chapter twenty-seven

t w e n t y - s e v e n

*

My oldest sister arrives in a fluster five minutes before we serve lunch, five minutes before the celebrations switch over from birthday to Christmas. Her husband, Ben, skids into the house behind her when he almost loses his balance on a patch of ice.

"Happy birthday, Bee!" she cries out, enveloping me in an incense-scented hug, her woolly poncho cape engulfing me in its swathes of fabric. "I'm so sorry we're so late; I wanted to get here early to celebrate with you but"—she pulls away and rolls her eyes, subtly nodding at her husband—"we got a bit caught up with the in-laws."

Ben presses his lips together and nods. "My parents can be a bit intense. It was hard to peel ourselves away from them."

"It doesn't matter; you're here now," I say when my sister lets go of me. "We've got the whole family all together!"

"Not often that happens, eh?" India grins, then her expression morphs into one of sudden shock when she says, "Oh! What's this I hear about you and a boyfriend? Paisley sent me some garbled message that I think she must've written with her toes, but I'm pretty sure the gist of it was ... you have a boyfriend."

"I do," I say. Simple is best. India's eyes widen.

"Is he here?"

"He is."

"Oh my god!" Her hand flies to her mouth. "Why haven't we been introduced already? Why haven't you already told me? Why's he here?"

I'm starting to think I should have just hidden Casper away and waited for my whole family to be in one place before I announced my new relationship status. The whole shebang of explaining to everyone is tiresome, and I've only had to do it a few times.

But I don't have to say anything, because Casper appears behind me, his hand up to wave at my sister. He's still wearing his Santa hat, the pompom on the end bobbing against his cheek, and I want to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck but I just step back and let him take over.

*

Lunch is chaos, but we're only ten minutes late in getting everything ready at the same time, eight of us squashing round the conservatory table with a heater on full blast and festive jumpers to keep us warm. The only time Paisley shuts up is when she has a mouthful of food, and there's plenty to go around – bowls of vegetables, from honey roasted carrots and parsnips to boiled peas and sprouts, and a veritable mountain of pigs in blankets amidst meat and potatoes.

"I think we did all right," Casper whispers, leaning across so his lips almost meet my ear as I reach forward to take a couple of roast potatoes.

"Hashtag smashed it," Paisley says with a wink, piling her plate high and slathering it all in a river of gravy. Casper made that himself, a concoction of instant granules and vegetable water, and a whole host of other flavours I can't pin down. I'm sure I spied a slug of red wine and a dollop of peanut butter at some point.

Whatever it is, it works. Everything works – the meat is almost perfect, only the slightest bit dry, and the broccoli has a bit of crunch. The mash, another Casper job, is thick and creamy, and Mum's nut roast is delicious. It's the kind of meal I don't want to end, even though I know that at some point in the next twenty minutes, I'm going to groan and wish I hadn't eaten so much, and all I'll want to do is sprawl out across a sofa in a semi-comatose state.

There always seem to be at least two or three different conversations going on around the table and I drift between them, dipping into Mum and India catching up before I slip back to my dad and Casper and Ben. The men seem to have congregated around one end of the table, the three who know each other least – Ben's been in the family for years but hasn't spent much time around my dad, and my boyfriend is a totally new, and unexpected, addition.

But everything's okay. Everyone's getting along. My heart feels full and a smile graces my lips when I realise I can relax. It doesn't matter that the boiler's broken or that I've sprung Casper on my entire family because everyone's happy. Everyone's eating and smiling and laughing, and I know that we've done good.

It's four o'clock by the time we peel away from the table, after far too many servings punctuated by cracker pulls and terrible jokes, trivia games and catching up. It's pitch black outside, the sky beyond dark without even a sliver of the moon in sight as I close thick curtains over the window and groan as I throw another log on the crackling fire.

The effort is too much when I'm so overstuffed, just enough energy left to drop onto the only space left in the sitting room, a conveniently empty patch of sofa next to Casper. He drapes a lazy arm around my shoulder and rests his head against mine with a sigh, a bottle of beer hanging limply from his other hand. He doesn't seem to mind being squashed between Mum and me, the other sofa occupied by Ben, India, and Dad, while Paisley and Juneau are sprawled across cushions and blankets on the floor in front of the fire. It's a peaceful moment of togetherness after the rush of lunch and then the opening of a few presents, the deliciously soft blanket over my lap a present from India, and I'm grateful for the lack of pressure to talk.

