Page 147 of Under the Mistletoe with You

Christopher

Nash is here?

At first, Christopher worries that he’s imagined Nash being here.That all his hopes and dreams of the last few days have manifested in seeing him everywhere.But no, all the townies see him too, and they go wild, raised glasses being happily waved.

Their eyes meet across the room, but neither man moves, as though they’re both unsure this is really happening.

Whyis he here?Wasn’t leaving the first time hard enough?

The Spanks Squad sidle up to him.

‘Is that him?’Haf hisses.

‘Yes,’ Christopher whispers, at the same time as Ambrose says it very loudly.

‘Well, ding dong, darling,’ says Laurel, who it appears has definitely had a bittoomuch of Thelma’s home-brew spirits.

Ambrose gently takes the glass from her hands.‘I’ll take that, thanks.’

Kit places a hand on his back.‘Go talk to him.’

‘I ...I can’t.’

His heart hammers in his chest, becausewhy?Why is he here?And how dare he come back when he hasn’t spoken to Christopher since he left?

That’s when it hits Christopher finally.Nash isn’t justhere.

He cameback.

Christopher has to find out why.

The world falls away as he crosses the room towards Nash, who hovers in the doorway.He’s never seen Nash likethis, afraid to enter a room or take up space.Normally, that’s Christopher’s problem if anything.

It feels as if the air is sucked out of the room as they get closer.

Gone is the leather jacket or the too-thin fancy sports jacket.Nash stands in a caramel peacoat that reaches his knees, a red scarf at his neck.He looks smart, possibly even purposefully dressed up.

‘Erm.Hello,’ Christopher begins.

‘Hi.’

‘Right.’

He’s not sure what to do or say.Nash waves to someone over Christopher’s shoulder, and when Christopher turns to look, all of the party attendees suddenly turn away, knocking into each other and spilling wine and causing a ruckus.

‘Christ.’

They both laugh, and there’s this tiny moment where Christopher thinks,There it is, there we are.It feels traitorous because he can’t get his hopes up.

Not again.

‘Happy New Year,’ Nash says.

For some reason, the casualness of this spikes his chest.‘It’s not midnight yet,’ Christopher grumbles.

‘Fine, HappyAbout-To-Be-ANew Year.Better?’

‘Yes.How did you know we’d all be here?’