We smiled at each other until the alarm sounded on his laptop. He didn’t move, but he glanced over at it, his expression wistful.
“You could show your own stuff tonight,” I said slyly. “Tempt them. Whet their appetite. You don’t owe your time to anyone else now.”
“Oh. Oh, I couldn’t.”
But there was that slowly emerging tone to his voice that said, oh-but-wait-a-minute-I-most-definitely-could.
I put all the fabric back on the sofa and nudged him over to the desk, knowing his set-up routine by now.
“Come on. If you need, I’m free to model them for you”—because, right, the house of Versace wasn’t gonna be knocking down my door yet, right? Just don’t tell Kate about it and give her even more ammunition to tease me—“and you can do your selling pitch, but for yourself this time. And while you’re fending off the comments, I’ll start sorting through this lot from the charity shop to find more suitable stuff.”
He sat in his chair, a little dazed. “You think they’ll be interested?”
I reckoned they’d bite his damned hand off, but I was treading carefully to build his confidence. “It’s worth a try.”
Just before he went live, he turned his face up to me, eyes shining. “You have marvellous imagination, Gray. Didn’t I say so?”
“Yeah. And not just in the fashion world, you know,” I said, with another leery waggle of my eyebrows.
His pupils dilated. “Yes. About that. I wanted to say… after the show…”
“Hm?” I lifted his hand and licked a slow stripe on the underside of his wrist until he shuddered.
“Can we make out again?”
“Yes. Yes!” I nodded energetically. We both stared, breath tight, our gazes locked. I took his hand.
“Alec?”
His eyes widened. “Yes?”
“Will you… would you consider… staying with me for Christmas?” Oh God, Kate was never gonna let me forget this, especially if I brought him to Christmas dinner with the family, when they’d thankfully see how not-Nate he was, and anyway he’d charm them all, and Mum would probably try and put him on the top of the tree with all his glitz and glamour—
“Gray?” he said softly, interrupting my panicky, excited thoughts. “Yes. Please. But… won’t I have a lot to be doing here?”
“I’ll help,” I said quickly. “Every day. I finish deliveries early evening. And I know I’ll be working right up until Christmas Eve, but then I finish at lunchtime, and I have holiday until New Year.” More lovely time, more shiny time, and a snug Alec Partridge in bed! my brain kept bleating to the tune of that damn pop song.
“I’d love that, Gray.” He twisted the little pendant back and forth, cheeks pink. His tongue slipped out and ran across his lips. I hardened so fast, I didn’t think the sarong would fit me for a while.
“So, that’s a date?” I asked gruffly.
“That’s a promise,” he answered breathlessly.
I suspected I was grinning like a clown. I was already wondering if I could find the box of Christmas decorations for my apartment, whether I had enough hot chocolate left for two, whether Mum would donate me some of her new sheets because mine were getting a bit threadbare…
Then the laptop burst into the disco opening theme of his podcast, and we both yelped. I spun his chair around so he was facing the screen and darted away to collect all his creations together, ready for the show.
“Welcome to tonight’s vlog,” he announced to his fans as I dashed around the room like a mad thing, his voice high with excitement. “And something very personal, and very special tonight.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and winked. “From both me and My Personal Santa!”
Five
On The Fifth Day Of Christmas
The following evening after work—and for the first time in ages—my van ran smoothly, the radio didn’t cut out with a strangled yelp every few minutes, and bizarrely, I had every traffic light in my favour. I got to Alec’s place a whole half hour earlier than usual.
I ran quickly up the fire escape stairs, humming my own tuneless and never-should-be-heard-outside-the-shower harmony to the Twelve Days of Christmas song. The snow was falling tonight, too, but in a soft, pretty, barely-settling way. My socks stayed dry; the air was fresh, and church bells rang out somewhere in the distance.
It was almost as if the Christmas spirit was looking out for me, for once.
Inside, though, it was barely organised chaos. I stepped over piles and piles of cut fabric, a couple of sewing machines—Alec had told me he’d be calling in supplies from fellow seamstresses/sters, or whatever you called them—and several rolls of plastic wrapping.
Alec sat on the floor, mouth full of pins, sewing applique Christmas trees onto beanie hats. I kissed his cheek gingerly, avoiding the weapons of mass destruction between his lips. But I had the usual burst of delight at seeing him.
He’d been sewing until late the night before, and I wondered if he’d slept at all. I’d left at midnight after falling asleep twice on the sofa: the making out we’d promised ourselves had been seriously curtailed. I told him he’d have to make it up to me over the Christmas holiday, as a joke. Or maybe not. His expression had turned sly in return, so I don’t think he minded.
“How’s it going?” I glanced at my phone. “There’s still an hour until broadcast. What do you want me to do?”
We’d established that I was shit at dressmaking. Or sarong-making: whatever. I even got the scarf parts attached inside out. So, I was on logistics and hot chocolate making.
“This is all I’ve been able to finish,” he said, gesturing to a healthy pile of finished clothing beside him. Every item looked fabulous; each one was unique. They were be-sequinned with sparkly winter motifs, but looked as comfortable and charming as all the stuff I’d worn and loved so far. Then I caught the panic on his face as he gazed up at me.
“Mm cornndoo im,” he said. His eyes were hugely wide, his face pale. Slowly he removed the pins, one by one, so his words were clearer. “I mean, I can’t do it, Gray. I’m confused. I’m tired. What are we doing here?”
I hunkered down, took his face in my hands, and kissed him soundly until his cheeks coloured and a smile was teasing at the edges of his mouth.
“We’re bringing your wonderfulness to the general, fashion-conscious population,” I murmured. “We’re on an adventure, we’re giving it a go. That’s all you can do—that’s all you need do. If it’s too much, tell me and we’ll both go back to what we were doing at the beginning of the week. I will never be disappointed in you.” Dammit, he was already such a hero in my eyes. “But if you can be brave for a little while longer… I’m here with you.”
He swallowed carefully. “You make everything seem possible. How do you do that?”
I shrugged. I’d never had many dreams of my own, so I supposed I couldn’t be discouraged easily. Yeah, the thing with Nate had brought me down, but the much better thing with Alec—it had raised my spirits right up there with climbing Everest, playing at Wembley, or getting through two portions of my sister Kate’s carrot and edamame cheesecake.