Page 71 of The Christmas Catch
“I better get going,” Ali said. “I’ll see you around?”
Morgan nodded. “You will.”
“Say hello to your family, won’t you?” Morgan’s mum told Ali.
Then, just like that, Ali got in the car and drove away.
Morgan felt like she’d lost a limb, but she couldn’t tell her mum. However, watching the red lights of the car fade and turn the corner, Morgan wanted to run after it. Tell Ali to stop and come back. To rethink everything she’d said. To stop and see what was right in front of them. A seed of something that could be pure fried gold.
Her mum’s arm wound around Morgan’s shoulder as they headed back to the house.
Morgan grabbed her suitcase with the other hand, and the wheels rattled along the ground, breaking the neighbourhood’s silence.
“Thank goodness you made it home for Christmas Day.”
“Sorry I missed Dad’s play. How was it?”
“Terrific. Not a single one of those kids fluffed their lines, and nobody threw up in the wings like the past two years. Truly a Christmas miracle. Don’t worry, you can watch the video. Plus, I made sure Annabel saved you the gingerbread house roof to decorate.”
Morgan thought of the gingerbread pub on the backseat of their hire car. She couldn’t hope to do it as well as that, but she’d try her best.
Had she tried her best to tell Ali what she was feeling?
No.
But she would.
CHAPTER24
Ali parked the car in the street round the back of the pub, but sat for a few moments before going in. Leaving Morgan and being strong about their future had been hard, but necessary. She couldn’t go to New York and start afresh with a girlfriend in tow. That wasn’t the deal she’d made with herself.
Even if that girlfriend was Morgan Scott.
Could she?
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Coming home was all about reconnecting with her family, and already Morgan had impacted that promise. She didn’t want that to happen. She was going to be strong and focus on being present with her mum and her sister and everyone else. She was going to talk about her dad, and be in the space where he used to be. She wasn’t going to moon over Morgan.
In fact, if there was one thing Morgan had taught her, it was how to be excited about coming home for Christmas and spending time with her family. Ali should be, too. However, it didn’t stop the nerves creeping up her spine as she stared at the back of the pub. At their adjoining house, and her parents’ bedroom, now just her mum’s. She had to get over it. The only way to do that was to step inside the pub and say hi to her family and friends.
Ali unclicked her seat belt, then checked her hair in the mirror. The bags under her eyes weren’t a surprise after the past two days. She smoothed them upwards and smiled at her reflection. Because even though she was tired, she couldn’t deny Morgan had put a smile on her face. Their night of passion still pulsed in her veins. It had given Ali a tantalising taste of what might be available if she met someone when it was the right place, right time. Morgan had shown her what she was missing. Once she was settled in New York, maybe she’d meet someone out there who made her feel the same.
Or maybe she’d come home and meet Morgan. Was it only Ali who’d wanted to push Morgan into the toilets and fuck her in a cubicle when they’d stopped for a loo break at Keele Services on the M6?
She closed her eyes. That was not for now. Today’s mission was to get back into the bosom of her family. At least, what was left of it.
Tears welled inside, but Ali clamped them down. She would cry this holiday, she knew that. But she didn’t want to arrive with red eyes. There had been enough of that last time she was here. This was a new day, and Ali was going to present her best self. Her real self. The self she’d been daring to think about again ever since Morgan had tapped her awake. Had made her think there could be a happy life again in her future.
Ali blinked. Morgan again? It had only been three days and one steamy, incredible night. Why couldn’t she get her out of her head?
She snapped the mirror back to the car roof, then got out. Ali shivered as the cold air hit her. Then she grabbed her coat and paused, a hand over the gingerbread pub. Should she take that first, or her case? For maximum impact, she chose the gingerbread pub. She didn’t have a front door key, so she’d have to walk through the main bar while carrying this piece of art. She glanced down at The Rising Sun sign on the biscuit pub, then up to the real-life one. She tipped her gaze to the sky.
“This one’s for you, Dad.”
Ali pushed open the wrought-iron gate and stepped carefully down the six large steps into the pub garden. Even though it was December, there was still a smattering of smokers and drinkers. One couple near the door were already slamming tequila shots, and it wasn’t even 7.30pm. The Rising Sun was fitted out with many gas heaters, a huge stretch tent to keep the warm air in and the cold air out, along with bunting, flowers and fairy lights. Plus, now it was Christmas, there was a life-size Santa at the door to the pub, along with mistletoe and paper snowflakes suspended all around. Ali couldn’t help but smile.
She missed this place.
She missed home.
