“Let’s talk about Christmas,” Callum said. It was December and the two of them were making dinner in his kitchen.
The team had finished their fall tour at the end of October and returned to Atlanta, which was where their home base and offices were. Claire had found a small, furnished apartment to rent for the next few months. Though she and Frank still rehearsed, she found both of their roles changed when they were back “in the office.” Claire had begun to help Alison with more of the logistical planning, contacting local event venues, soliciting donations, lining up speakers and filling in wherever Alison needed help.
The arrangement was working out well for both of the women. Alison had been in a continual state of treading water and Claire was afraid, if she had too much time on her hands, which seemed likely, since Frank only worked part-time when they weren’t traveling, she’d go insane or become depressed.
At the start of the new year, they’d all be traveling overseas for an international tour. Until then, the work was all planning and prepping for next year’s events.
A lot went into each seminar, more than Claire had even realized during her months traveling with the group. She’d seen “the shows,” so to speak, but none of the rehearsals or planning that went into them since she’d joined the team so late.
“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Claire asked. She and Callum had spent Thanksgiving with Mitch at his parents’ home in Savannah. Alison had gone to spend the holiday with her family in Maryland and Mitch had told them he couldn’t bear dealing with his parents and all of their stuffy friends alone. And since neither Callum nor Claire had anyone else to spend the day with, they’d happily agreed to tag along.
Christmas, though, was looming ahead of Claire like a dark cloud ready to burst open with its torrential downpour. Callum was headed back to Ireland to see his family, as he did every year. Mitch and Alison had decided to skip the family drama and escape to Fiji for the week. Frank would be spending his break with his kids in Kansas, and Wyatt was going back to Texas to be with his mom. Gia had finally found a man she could tolerate for more than a few dates, and she and her new beau were going to be spending the holiday with his family in Maine. That left Claire. Alone.
“I’d like you to spend Christmas with me,” Callum said, as he chopped a carrot on a wooden cutting board.
He’d promised to buy vegetables that were pre-cut, so she wouldn’t have to witness any of his choppin’, which always made her nervous, but when she’d arrived, he was already hacking away. “It’s so much cheaper to cut them yourself!” he’d said when she’d given him the evil eye.
“I thought you were going to Ireland,” she said, in reference to his Christmas question. She’d been avoiding the topic with him, fearing she’d burst into tears the moment the holiday was mentioned.
“I am. I’d like you to come with me.”
“To Ireland?” Claire asked, looking up from the onion she was cutting. “You’re kidding.”
“Of course not. Yes, to Ireland. I want you to come with me and meet my family.”
Claire went back to her cutting. “I’d feel like I was imposing.”
“Imposing? Why would you ever think that?”
“Well, you know…a woman they don’t know…crashing at their house for the holiday. Christmas is for families.”
“You and the whole team are part of my family,” Callum said.
“It’s different and you know it. We say that, but we’re not real family or anything.”
“Claire,” Callum said, laying down his knife and turning his chair so he was facing her. “It’s real to me.”
Claire shrugged and continued to cut, not looking up at him. “You’re asking me because you feel sorry for me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Of course it’s true. And that’s fine,” she said. “I feel sorry for me, too.” She tried to smile, but instead, felt the tears well up in her eyes.
“Stop cutting.”
Claire ignored him and continued to chop. The tears were fully falling now, down her cheek and onto the cutting board.
“Stop cutting,” Callum said more firmly, as he grabbed her arm and silenced her hand. “And stop crying.”
“It’s the onions,” Claire said, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
“Look at me.”
Claire kept her chin down, not raising her eyes to meet him.
“Claire, look at me,” he insisted.
Claire slowly lifted her head.
“I’m not asking you to come to Ireland with me for Christmas because I feel sorry for you. Though I fully recognize your situation sucks. I’m asking you to come to Ireland with me for Christmas because I want you there. I want you to meet my family. I want you to see where I grew up. I want to see what crazy tourist attraction you’ll have us visit because you read about it in some tour book.”
Claire smiled, a little, at that thought. She wiped at her cheeks, again, careful to keep the onion juice, which was on her hand, away from her eyes.
“And, more than that, I can’t bear the thought of being away from you for two full weeks.”
“You can’t?”
“Of course I can’t. You and I are together nearly all the time and have been for months now. How would I survive with you not around to tell me what to do?”
Claire gasped. “I do not tell you what to do.”
“How’s my carrot cutting going?”
“You should’ve bought the pre-cut ones.”
“Case in point.” Callum smiled and Claire couldn’t help but smile along with him.
“Listen, Claire,” Callum continued, taking her hand. “I love Ireland, but I wouldn’t love Ireland nearly as much on this trip if you’re not with me. Don’t you understand?”
“Understand what?”
“Don’t you understand, yet, that nothing in my life makes sense without you? Not even my beloved Ireland.”
Claire sighed. She loved this man. Loved him deeply and with all she had in her. She wanted to go to Ireland with him. She hadn’t considered the possibility before, but now that he’d brought it up, she clung to the idea. The holiday would be so much better, so much less lonely, if she were with Callum.
“What if your family doesn’t like me?”
“What’s not to like?” Callum asked.
“Well, you have a point there,” Claire said. “I am pretty fabulous.”
“There’s my lass,” Callum said, his brogue heavy as fudge.
“Can I please cut the rest of the carrots?” she asked.
Callum sighed with a deep, exaggerated breath. “If you must,” he said. “But, do you think I could at least rip up the lettuce?”
“I think I could bear to watch that. As long as you use your hand and not anything sharp.”
“So bossy,” Callum mumbled, but Claire saw him smile as he turned and rolled to the fridge.