“Hello, Sarah,” I hear behind me.
Sarah looks over my shoulder. “Jean-Luc! Oh, my God!” He steps forward, then leans down and hugs her. I can hear her giggling, and when she steps back from him, her hands move to her cheeks. “I just—you really grew up. I mean …” She blinks and grins, clearly awestruck by how gorgeous he is. I roll my eyes at her, the dork.
“You also, tu es très belle.”
“All right, you two,” I say, breaking up the meeting of the mutual admiration society. “What needs to come inside?” Sarah goes to her car and from the passenger side, takes out a giant pavlova covered in cream, raspberries and kiwi fruit. “Oh, my God. You made a pav?”
“Of course, I did. It’s your fave.” She gives it to me to carry inside. It’s a dangerous move, because it looks so good, I could quite happily bury my face in it.
I restrain myself. “You’re the best sister ever.”
“Jean-Luc, would you mind?” She indicates two large carry bags on the back seat, both filled with gifts.
“Pas de problème.” He retrieves them from the car with ease, as though Sarah has gift-wrapped boxes of air, and I watch with appreciation as he walks back to the house.
God, he’s gorgeous. I still pinch myself sometimes.
“Okay, that’s it.” I turn at the sound of the car door closing, and Sarah has an overnight bag in one hand and a three-bottle wine carrier in the other. We grin at each other again. “I am so glad you’re home.”
“Me too.”
“And Jean-Luc! I mean … wow, Cat.”
“Yes, he is very ‘wow’.” We share a giggle, conveying a world of sisterly understanding with a simple laugh.
“You girls need a hand?” our dad asks from the front door. We’re in our thirties and he still calls us “girls”. I love that about my dad.
“All good, Dad,” Sarah replies as we start making our way across the lawn. To me, she says, “I’m going to need a friendly ear—not today, but maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure. Everything all right?”
“It is—I guess, it’s just …”
“Is it the whole ‘two boyfriends’ thing?”
“Yep.” She stops walking, so I do too, although I’m worried for the pav if we stay out in this sunshine much longer. “I see Josh in less than a week—and I’m excited! But I’m really nervous too.”
“Of course. I get that. The times Jean-Luc has come to London, or when I’ve gone to Paris, I always get a little nervous right before. And then, when we’re together, all that goes away. It’s just lovely—and normal.”
“You’re probably right. But, Cat, there’s James too.”
“Mmm, yes. How is that going?”
“Good, I mean, we’re in contact, and he arrives late January.” In the absence of having any sort of counsel to offer—because I am really out of my depth here—I simply nod. “I’m going to have to decide, aren’t I?” she adds.
“Yes, you are, but not right now. Not until you’ve seen them both again and you know how you feel, all right?” It’s her turn to nod. “Now, let’s get this pav inside before the cream goes rancid.”
I hope I’ve staved off one of her anxiety attacks; I’d hate for her to get upset on Christmas. Thankfully, her smile returns as we climb the steps. “I still can’t believe you’re here—and with Jean-Luc. Cat, I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me too.” I hold the pavlova precariously with one hand, while opening the screen door with the other.
“Here, darling, I’ll take that.” Dad reappears and relieves me of the pav.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Sarah and I follow him down the hall, Sarah going first. “So, what wine did you bring?” I ask.
“Duh. Bubbles. Lots to celebrate.”
“You’re the best, sis, although I may have had a glass or two waiting for you to get here.”
She barks out a laugh at my expense. “Shocker.”
I enter my parents’ great room—their combined kitchen, dining, lounge—and see my four favourite people milling about—Dad rearranging the contents of the fridge to fit the pavlova, Mum and Sarah hugging hello, and Jean-Luc unpacking Sarah’s gifts under the tree.
I am overcome with love and I’m so exquisitely happy. This is already the best Christmas I’ve ever had.
THE END