Sometimes, the best part of Christmas Day is everyone going about their own thing in the same room with the TV on in the background, a family-favourite film on the screen that some of us are watching, others ignoring in favour of reading – Dad and Juneau – or figuring out presents – just Paisley, the only one who still cares about gifts on Christmas Day. Everything I bought has gone down well, worth the time I spent slaving over the wrapping paper.

"I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my life," Casper says with a grunt as he shifts his position, subtly cosying up closer to me. "What is it about Christmas and overindulgence?"

"And birthdays," India points out. She's wrapped up in her husband's arms like it's the most natural position in the world and I realise that, despite not usually being the most hands-on person, I'm mirroring the pose as I lean into Casper's body and relish the feeling of his arm around me.

"I've never really celebrated my birthday before," Casper muses. He doesn't mention the whole never having celebrated Christmas thing, thank goodness – I'm not sure that's a conversation my family's ready to have.

India pauses for a moment as she decides how to react – she's far more measured than Paisley – and lands on a gentle, understated response when she asks, "Has this one been okay so far?"

He purses his lips, his thumb moving in lazy circles over my shoulder, and says, "Pretty sure it's the best of the lot. Something tells me twenty-six is going to be a good year."

"I enjoyed twenty-six," my sister says. Bumping her head against Ben's shoulder, she says, "Met this one at twenty-six. Good year."

"Mmm." Ben smiles and kisses her forehead. "Very good year."

They're disgustingly cute, and beautiful too, the kind of beachy blonde couple that fill magazine photoshoots with a hoard of adorable children and striped polo shirts. Even in my tiny sitting room in the middle of winter, all of us stuffed into too many layers to combat the chill, they look like they belong at a juice bar on a Mediterranean beach, or lounging on the white sands of San Diego.

Casper's hand trails from my shoulder to my collarbone, hidden beneath my thick jumper, and when I meet his gaze, he gives me the kind of soft smile I can't resist. The kind that makes me want to cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss him. But there are a few too many people around right now. That can wait.

But not for long.

*

"We can't leave it so long again," India says as she winds her scarf around her neck and pulls her hair out from under her collar. "No more than a month, okay?"

"Okay," I say with a laugh. "Then you've got to stop being so busy. I'm always around."

"You should come to ours for New Year's." She buttons up her coat and puts her hands on my shoulders. "Do you have plans? You should come! New Year's at ours!"

"I'm in," Juneau pipes up.

"I have plans," Paisley says. "Guy in my year's having a big ass party and I persuaded Dipsy to go to so I might just tell her I'm in love with her."

"Sounds like a plan, Pea," India says, turning back to me. "Can you come? Both of you, of course."

I glance at Casper, who shrugs and says, "Can't say I've got any other plans."

"Then we'll be there," I say, shaking my sister's hands off my shoulders so I can hug her. "Thanks, Indy. That'd be great. We'll bring drinks."

"You only need to bring yourselves." She squeezes me tightly and when Casper offers her a hand to shake, she hugs him too, kissing both of his cheeks. "So nice to meet you, Casper. Really lovely. I'm so glad my baby sister isn't all alone in this house, and you're such a nice guy. I get very good vibes from you."

I don't think she drinks very often and I know she's had at least three glasses of prosecco since lunch; I can smell it on her breath and see it in her eyes, and I can hear it in her words. Ben chuckles and snakes an arm around his wife's waist.

"Great to see you, Beth," he says, "and nice to meet you, Cas. I take it we'll see you on the thirty-first?"

"I think you will," Casper says, shaking Ben's hand and getting pulled in for a man hug.

The goodbyes are a long, drawn-out procedure as my mum fusses around like I won't see her in a couple of days, most likely, and Paisley drags her feet as she picks at the leftovers that we've mostly destroyed already. As I hug my parents, I catch a glimpse of her snaffling a handful of chocolate coins, peeling off the gold foil and stuffing one in her mouth.

"Seeya soon, Bee," she says around a mouthful of chocolate, giving me a one-armed hug. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, Pea. Merry Christmas."

She gives me a finger gun and a grin and playfully punches Casper's shoulder, wishing him a happy birthday too, and after a few more minutes of coat-finding and shoe-grabbing and scarf-winding, the front door shuts.

Casper and I are alone again.

The air feels so still all of a sudden, once my family have dispersed, and all I can hear is the crackle of the fire and the sound of Casper breathing steadily right behind me.

"We totally aced that," he says when I turn around and flop onto the sofa. He drops next to me with a soft thump, making a show of stretching out in a huge yawn and draping his arm around me.

