All I Want for Christmas: a hilarious and heart-warming romance

by Joanna Bolouri

  Spot cocks his head to one side like he’s heard every word, while I fasten my seatbelt again, my heart racing at the sheer madness of what I’m about to do.

  ‘What if she doesn’t want to see me,’ I say, running through a million eventualities in my head. ‘What if I totally misread the signals and she never liked me? What if she’s not in?’

  ‘Calm it, dude. She’ll be packing for her trip to her parents’ house,’ he informs me. ‘She doesn’t leave until tomorrow. Stop worrying.’

  I am worrying though. What if she’s totally over any feelings she might have had for me? What if I ruined everything forever by not telling her how I felt the night before I left for Oxford? What if she blames me for Matt breaking her heart? ‘She might have already met someone else. What if—

  ‘We’re here.’

  Taking a deep breath, I steel myself to exit the car.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘Yes?’ I turn to look at Matt.

  ‘Get out of the fucking car already.’ Matt grins at me.

  I slide out of the car awkwardly and walk up the icy path towards her front door, almost falling on my arse at one point. I take a deep breath and knock.

  I knock again.

  ‘Sarah?’ I yell. ‘It’s me, Nick. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘She’s gone away for Christmas, love.’

  Startled, I look up and see an elderly woman leaning out of the window above. It must be Mrs Grainger.

  ‘Oh. When did she leave?’

  ‘About fifteen minutes ago. You just missed her.’

  God bless intrusive neighbours. I thank her and run back to the car.

  ‘She left about fifteen minutes ago. I need to get to the station.’

  ‘Which one?’ he asks. ‘There are twelve major stations in London.’

  ‘I’m sure she once said that her parents live in Kemble . . .’

  We both start quickly googling, though Matt is decidedly faster with two working hands.

  ‘Paddington!’ he declares. ‘Trains are every hour. Next one is in forty minutes. If we hurry, we’ll make it.’

  Matt breaks at least three rules of the highway code en route, but he’s clearly determined to get me to the station, leaving me to buy an e-ticket to get through the barriers.

  As we reach the drop-off point, Matt wishes me good luck as I sprint from the car, tucking Spot under my fully functional arm. I still have five minutes to spare but I need to find the right platform. By the time I get to the live departure boards, I’m completely red-faced and out of breath. Not the look I was going for.

  My eyes scan the board until I see that the train is platform five, but when I get there, the platform is nearly empty and Sarah and Alfie are nowhere to be seen. They must already be inside.

  With less than two minutes to spare, I jump on board and set Spot down. I start racing through the carriages, eyeballing everyone I pass while Spot happily pads behind me like this is just another normal doggie day for him.

  When I reach the second-to-last carriage, I see them. Sarah is at a little table facing Alfie, whose legs I can see kicking at the side of his seat. She looks amazing, even better than in my head, even though she is wearing a giant jumper and tracksuit bottoms.

  I’m almost right beside her before she looks up and realises it’s me. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. Her mouth literally drops open.

  ‘Nick? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I spoke to Matt,’ I pant. ‘I had to see you.’

  The train conductor starts announcing departure.

  ‘So, Matt sent you to speak for him? Why didn’t he . . . wait, is that your dog?’

  ‘What?’ I spin to see Spot trying to hump the leg of a disgruntled man two rows behind me. I quickly pull Spot away, mouthing my apologies. ‘Oh yes, this is—’

  Suddenly the train begins to move, then abruptly jolts, making me fly forward. I knock my hand against the table, howling in pain, and making the rest of the carriage turn in my direction.

  ‘Shit, sit down,’ she says, moving her bags to her feet. ‘What the hell did you do to your hand?’

  ‘Mum, I think he likes me.’

  We both look at Alfie who’s giggling while Spot licks his face, having jumped on to the seat next to Alfie.

  ‘Don’t let him lick your mouth, sweetie . . . seriously, Nick, what are you doing here?’

  I place my stinging hand on the table and take a deep breath.

