Cosy Christmas ✓

8 / mistletoe and wine

On the morning of the twenty-fifth of December, Connor was woken up in a way that he hadn’t been woken up for a very long time. The last time Cass had bounded into his bedroom on Christmas Day was back in 2011, a ball of energy that she couldn’t suppress. The following year however, he hadn’t seen even an ounce of that excitement, the worst Christmas he could imagine, and every year since he had avoided his family when the season rolled around.

“It’s Christmas Day!” Cass yelled, heading straight for Duke and wrapping her arms around the huge dog, and Connor groaned as he rolled onto his back and scratched his head. “Merry Christmas, Con.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said, two words that rarely left his lips as anything other than a custom. He let out an enormous yawn that forced his face to scrunch up and his back to arch before he bit the bullet and threw back his duvet, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and adjusting the drawstring of his pyjama bottoms as he stood. Before he had got used to being awake, let alone being upright, Cass threw her arms around him and held on tight.

“It’ll be really good,” she said. “I promise. Christmas is a good thing Connor. It’s a celebration of life and love and being surrounded by family and friends and all that.” She let of him, her voice trailing off.

“Does that mean you’re going to see Mum and Dad?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I was going to drive over this evening,” she said. “You know, they’d love it if you came too. That’d make Mum’s day. It’d make her year. She misses you, Con.”

He knew that. He missed her too. It had been almost six months since he had last seen his parents, but of all the days he was prepared to head home, Christmas was not one of them. In fact, of three hundred and sixty-five possible days, it was three hundred and sixty-fifth on his list of days he would most like to go home. 

“I’ll go next week,” he said, and he stretched. He loved his mother, the woman who had given him so much, and he only wished he could do for her half as much as she had done for him but no matter how much time had passed, there was still a flicker of sadness that passed through her eyes when she looked at him, and he noticed it every single time.

“Ok,” Cass said quietly, stepping back. “How was last night?” she asked, moving onto a new topic. “Have fun with lover girl?”

Connor’s eyes widened as he thought back to last night, when Posy had fallen asleep on the sofa before he had been able to take her home, and he had tucked a blanket over her before heading to his own bed. “Shit, I forgot she’s downstairs.”

“Huh?” Cass frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“She slept over,” he said, hurriedly pulling on a jumper over the tank top and flannel bottoms he had slept in. “Not intentionally. She fell asleep and I didn’t want to disturb her. Shit. What time is it?”

“Only eight,” Cass said, twisting her wrist to check her watch. “Twenty-three past eight.”

Connor nodded to himself and scratched his stubble, his mind throwing him back to last night and the heart-stopping rush of Posy’s lips on his and her hands on his neck, and his cheeks warmed. “I’m heading down. You coming?” He scuffed his feet into a pair of slippers and padded downstairs, and he heard Posy’s gentle snores before he made it through the door to the sitting room. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, somehow graceful in the way she slept despite the noise she made, and he let her rest as he headed through to the kitchen with Cass hot on his heels. When he turned around after flicking on the kettle, she was right behind him and he jumped.