Mack–One Year Later

I’ve never much liked Christmas, but this year is different.

This year, I’m spending Christmas with Nathan. Well, Nathan and Rosie. And Dad and Lorraine.

The family.

I’m not sure that’s how I think of them yet. Maybe I’ll never really think of them that way. Except Nathan.

When I get to the café, Dad’s balancing on a stepladder, putting up the last of the Christmas garlands, Michael Bublé’s playing on the stereo—you can’t beat a bit of Micky Bubbles at Christmas—and Rosie’s behind the counter, wrapping up the sandwich-filling tubs for the day.

“Hi, son.” Dad glances down at me, smiling.

Still not used to that. At some point over the last few months—after our big talk—he began to relax round me a bit more. Stopped looking so goddamned guilty all the time. I smile back, hoping I seem as relaxed to him. I still don’t feel completely comfortable around Dad, but it’s getting easier all the time.

“Where’s Nathan?” I ask.

“Through the back, getting ready for you coming.”

I slip behind the counter, where Rosie’s pottering. She’s pink-cheeked and whistling, a picture of good health. That’s not the whole story, of course. She still has to be careful—always will—with her diet and her meds, but she doesn’t let that stop her doing anything. She’s even started a band with some of her school friends. They’re pretty awful right now, but who knows where they might end up. She’s fierce, my sister.

“Hey you.” I tousle her hair. She’s had it shaved on one side and dyed the ends purple. Dad just about had a fuckin’ canary when he clocked it—I nearly pissed myself laughing when I saw his face.

“Hey you back.” She grins. “So, where are you and Nathan off to then?”

“Out,” I say.

She raises a brow. “Like on a date?”

“Like on a date.”

She grins. “More than a drink in the Bell?”

“Yup,” I confirm, but don’t give her anything more. Tonight’s a surprise for Nathan. He doesn’t know what I’ve got planned. Dad and Lorraine know—I wanted to check they were okay with it first—but they’re sworn to secrecy.

Lorraine cried, of course. but then Lorraine always cries at times like this. Dad was a wee bit freaked to start with, but he soon came round. He loves Nathan. And Rosie will be delighted—of that much I’m sure.

I head into the kitchen to find Nathan removing his apron. It’s half over his head and his T-shirt’s riding up, exposing a delicious slice of his naked chest and stomach. I’m reminded of that first night I met him when he got all tangled up and flustered. He didn’t seem to realise how much I fancied him. That’s so typical of him.

I cross the floor, sliding my arms round his waist, and he starts laughing. Somehow we get him disentangled from the apron and it lands on the floor as my lips meet his.

God, I love kissing Nathan.

I didn’t like kissing before I met him. Difficult to forget how close you’re letting someone get to you when their face is shoved up against your own and you’re sharing breath and spit.

It’s different with Nathan, though. Being close to him like that. I remember the first time he showed me what it could be like. He’d moved in slowly as I’d stared into his eyes, fascinated by all the shades of pale green, gold, and brown. I’d been thinking how amazing it was to draw his scent into my lungs and just hold it there as our lips pressed together and our tongues met.

I’d never felt that way before.

I guess that was one of my first clues.

Nathan leans back in our embrace and considers me. “So,” he says. “Where are you taking me?”

“Guess.”

“The Orchid,” he says, naming our favourite Thai place.

“Nope.”

“Gennaro’s?”

“Nope.”

He laughs. “Tell me then.”

“The Hope & Anchor.”

It’s the only Michelin-starred place for miles around and very expensive. But I want tonight to be memorable.

“Oh?” he says, eyes going wide. “Fancy! What are we celebrating?”

I think of the box in my pocket and what it contains. What I’ll be asking him later. But for now, I just smile.

“Us,” I say. “We’re celebrating us.”