  ‘I’m not here to speak for Matt,’ I reply. ‘Although it’s my fault you got involved with him in the first place. And I can’t believe he did that to you. I’m so sorry, Sarah. God, the last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt. If I’d known that he was still in love with Karen—’

  ‘It isn’t your fault, Nick,’ she interjects, lowering her voice in the hope that I’ll also take the hint and follow suit. Alfie isn’t paying attention to us, but it seems at least half a carriage of passengers are.

  ‘Look, I’m fine,’ she continues. ‘Yes, I was angry with Matt . . . well, furious is probably more fitting . . . but it’s been nearly a month since it happened. Besides, he sent me a long text last week, properly explaining everything. I’m not sure anyone knew just how relentlessly heartbroken he was when she left. He kept it hidden well. But I know what it’s like to be in love like that . . .’

  Her voice wobbles and trails off as she focuses on Alfie. I can tell she’s trying to hold it together.

  ‘Look, Matt got the chance to get that love back. I’m certainly not going to hold that against him or you. Besides, dating Matt got me back out there. He made it less scary.’

  ‘Wow,’ I reply. ‘You’re taking this very well. In university, Matt cheated on someone and she threw his laptop out of the window.’

  She laughs. ‘Maybe ten years ago I would have been the same. Listen, I appreciate you trying to do the right thing, or whatever this is, but—’

  ‘No, Sarah, I’m here because I wanted to tell you that—’

  ‘To be honest, Matt actually did me a favour.’

  I stop, confused. ‘He did?’

  She nods. ‘Part of me was relieved when he broke it off. I was also trying to bury feelings for someone else. It’s no wonder we didn’t fully click. Neither of us were honest. We were doomed from the start. But I guess this frees me up to pursue that now.’

  I feel my heart sink. God, I feel so foolish. Here I am, jumping on to trains to tell Sarah I love her, and she’s been in love with someone else the whole time. We are now well out of the station – and it’s an hour until the first stop. Fucking brilliant.

  ‘You had something to tell me?’ she asks.

  I shake my head. I’m such an idiot. I don’t even know how to hide my disappointment right now. I’m not even sure it matters.

  ‘Forget it,’ I mumble, ‘I didn’t realise you were . . . I mean, I’m happy for you. And him. I hope you get—’

  My words fall away as she leans forward and kisses me, her hair falling against my face.

  ‘There is no him, stupid,’ she informs me as she pulls her mouth away. She looks into my eyes. ‘It’s you. It has always been you, Nick.’

  ‘Then why—’ I break away, leaning against the back of the seat, my lips still tingling from her kiss.

  ‘I couldn’t come between you and Matt. He’s your family. And I didn’t know if you liked me back. That night in your room . . .’

  I smile. All this time we’ve both been trying to spare Matt’s feelings when his heart was firmly elsewhere. I take a pause, trying to process everything, but all I can think about is that kiss.

  ‘Please. Say something,’ she implores. ‘You’re leaving me hanging here. Again.’

  ‘Well, I came here to tell you that I’m completely, totally, madly in love with you,’ I say, ‘but you kind of stole my thunder.�
��

  She gives a little shriek and pounces on me, kissing me again like her life depends on it. The woman three seats down gives a gasp, mumbling that this is neither the time, nor the place. The rest of the carriage begins to clap and there are whistles from the less uptight passengers.

  ‘Mum?’

  We turn to see Alfie sitting there looking confused. God, I almost forgot he was there. This must be so weird for him. I unwrap from Sarah and she pulls Alfie in for a huge hug.

  ‘Sorry, sweetie, Nick and I were just . . . um . . . sorting things out.’

  ‘I know what kissing is, Mum.’

  ‘Right . . . of course you do,’ Sarah replies, blushing. ‘Silly me.’

  He pauses for a moment. ‘So . . . does this mean that Nick is coming back now? He didn’t come to see us for ages.’

  Alfie looks up at me with those giant brown eyes and I’m reminded of the first time I saw him. I feel guilt twist in my stomach for letting him down.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alfie. You’re right – I should have come to see you, buddy, but I’m not going anywhere now. I’ll be sticking around if that’s OK with you?’ I smile at him and then look up at Sarah who is beaming at him.

  ‘Can I ask something?’

  ‘Anything! I know this must be confusing and—’

  ‘Why does Spot only have three legs?’

