kieran shook his head with just the tiniest of grins.
“Hey, nothing I haven’t said to his face.” I had, at that. Dom had been late in joining our circle of friends, dragged in by Kieran when the two of them bonded over wanting to study medicine. I’d been a jealousprickuntil Kieran sat me down and told me that I was his best mate, so if I truly had a problem with Dom, he’d choose me—always. I’d felt like a proper tool and apologised to Dom the next day. Nowadays, it was mostly good-natured ribbing between us. “His curtain fringe looks like he’s three lads short of a boy band reunion.”
Kieran’s laugh warmed me more than the booze. “Okay, fair. He’s working tonight—last shift before the break. Taking the train home in the morning.”
“You know, I may be missing out on the fancy title, but at least my work doesn’t include all-nighters.”
