‘No.’
She smirks. ‘I wish I knew someone I could hook you up with. Sadly, my friends are all taken. . . well, except Tamara but she’s not your type.’
I snort. ‘How do you know what my type is? I’m a deeply complex and surprising man.’
She grins. ‘Obviously. But my intuition tells me thatgay as fuckisn’t what you’d normally go for.’ She glances at Alfie to make sure he didn’t see her mouth the F-word.
‘How long are you away for?’ I ask, feeling strangely sad that I won’t see her over Christmas. I’m getting so used to having her around.
‘Back after New Year,’ she replies. ‘Gives Alfie a good break with his grandparents, and well, it gives me a rest too. My bed there has pillows made from clouds.’
I see her glance at Alfie who is three steps ahead, humming quietly to himself.
‘I love him very much, but. . . you know. It’s a lot sometimes.’
I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like trying to bring up a child who has lost his dad while you’re trying to grieve at the same time. I never knew my dad, but I know my mum struggled, even though she hid it well. I want to tell Sarah that I’m sorry for what she’s going through, but I’m also sure that she doesn’t need my pity.
‘A wallet,’ I say, shifting the focus. ‘Matt needs a new wallet.’
She scrunches up her face at the suggestion.
‘Ugh, that’s so boring, no? Like getting socks or something. It’s just so. . . practical.’
I raise my hand to object. ‘I happen to know that he once received a wallet for his birthday, and he adored it. Showed it off to everyone. He still uses it and it’s falling apart, so therefore he needs a new one. I rest my case.’
She still doesn’t look convinced. ‘Really?’
I nod, refraining from telling her that his last wallet was from the only woman alive who has ever broken his heart.
Alfie stops at the pretzel stand and throws his mum apleeaasseelook with those big puppy dog eyes of his. She smiles. ‘OK, but then we shop. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
To his credit, Alfie keeps his word. After wolfing down a cheese pretzel, he happily tags along while Sarah chooses a black leather wallet for Matt and a birthday card which simply reads:
Congrats on getting a card when I could have just texted you!
‘I don’t want to get all mushy,’ she explains before I’ve even mentioned it. ‘Early days. . . you know? Should I get him some booze as well?’
I smile. ‘There was no judgement. You are an insufferably good person. Get him some spiced rum, or something else I can steal and demolish when he’s not looking.’
Sarah stops to buy a hand-knitted scarf for her mum’s Christmas present from Alfie, who is now focused on persuading his mum to buy him hot chocolate.
‘Why don’t I take him for one?’ I suggest as she pays the stallholder. ‘You’ll get around the shops faster without us tagging along.’
‘What a good hubby,’ the stallholder remarks. ‘I’d hold on to that one, love.’
Both Sarah and I turn bright red, awkwardly informing her that we’re not a couple, while I take Alfie by the hand and mutter that I’ll meet Sarah at the coffee shop when she’s done.
As we near the grotto, I feel Alfie pull me to a stop.
‘I need to see Santa again,’ he insists with the same look of desperation I saw the first time we met. He looks so adorable in his Rudolph jumper. I wonder if they make it my size.
‘Um, the grotto is closed, buddy,’ I reply. ‘Even Santa has to sleep.’
‘But I need to thank him,’ he grumbles, shifting from foot to foot. ‘My wish came true. My mum is happy again!’
I’m not sure my heart can stand any more cuteness from this kid, whose current need to thank Santa is outweighing his obvious need to pee, but I take a second to momentarily bask in my own success. However, a dull pang in my chest quickly begins to chip away at my smugness. I might have brought Matt and Sarah together but I’m still the same. . . still alone, instead of with someone great like—