  I laugh out loud because Alfie doesn’t appear to be remotely weirded out by any of this. ‘You know, I think he was born that way. Some dogs are just born cooler . . . you know?’ Spot was actually hit by a car in a rather awful accident that left his leg pulverised, but that seems a little grim, so I decide to keep that detail to myself.

  Sarah spots the food trolley coming down the carriage. ‘Alfie, I’ll give you money for a sandwich. You can share it with Spot, yeah?’

  Alfie agrees and takes Spot by the lead, proudly walking him the fifteen steps to the trolley. Sarah places her hand on my knee.

  ‘That day at the coffee shop . . . why didn’t you just ask me out? When you asked for my number . . . I thought I was giving it to you.’

  I glance over towards Alfie and make sure he’s not within listening distance.

  ‘So, long story short, when Alfie came to see me as Santa, his Christmas wish was for you to be happy again.’

  ‘No way?’ Sarah’s eyes begin to well up and soon tears are spilling down her cheeks.

  I nod. ‘And he made me promise to make his wish come true. And I really wanted to. I thought maybe Matt might bring a little happiness into your life – he’s so dependable and together and loy—’ I think better of my final adjective – ‘a grown-up. Whereas I was a total mess, which was the last thing you needed.’

  She leans in again. ‘You might not have been what I needed, but fuck knows, you were what I wanted, Nick.’

  ‘That’s kinda hot,’ I inform her, grinning.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ She leans in and kisses me again, slower this time.

  Alfie brings back a chicken sandwich which he happily shares with a grateful Spot. I think Alfie might have found a new best friend.

  ‘Mum, is Nick coming to stay at Granny’s for Christmas?’

  She glances at me and bites her lip. ‘I’m sure we could make room for a couple of nights.’

  I smile and take out my phone.

  Keep those beers on ice, mate. I’ll be back for Christmas.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Meeting a girl’s parents is always a nerve-wracking experience, but turning up at their door uninvited is truly terrifying.

  ‘Relax,’ Sarah says as we approach their house, ‘I’ve already texted them. They’re happy to have you.’

  ‘But they’ve never met me,’ I reply, frowning. ‘What if they hate me? What if they hate my dog?’

  Sarah hands the taxi driver a tenner and tells him to keep the change. ‘Well, put it this way: if they do hate you, my mum’s seventy and my dad’s in a wheelchair. You can easily outrun them.’

  I laugh in surprise while Sarah exits the taxi, collecting her bags from the boot of the car. Shit. I don’t even have a toothbrush; this is a terrible idea.

  Sarah’s childhood home is exactly as I expected – utterly charming. A quaint-looking, brightly lit, cream-brick bungalow with blue-trimmed windows and a neatly tended garden. The whole village reminds me of a leafy pre-watershed BBC drama where the local midwife rides a bike, the vicar’s wife runs the village shop and no one’s milk gets nicked from their doorstep.

  Alfie and Spot run ahead, making their presence known by loudly yelling and barking the entire length of the wheelchair-adapted path, something I’m sure the neighbours appreciate at 9pm. As the door opens, I see a tall, thin woman in a long tie-dye dress waving us in.

  ‘Oh, and my parents are total hippies,’ Sarah whispers. ‘I hope you like the smell of patchouli.’

  ‘Sweetheart!’ Sarah’s mum says excitedly. ‘Come in . . . oh my, who’s this handsome chap?’

  ‘Spot,’ Alfie informs her. ‘He has three legs.’

  ‘One more than me,’ she replies as Alfie runs inside. ‘And who do we have here?’

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ Sarah says, hugging her tightly. ‘So, this other handsome fella is Nick.’

  ‘Linda,’ she says, holding out her hand. ‘We’ve heard so much about you.’

  They have? I clumsily shake her hand with my left, while she lifts her glasses to peer at my blood-speckled T-shirt and plaster cast. ‘Tell me, did my daughter do that?’

  ‘Mum!’ Sarah exclaims. ‘Just let us in, it’s freezing!’

