Page 3 of The Christmas Catch
She hadn’t drunk enough for this bar.
“What festive tradition we got from the Dutch,” Tobias told her. He drained his previous glass and gave Sasha a smug grin.
“And obviously, I’m hating every minute,” Sasha told her.
“Obviously,” Ali replied.
The music in the bar changed to Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’, and an accompanying cheer went up all around. She tried to ignore the table behind, but it wasn’t easy. Ali put a hand on her beer. Every time they slammed their table, her beer vibrated.
Both Tobias and Sasha temporarily paused their chat as their eyes widened at whatever was happening behind Ali. When she twisted to look, their booth neighbours stood on their seats, belting out the words to the Christmas classic as if theywereGeorge Michael. Ali didn’t want to be the bearer of bad tidings—you only brought good tidings at Christmas, right?—but they were more on the level of Andrew Ridgeley than George.
“Is the tradition we inherited getting pissed up at Christmas parties and murdering the classics?” Ali turned back to face her friends.
Tobias snorted. “No, but good try. I think we made that tradition up all by ourselves.”
Sasha shrugged, then sipped her beer. Last year, she wouldn’t have been seen dead drinking it, but the low-calorie version had made it acceptable now. “I give up. And I hate you. Tell us.”
“The tradition we got from the Dutch is leaving out milk and cookies for Santa.” Tobias grinned like it was obvious all along.
“We’d never have guessed that!” Ali slid her fingers under the table to check her bags were still there. They were. All her last-minute Christmas shopping done today, before the long trek home started tomorrow. It was at this time of year she envied her Scottish friends. Their families lived in the same city. Her family lived almost as far away as you could get in the UK, without falling into the sea.
The song ended, and a cheer went up.
Ali turned to see one of their neighbours now in a heap on the floor. One too many festive sherries. She had it all to look forward to back at the family pub, too.
“Ready for your long trip home tomorrow? Final Christmas before your big move?” Tobias’s question snagged her attention back to the here and now.
“No.” She wasn’t even packed yet. “I still have to wrap my presents, so I can’t stay long.”
Sasha rolled her eyes, then tapped a finger on Ali’s wrist. Sasha’s fingernail was painted matte white. “Wrapping presents tipsy is part of Christmas. Stay for another drink, live a little. We won’t see you much next year after you head to New York, will we?”
Ali glanced out the window, where the promised light snow flurries had begun. She gritted her teeth and hoped the airport did the same to the runway.
“You’ll see me plenty. I don’t go until mid-January.”
But first, she had to get home. This Christmas was going to be strange, but she was determined to make it as near to normal as possible. Even if it was impossibly different already.
“What time’s your flight?” Tobias asked.
“Midday.”
He held up his beer. “A toast, then. To us all having a merry Christmas. But especially me, living it up in Ali’s flat. Me, Snowy, andThe Holidayon repeat.”
Tobias was cat-sitting for the next week while Ali was away. If he survived and didn’t kill her cat or burn her flat down, he was moving in permanently next year.
She clinked his beer, but held him in place with her stare. “It’s a very serious business looking after Snowy. She’s a delicate creature, like her owner.” Ali paused. “And I hate to reiterate this, but I fear it needs saying. No having sex in my bed while I’m away.”
Tobias gave her a butter-wouldn’t-melt look. “Only with myself, I promise.”
* * *
Ali wrinkledher nose and filled Snowy’s bowl full of Whiskas, ignoring the grim smell. Then she got Snowy’s biscuits and rattled the metal tin. Sure enough, her cat appeared in the kitchen in seconds.
“You’re always here for your biscuits, aren’t you, girl?” Ali bent to stroke Snowy’s pure white fur as her cat purred at her feet. Then she put her food on her mat, and Snowy’s attention was fully consumed as she got stuck in. She wasn’t to know this was the last day she’d get to have breakfast with her owner for a week.
Ali walked across her black-and-white chequered kitchen and stared out through her patio doors at the snow-covered grass beyond. It was perfectly festive. She’d love to spend a Christmas here one day. She had a cat, she had a home, but she’d like a girlfriend to share them with. Also, an excuse to stay here. Not that she didn’t love going back to Devon. But she’d like just once to not have to rush around for the holidays. To stay where she was and enjoy the home she’d made. Maybe next year. Or perhaps then, she’d still be in New York City. Her future was wide open.
Snowy’s warm body pressed against her left calf.