"Mmm. Not too shabby," I agree, shifting so I can lean into him and press my nose to his neck, kissing the soft curve of his shoulder. "How are you, birthday boy?"

He chuckles and tilts my chin to kiss my lips. "Pretty fucking great, birthday girl. How does twenty-five feel?"

"Feels good," I murmur, his stubble tickling my palm. "Thank you so much for today. You were on your best behaviour." I bop the pompom on his hat and slowly tug it off. His hair sticks up in all directions until the static dies down and it flops forward, curling over his forehead. I run my hair through it, holding his gaze.

"Unfortunately, I'm all out of good behaviour now," he says. "Time to be bad."

I can't help the snort of laughter that erupts, breaking the moment when I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a chuckle right as Casper goes in for a kiss. His lips meet my knuckles and a laugh escapes between my fingers. I can see myself reflected in his shining eyes, my red cheeks distorted in the curve of his corneas until he leans closer and his face blurs when the tip of his nose touches mine.

"I really enjoyed today," he whispers. His breath is warm on my lips.

"Does that mean you like Christmas now?"

"No. Well, not exactly," he says. "But ... I get it. I see why you like it. The whole family thing, that's nice."

I kiss him and say, "It's not all about the presents and the Santa hat. I know you think it's a crock of commercial bullshit, but – for me, at least – a huge part of it is family. Getting everyone together, even if it overwhelms me. And, you know, two celebrations for the price of one."

"Three," he points out. "Can't wait to spend next Christmas in New York, by the way."

I chuckle and gently push him off me. "In your dreams."

"That can be your birthday present to me."

"Twenty-seven isn't special enough. You want a New York trip, you're going to have to wait until your thirtieth," I say, scooping my hair over one shoulder. He grins, eyes twinkling, and winks at me.

"You're thinking that far ahead, eh?" Standing up, he does a weird little dance, wiggling his hips as he sashays over to the TV and plucks the remote off the shelf. As the screen comes to life, he holds out his hands to pull me to my feet and sweep me into his dance. His hands are on my hips, his nose mere inches from mine as he starts some kind of slow dance around the coffee table.

"Want to clue me in on the song in your head?"

His hands move up to my waist and then to the base of my spine, his fingers entwined over the small of my back so our bodies have no choice but to touch. "There's no song," he says. "I just wanted to dance with you. Except I can't dance. But we can sway."

The swaying doesn't last long, coming to a stop when we end up hugging in the middle of the room, arms around waists and chins on shoulders.

"'Ana 'ahbik," he murmurs.

My heart swells now that I know what that means, a warm flush rising to my cheeks when I repeat the words to him with my eyes closed, his hair tickling my nose.

"I have one more present for you," Casper says, his hands sliding back to my hips as he pulls away, bringing the long hug to an end. I glance down, and he laughs, tilting my chin up. "Not that, pervert. Not yet, anyway."

I let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling my shoulders and my eyes and ignoring the tingle that rolls through my body at the thought alone – and, now, the anticipation. "What is it?"

He reaches for the remote again and aims it at the TV, and I turn around to see The Holiday loading.

"Oh my god! Did you actively choose a Christmas film? You know this is a Christmas film, right? A disgustingly beautiful and emotional Christmas film?"

Casper grins and leads me back to the sofa, nudging me to sit while he roots out our wine glasses from earlier and tops them up with the last of the bubbly. "I'm well aware. I did some research," he says, chucking the last log on the fire. "This one sounded good. And, I mean, Cameron Diaz and Jude Law? What's not to love?"

Well, shit. I can't tame the grin on my face right now, childish overexcitement bubbling out of me as the film starts and Casper nestles against me.

"Happy birthday, Bethlehem King," he says, clinking his glass against mine and nodding at the screen. "I hope you like this one."

"This is perfect." I plant a kiss on his lips. "Kol sana wenta tayeb, Casper Boutayeb."

His whole face lights up. "Hey! I didn't know you speak Arabic."

"Oh, totally fluent. All the important phrases. Throw anyone in front of me and I can tell them I love them and happy birthday."

"That's all you need to know. Oh, and eid milad majeed."

I take a sip of prosecco, the bubbles fizzing on my tongue. "What does that mean?"

He grazes a hand over the back of my neck, fingers trailing through my hair, and right as the film begins, he says, "Merry Christmas."

*

wow, it's been a while. sorry about that, folks! if you didn't see my broadcast a few days ago, you can find more info there. anyway, i'm hoping to get the last handful of chapters out asap - by the end of the month, ideally, if not before!