Eight

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It is a risk to love. What if it doesn’t work out? Ah, but what if it does? – Peter McWilliams

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Eight
Six years ago – December 24, 2012

“Merry Christmas!” Liam cheered.

I entered the doorway. His warm, cocoa eyes and outgoing smile were just enough to get me in the holiday spirit. He looked even better than usual in his bulky Christmas jumper. Reindeers danced along the printed fabric of his chest.

“Merry Christmas,” I smiled, embracing him in a giant hug. He smelled like he had eaten a dozen candy canes.

Liam allowed me in past him, letting my gaze relax in bewilderment at his house. The blithe home was beautifully decorated with golden fairy lights covering every wall. There were stitched stockings along the fireplace and sparkling snowflakes dangling from the ceilings. Wreaths hung on every door, with freshly-made gingerbread houses on the tables. And a giant, gorgeous tree was placed in the middle of the living room. Glass ornaments hung from every branch, while dozens of presents were underneath it. And the rooms smelled heavenly; the sweet aroma heartily filled me.

Being Christmas Eve, Liam threw a nice, simple party – really more of a get-together. I hadn’t given much thought to dressing up, but decided to go in a crimson red dress that held a heart cut-out in the back. My pure, dark hair was curled, with the subtle scent of my hairspray. And I actually had the patience to do my makeup as well; I had lined my lucent, silver eyes and traced my lips with a rouge lipstick.

The house was filled with the lads, their families, and their closest friends. Each of them was conversing with one another, wishing Merry Christmas’s and Happy Holidays’. I had been a bit bummed knowing that my parents wouldn’t be able to make it; the drive here was greatly long, and the snow was profoundly deep.

Harry’s mother, Anne, was walking towards me with her always beautiful smile. She was wearing a shimmering, emerald holiday dress that looked dazzling on her.

“Alice,” she chimed. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”

Kissing me on the cheek, I mirrored the same greeting and said, “You too. You look lovely. Merry Christmas!”

She grinned. “Where’s Harry?”

I looked around the main room, past the kitchen, and halls. He wasn’t here yet. “I guess he’s running a bit late.”

With her confused expression, she replied, “Oh, but I thought he’d be coming here with you?”

Arching my eyebrow, I responded, “Oh, no. Why would he?”

Anne smiled widely, with her crystal eyes twinkling. “Well he’s always with you, sweetie. I thought by now the two of you would be together.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I remained quiet. My cheeks were feeling exceptionally hot and without-a-doubt flaming red by now. She rubbed my arm and winked before leaving me to talk to Niall’s mom, Maura.

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