Page 50 of The Date

“You’re here early,” I say, extending my hand to him. “Did you wet the bed?”

“No,” he snaps.

“What’s with the attitude? Did you wake up to coal under your pillow this morning?”

“What?” he asks, frowning.

“Isn’t that what you get from Santa when you’re on his naughty list?”

“Fuck off, cock. I’m on nobody’s naughty list.”

“You’ll be on mine if you keep speaking like that,” Mum chimes in.

“I’m sorry, Mrs K,” he says, which is what he’s called her since we were kids.

No matter how old we get, Christmas morning hasn’t changed. We all congregate here, open gifts, and then Mum cooks us a hot breakfast.

I unload the bag of presents Rose and I brought and place them beneath the tree, making sure to tuck the one I snuck in while she wasn’t looking towards the back.

“Who’s going to be the elf this year?” Mum asks, holding up the ridiculous Christmas hat with pointy ears on each side. I hate that fucking hat with a passion.

“Not me,” I grumble.

Violet sighs. “I did it last year; it’s the boys’ turn.”

Callum and I both groan as Rose pipes up. “Can I be the Christmas elf, please?” She holds her hands together in front of her like she’s praying, asking with way too much enthusiasm. “When I was younger, I always wanted to move to the North Pole and be one of Santa’s helpers. Alas, I grew too tall.”

Callum cracks up, and I smile as I lean in and place a kiss on her temple because, fuck me, she’s adorable.

Mum beams as she hands Rose the stupid hat. “How about we make you the honorary Kingsley Christmas elf from this day forward?”

“But I’m not a Kingsley.”

Yet, I want to say, but don’t.

Later this afternoon, we’re flying to Melbourne to stay with Rose’s parents. We’ll be there until New Year’s Day. I met them when they returned from their cruise and drove up to Sydney to collect their wretched bird. I can’t say I’ve missed that cheeky bastard. Although he certainly was entertaining.

“You’re part of our family,” Mum says as Rose slips the hat onto her head, and, as predicted, she looks sweet. I hope this woman never doubts how much I love her. Every crazy bit.

“Are we doing presents now?” I ask.

“We’re waiting for Greg,” Violet answers.

I hear Callum scoff before he mumbles, “Is George ever on time? Let’s hope he’s not dressed like a clown today.”

My usual happy-go-lucky friend is still there, but moments like this are happening more and more often. Since the last incident, I’ve asked him a couple of times if he’s really sure he doesn’t have feelings for my sister.

Every time, I get the same answer. A firm, unwavering no.

I no longer believe him.

“This one’s for Violet,” Rose announces, practically bouncing across the room as she hands her the card. “I’m not sure who it’s from.”

“It’s from me,” Greg pipes up.

My sister leans over to give him a chaste kiss. “Thanks, babe.”

My eyes flicker to Callum, who’s staring straight at them, looking like he’s two seconds away from bursting an artery.