He sighed, and settled down onto the sofa. The others could finish up. It wasn’t like it was really his family tree anyway.
Previous years had been so much easier. He’d just pitched up after he clocked off work on Christmas Eve and headed straight down to the pub with Tim. Christmas Day itself was a walk in the park compared to all the festive preparations he appeared to be required to take part in this year. Presents, food, booze, Doctor Who, some board game or other, bed. Then straight home again on Boxing Day. Barely thirty-six hours of pseudo-family fun. Easy.
Molly dropped onto the sofa cushion beside him, bringing a cinnamon and pine scented breeze with her. “See? Wasn’t that fun?”
“Masses,” Jake lied. Tucking her bare feet up under her, Molly turned to look at him, and he tried not to shift uncomfortably under her gaze. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I never thought to ask before. But… do you have decorations from your family you’d like to add to the tree?”
Jake blinked in surprise, suddenly very aware that Tim and Dory were being a little too obvious about not listening to not actually be eavesdropping.
“Uh, no. Not really.”
“Because we wouldn’t mind,” Molly went on, earnestly. “I mean, this is your Christmas tree too. Your family celebrations.”
Except it wasn’t, and they both knew it. “Honestly, Moll, there’s nothing.”
“Surely there must have been something? Or are they all on your tree at home? Maybe next year, you can take a look through and pick a few to bring with you?” Why did she have to push things? Always too far, too fast, and usually at the worst possible time.
“I don’t have any of my parents’ decorations any more,” he admitted, and watched Molly’s expression struggle through disbelief to disappointment to confusion.
“You don’t… why?”
“I need more coffee,” Dory announced suddenly, apropos of nothing. “Come on, Tim.”
“What?” Tim looked utterly bemused as his big sister dragged him out of the lounge. Jake gave thanks that at least one member of the Mackenzie family knew when something was none of their damn business. Maybe she could teach her little sister.
Molly settled down a little closer to him, bringing her knees up to her chest so her bare toes pressed against his thighs. Her toenails were painted deep red with tiny silver stars on them. He stared at them for a moment too long before looking away, suddenly swamped with the feeling that the colour of her toenails was weirdly a too personal thing to know about her.
Which, considering he’d had his hands up her top earlier that morning, was completely ridiculous.
“Why didn’t you keep any of your parents’ Christmas decorations, Jake?” Molly asked the question in a softer voice, this time, but it didn’t make him want to answer it any more.
“They weren’t… Christmas with my family wasn’t like the way your family does Christmas, Moll.”
“Molly,” she corrected, obviously unable to stop herself even when she was trying to be sensitive or nice, or whatever the hell it was she was doing. “How do you mean? Were they… I mean, your parents always seemed really nice.”
“They were,” he said simply. “They were good people, who loved me. And I loved them very much, too. But… you might not realise this, Molly, but not everyone feels the same way about Christmas as you guys do.”
Molly’s wide eyes neatly conveyed her complete incomprehension of his words. Jake sighed.
“Look, if my parents were still alive today, this is what would happen. I’d come home on Christmas Eve, after work. My mum would have decorated the house in whatever this year’s colour scheme was, so it looked good for dinner party guests over the holidays, or whatever. I’d have dinner with them, then come over here to grab Tim and go to the pub. Christmas morning we’d have breakfast, open presents, then sit around reading or whatever while Mum cooked Christmas lunch, because she hated having anyone else in the kitchen while she cooked. After dinner, maybe we’d watch a film, then head to bed. And I’d leave to go home again first thing Boxing Day. It would be nice, and we’d enjoy seeing each other, but it wouldn’t be the highlight of any of our years. Whereas here…”
“Christmas matters,” Molly said, emphasis heavy on the second word. “It’s the best part of our year.”
“Right.” Jake didn’t want to admit that, in lots of ways, it had become one of the best parts of his, too, since he started spending it with Molly’s family.
“Is that why you didn’t keep any of the decorations? Because they didn’t mean anything?” She sounded honestly curious, like she really wanted to understand him, his life. Hell, she’d only known him since she was born.
But this… this was something new. And the shift made him uncomfortable.
“Mum changed them every year,” he said with a shrug, wishing she’d just drop the subject. “There was nothing of sentimental value there, so there didn’t seem much point keeping them. When I sold the house, most of their stuff I boxed up to sell or give away. I kept the stuff that had mattered to them, or that had important memories for me.”
“That makes sense.” Molly’s eyebrows furrowed over her pale green eyes, and he wondered if she was any closer to fathoming whatever riddle she thought he presented. “But… what do you put on your tree at home now, then?”
Ah. Jake had a feeling she really wasn’t going to understand this one. “I don’t have a tree. Didn’t seem like there was much point, since I’m here the whole time anyway.”
“This year, yes. But most years you’re only here for forty eight hours or less.”
“Plenty of time to do Christmas.” He sighed as her face fell again. “Molly, please. I love spending Christmas with your family. I’m honoured to be part of your celebrations. But once it’s done… I’m usually ready to get back to work, to be honest.”
“I get that,” she said, although her tone made it clear she thought he was crazy. “But the thing is, Jake… if this is your family Christmas, why do you keep reminding everyone that you’re not part of the family?”
Did he? “Well, it’s the truth.”
Molly shook her head. “Not to us, it isn’t.” Getting to her feet, she held out a hand to him and pulled him up. “Come on. Let’s go see where they’ve got to with that coffee. You’re going to need caffeine before you head to your meeting.”
“True.” After a night of barely sleeping, plus a morning of resisting – or not – Molly’s many temptations, he’d take all the help he could get to get through the rest of the day.
“And then, when you get back, we still need to finish our talk,” she added, already halfway to the door.
Jake groaned. That was definitely going to take more than coffee.
Chapter 9
Christmas Eve always made Molly feel like a child again. The anticipation, the excitement, the friends and family dropping by with gifts and cards, or just to sample Mum’s mince pies. But this year, as she dressed in her favourite red tartan mini kilt and a black sweater with a robin on it, she couldn’t help but wonder how weird it must have been for Jake, coming from a family who didn’t make a big deal of Christmas, to try and fit in with their excess of holiday spirit.
He liked it, she was almost sure. He just still wasn’t sure if he was really allowed to be a part of it.
Running a comb through her hair, Molly braided it away from her face, tucking it into a messy bun at the back, then reached for her make up bag. She wanted to look good today, especially if she might be able to get Jake alone to finish their conversation. Still, she couldn’t help but smile at the knowledge that not only had he wanted her in the dark, unable to see her at all, but he’d had his eyes on her all morning despite her Christmas pyjamas, wild hair and no makeup.
The poor guy didn’t stand a chance.
Downstairs, Jake had left early for his meeting, apparently via the supermarket for a last minute chocolate orange emergency dash on behalf of her mother. Dory and Lucas were in the lounge,
adding one last decoration to the tree – a vintage glass bauble Dory had looked very surprised to see in Lucas’s hand. Tim was hiding in the attic with his laptop, which Molly thought was probably the best place for him, but it left her at a bit of a loss as to what to do. In previous years she’d have been working Christmas Eve, and often Christmas Day itself. All this holiday time was a luxury she wasn’t used to. She supposed she should spend the time wrapping presents, but instead she headed into the kitchen to find her parents.
Her dad was stirring a pan on the stove, the heady scent of spices and alcohol rising up in the steam.
“Mulled wine at eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve morning?” Molly perched on the edge of the kitchen table. “What is the neighbourhood coming to?”