12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter twelve

t w e l v e

*

My plan for the rest of today was to head over to the garden centre ten miles away, renowned for its over the top Christmas displays, where I love to bask in the glow of thousands of fairy lights in every colour and the metres of tinsel draped all over the place. I like to wander amongst the Christmas trees and breathe in the clean scent of fresh pine needles, and treat myself to a hot spiced apple in the cosy little café on site.

But Casper took a day off work because of me. He was so worried that he sacrificed one of his sick days to make sure I was okay, so I won't subject him to my festive plans. Maybe closer to Christmas, I'll have had more success in changing his mind about the holiday, but I don't want to annoy him so today, I'm taking him to lunch away from Saint Wendelin and away from any Christmas trees.

"Am I being kidnapped?" he asks when he realises we're not heading back to my place. Our place?

"That depends how willing you are."

"Well, considering I should be starting an eight-hour shift today and instead I get to sit down and hang out with my new housemate, I'm pretty willing."

"Then it's not a kidnapping."

"Okay." He smiles, one knuckle tapping his window. "So, where are we heading?"

"We're going out for lunch."

"I don't want to get in the way of your plans," he says, turning down the music. I'd usually have my extensive Christmas playlist going, but with him in the car, Radio 2 is playing. "I realise that's a bit impossible, seeing as I'm here and everything, but you can drop me off at the house, if you have errands. Or I can do them with you?"

"No, it's okay, I can do it another day."

"So there is something else you wanted to do today." Casper eyes me, raising his eyebrows. "Look, Beth, I know you think I'm Satan incarnate when it comes to all this Christmas malarkey, but I'm also an incredibly grateful friend who would've been shit out of luck if it wasn't for you. Don't change your plans on my account. Take me along. Or, if your plan is of a more personal nature, drop me off at home."

Home. He thinks of my house as home. I suppose he doesn't really have any other option. Home, for him, has meant Eric's flat for a good year. Unless he has a secret house he's not telling me about, his home is my home.

"All right. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I may live to regret it, but I'm sure." Running a hand through his curls, he stretches out his arms and flexes his fingers over his knees. "I, uh..."

I wait for him to finish his sentence but when there doesn't seem to be an end in sight, I prompt him. "You ... want to reveal that it's all a hoax and you actually love all the festivities?"

"Ha." Casper snorts. "No. Not quite. I was going to say that living with you, even if it's only been three days so far, has made me realise that – and, this is going to sound crazy, I know – but I never really felt like I lived in Eric's flat." He frowns to himself. "That sounds stupid. I loved him and we lived together for a whole year. But, I don't know, it wasn't home."

"Does that mean you feel like you're at home with me?" I ask, skirting around how sad it is that he didn't feel that way with the guy he's admitted he considered marrying.

"Is that weird?" He scratches the back of his neck. "You have a very homely home. Despite the copious, beyond necessary Christmas decorations, of course."