Great.
Henry sighed heavily and gave in to gravity, resting his head on the breakfast bar. The very last thing he felt like doing was picking out a Christmas tree. His festive spirit had grown wings and flown away.
In his current mood, he’d end up with some shitty, spindly thing with no needles. But if he didn’t get one today the likelihood was they wouldn’t get one at all since they’d left it to the last minute anyway.
Fuck going on his own though.
Knowing an inquisition was coming his way but not having the energy to care, Henry messaged his sister.
* * *
An hourlater they were on the road. The sky was that ominous heavy white-grey colour that promised snow.
Henry wasn’t in the mood for that either.
Finally they pulled into the garden centre Dom had suggested. Henry had baulked at the idea at first, but Google said it was one of the best near him, so he’d put his pettiness aside and here they were.
It was busy.
Way busier than he’d expected this close to Christmas.
“It’s the eighteenth of December. Shouldn’t everyone have got their trees by now?” He huffed, waiting for someone to leave so he could nab their parking space.
Ella shifted in her seat to stare at him, eyebrows raised.
“What? I’m young, I’m allowed to be behind in these things.” He waved at the couples and families wandering about perusing trees. “What’s their excuse?”
Ella ignored his grumbling. “Why are you in such a pissy mood?”
“I’m not.” He saw her eyes narrow in his periphery and kept his glued to the car reversing in front of them.
“Heard from Dom lately?”
He winced before he could catch himself and Ella sat back in her seat with an “Ahh.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know there’s something wrong with your ‘no-strings’”—she actually used air quotes—“bf, so just tell me and I can commiserate and then call you an arse.”
“What makes you think it’s my fault?”
“Because you’ve got a squirrelly look about you.”
“I have not.” He even felt squirrelly.
“You so do. So either it was your fault, or it wasn’t but you’re blaming yourself anyway.”
“Fuck’s sake, I really hate how you know me so well.”
She laughed, squeezing his arm. “No you don’t. Hurry up and park, then you can tell Ella all about it.”
Henry grimaced. “Never talk about yourself in the third person again.” He shuddered. “You sound creepy.”
He pulled into the free space and turned the engine off. His very silent phone sat tucked in his pocket. He could just show her the message thread, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it again, let alone show it to someone else. Even his sister.
“Come on, I’ll tell you while we pick a bloody tree.” After locking the car, he fell into step beside her. “It’s pretty boring, though. Don’t get all excited.”
“Nothing is ever boring with you, Hen.”