  We step inside a porch and then directly into the living room, where Alfie and Spot are sitting with Sarah’s dad. Where Matt’s parents’ living room wouldn’t look out of place in an interior design magazine, this is far more bohemian and homely. There are family pictures everywhere, colourful throws over the couches, a Christmas tree groaning under the weight of the mismatched decorations, and a large wooden coffee table covered with candles in all shapes and sizes.

  ‘There’s my girl,’ Sarah’s dad says, his face lighting up. ‘Seems like we have quite the full house this year.’

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ she chirps in return. ‘This is Nick – Nick, my dad, Stephen.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ I say, making my way across the room to shake his hand. ‘I’m sorry if I’m imposing. This was all very unexpected . . .’

  I feel my cheeks flush slightly as my mind shoots back to Sarah’s mouth on mine. Everything about this day has been unexpected.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he replies. ‘It’s about time we put a face to the name. Any friend of Sarah’s . . .’

  ‘. . . obviously needs their head checked,’ say both Sarah and her mum in unison. I chuckle as Stephen winks at them both before gesturing to Sarah to give him a hug. She obliges, joking that he needs a shave before quietly checking on how he’s been doing and if he needs anything. Their bond is immediately unmistakable and she’s as gentle with him as she is with Alfie.

  I help Sarah take the bags upstairs, where she dumps hers in a pretty pink room before showing me to the spare room.

  ‘Mum and Dad had an extension built round the side, so they sleep there. The upstairs is all ours.’

  She flicks on the light and I’m instantly greeted by a giant stuffed panda perched at the end of the single bed. Who knew they made Duck Tales duvet covers?

  ‘And this is your room. Obviously, Alfie would normally sleep in here,’ she says, turning on a little star-shaped lamp, ‘but . . . well, I wouldn’t want to just jump into bed . . . well, actually, I would but . . . oh God, I’m not good at this, am I?’

  I grin. ‘Listen, it’s your parents’ house, I get it. It’s not a problem. Besides, I’ve slept in weirder places and I once had Fraggle Rock bedcovers . . . why are you staring at me like that?’

  She kicks the door
closed with her foot and kisses me hard, while my functioning hand reaches behind and grasps her hair.

  ‘When we get back to London,’ she whispers, ‘I swear—’

  ‘Nick, can Spot have some of my banana?’

  I pull away and rest my forehead on Sarah’s, quietly laughing while Alfie’s little voice echoes up the stairs. ‘Yes, buddy, just not too much. I’ll be down in a second.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, sighing. ‘Maybe not the best timing but . . .’

  ‘Bit of a recurring theme for us, eh?’ I reply, kissing her forehead. She smirks and attempts to flatten the patch of hair I’ve managed to mess up during our three-second tryst. I take a deep breath to calm my galloping pulse and hope that the rest of my body follows suit.

  We get back downstairs where Alfie is now sitting crossed-legged in front of the television, happily munching on his passion-killing banana. Spot pads over to me and gruffs, indicating that it is well past his dinner time. Along with clothes and toiletries, yet another thing I didn’t consider when agreeing to spend the next couple of days with Sarah. I’m killing this.

  ‘Is there a shop nearby?’ I ask Sarah. ‘He’s hungry, I’ll need to get him some food.’

  ‘Not one that’s open,’ Sarah replies; ‘nearest supermarket is a few miles away. We could—’

  ‘We’ll be eating in twenty minutes,’ Linda interjects, ‘and I’ve never met a dog who doesn’t like chicken. He’ll be fine. Sarah, you can take the car to the supermarket tomorrow and get what you need.’

  Agreeing to wait until morning, we all sit down to eat the slightly strange but nonetheless delicious buffet Linda lays out for us. A large rotisserie chicken, cold potato salad, a nut roast with a salsa sauce, sweet potatoes, a bowl filled with rice and black-eyed beans, full-sized sausages wrapped in bacon, and a sweet curry sauce which looks like vomit but tastes surprisingly good.

  ‘We’ve missed having a dog around here,’ Stephen begins, placing some chicken and rice in a bowl for Alfie. ‘We had a German Shepherd years ago . . . remember Lennon, Sarah. Used to sleep beside your bed.’

  Sarah nods. ‘I remember he ate every single left slipper I ever owned.’