Page 46 of The Perfect Blend
“Go take a shower. I’m making us some food.” Her tone brooked no argument, and I slunk upstairs and away to the shower, angsty but appreciative deep down that she was there.
I felt marginally better after a shower and flopped into a seat at the dining room table.
“He’s a bastard,” Zoe said.
“What a git,” I agreed.
“A right manipulative piece of work.”
“Utterly hideous.”
And back and forth we went, name calling until the food was ready and we sat down to eat our tea.
“I hate to ask this,” Zoe said halfway through her pasta, “but are you absolutely sure Sharon couldn’t have been mistaken? Maybe she was a distant cousin, or something, that could fit the whole ‘Spencer Family’ thing.”
I looked at her dully across the table. “Wouldyoustand there, with your cousin of the opposite sex, with a child, and say ‘thank you’ when they tell you that you have a beautiful family?”
I saw her think of it and grimace, “No, I guess not.”
“Well, there you go then.”
She huffed, “To think he even got a free bespoke coffee matching service from you.”
I narrowed my eyes and pointed my fork at her, “You’re right. I’ll invoice him for it. At double rates. I hope he chokes on his mocha.”
We finished up and Zoe cleared away the plates and came back to face me, hands on hips.
“Right, you’re fed, you're watered, and you’re very sad. Can I stay the night? Or would you like me to leave?”
My childish urge was to tell her to go away, but I knew that I was better thanks to her being around. And it was so kind of her to offer on Christmas Eve, I knew she needed to be up and at her parent’s bright and early.
“Can you stay?”
“Of course I can. Shall we watch Legally Blonde?”
“Yes please.”
“Good job you said yes, because I brought chocolates. I would have had to eat them all by myself otherwise.”
We put on the film and devoured the whole box of chocolates she had brought. It was Christmas after all, you can eat what you like at Christmas. We also worked our way through a bottle or two of wine.
Legally Blonde was a film full of satisfying moments, and it felt good to be distracted. I always enjoyed the courtroom scene at the end. I mean, who didn’t?
“Because isn't the first cardinal rule of perm maintenance that you're forbidden to wet your hair for at least 24 hours after getting a perm at the risk of deactivating the ammonium thioglycolate?” We chorused along with Elle Woods. Or at least we tried to. Ammonium Thioglycolate was really tricky to say quickly.
By the time the credits rolled, I was feeling a little better. I still felt a bit silly that I had cried so much over such a short romance. It made me feel awful to think of myself as beingthe other woman, and I didn’t want to deal with figuring out what happened next, but I would survive.
We went to bed, and I felt a lot of love knowing I had people looking out for me.
The next day passed in a blur. In the morning I saw Zoe off with a big hug and a ‘Merry Christmas’. The snow had blanketed the outside into a Christmas Wonderland. I got my White Christmas after all, I thought wryly. While it didn’t fill me with the delight it should have, I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of a world muffled by snow. I went inside, set myself up with a Christmas breakfast and video called Dad.
He was celebrating at Nana and Grandad's house over in Spain. They’d moved over for some sun in their retirement, and every year that side of the family went over for Christmas and in the summer holidays too. Since Mum had passed, he’d joined them while I kept going to Aunty Eileen and Uncle Berts. I put on my cheeriest face and smiled and chatted and wished a Merry Christmas to everyone there as I was passed around the room, getting lovely views of half of peoples faces and up my Grandad’s nose.
Then I showered and gave myself a pep talk, transforming into fun Aunty Robin, armed with christmas cheer. Beanie was adorned with her festive collar before we made our way over to Aunt Eileen and Uncle Bert’s. The house was decked up to the rafters as always, looking more like a christmas grotto than a house. Even the kitchen managed to be festive, though I thought it had some potential fire hazards with all the decorations hanging around the stove.
As predicted, Aunt Eileen cried when she saw the gift we had bought from the market. It was placed right in the centre of the windowsill, ‘So that everyone can see it!’ she informed us all happily. The kids were giddy, and Sharon and Aunt Eileen pretended nothing was amiss. I had hoped to keep this mess to myself but when Uncle Bert gave me a sad commiserating pat on the back I knew that it had been too much to hope for. I ate too much, had a comatose afternoon on the sofa, and was home in bed early. I had a lot to think about. Like what I was going to do tomorrow.
Chapter Eighteen
