Page 102 of Make You Mine This Christmas

Christopher shakes his head. ‘I’ve barely seen her all night.’

‘She’s sneaky like that,’ Laurel says.

Realising she hasn’t had a wee since they go there, Haf leaves Laurel and Christopher laughing in her wake. The affection is still there, so obvious between them, almost a kind of nostalgia for what once was.

The bathroom is alarmingly elegant, and she’s half tempted to nick the soaps like it’s a fancy hotel, but manages to snap herself out of it before someone spies her.

Kit is still nowhere to be seen. Her absence is an ache to Haf, one that she’s sure will only be cured by finding her. But also,she should probably look for her in case she’s not feeling well. No other reason.

Haf makes her way back upstairs to see if she can spot her in the crowd again. But on this upper floor, she spies an open door that leads outside.

And there, she finds Kit, leaning against the balustrade as she gazes into the night. She is so impossibly beautiful. Her dress pools around her like green light.

Courage, Haf, she thinks.You’ve got to speak to her, clear the air. Set this all right again. Maybe it’ll be easier now that things with her and Laurel are clearer, and that she and Christopher are okay again. This is the last hurdle before she can reach the finish line of a nice Christmas.

Her shoes clack against the stone balcony, startling Kit from her reverie. She turns towards Haf, her eyes brightly reflecting the light from inside the house.

‘Hi,’ Haf says.

‘Hi.’

She turns back to the view, and Haf joins her at the edge. Their breath fogs around them in the icy air. Everything is lit gold, and the twinkle lights remind her of fireflies.

‘Laurel was wondering where you were, so I offered to come find you,’ she explains. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay, you know, just in case.’

Kit looks back at her with soft eyes and a sigh. ‘Well, you found me. I was thinking of trying to steal a cigarette off someone, but everyone seems to be vaping or smoking a cigar.’

Haf opens her purse, and inside is a packet with only one cigarette remaining, and her lucky pink lighter that has somehow lasted years. ‘It’s your lucky night, I guess.’

She and Ambrose often shared a single cigarette on a night out, and she had decided to bring the last one with her for a bitof luck, or some much-needed nicotine if things got really hairy. She always liked to have a backup reason to escape a room.

The flame from the lighter illuminates the soft lines of Kit’s face.

‘Thanks,’ she says, exhaling a cloud into the night air. ‘I know it’s gross. I smoked like a chimney through uni. Everyone did. And sometimes I just crave one.’

‘Me too. The escape and a little break from everything is nice too.’

Kit hmms an agreement.

‘Your dress is lovely,’ Haf says, trying not to say all the bigger, more meaningful, and much more dangerous words that dance on her tongue.

‘Thanks,’ she says, holding her cigarette away from it so she can swirl the emerald green fabric around her. ‘It’s silk chiffon.’

‘It suits you. The dress, but the colour too.’

‘It brings out your eyes,’ she wants to say, but that feels like dangerous territory.

‘I don’t normally wear dresses, really, but Laurel insisted I try this one. She claims it’s something she was sent by a brand, but I’m pretty sure she bought it for me after she saw me looking at it on Instagram a while ago.’ She pauses. ‘Or actually, thinking about it, she probably emailed them and outright asked for it. That would be just like her.’

She does a small adoring laugh as she rubs the fabric between her fingers and smiles. ‘It’s definitely not something I could afford otherwise. Newly qualified architects do well, let’s be real, but notthiswell for just a Christmas party.’

‘That’s a really thoughtful gift,’ says Haf distractedly, searching for pleasantries, because her mind is racing. In the moonlight, Kit is dazzling and Haf can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to slip the straps from Kit’s shoulders, to kiss her bare collarbone. Apparently, since she realised she’sfalling for this woman, her brain has opened the floodgates on all her desperate swooning thoughts and desires. She wishes it would shut up.

‘That’s Laurel. She just really cares about her people. Not everyone, but the people who matter to her, you know? Probably why she made you that dress.’

Kit holds the cigarette towards Haf, and she takes it. A rose of dark brown lipstick dots the end, and she adds her own scarlet colour over the top as she takes a drag.

‘I didn’t think I was quite that important yet. It was just, you know, mutually beneficial.’