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I’veno idea how the fuck I expected to find Christmas gifts in this tiny town. After a failed attempt at buying anything decent, I hang around for Cerys despite her protests she can take the bus and I shouldn’t wait.
Once she’s finished, the journey home is silent apart from Ella singing something about snowmen. One line. Repeatedly. Thank fuck the journey is short. Maybe taxi service is something I’ll cross off my list of ‘things I can do to help’.
We arrive outside Mum and Dad’s and I park in the driveway.
“Thank you, Liam,” says Cerys, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“All good.” I want to ask if she’s okay now, but I’m unsure about overstepping boundaries.
Cerys climbs out and walks to the back of the car. I look over my shoulder at Ella, who dozes in her seat, sipper cup of juice in hand and mouth open.
“Do you want me to carry Ella inside?” I ask Cerys as she leans into the car.
“I can manage.”
I climb out and stride around to Cerys. “I’m not suggesting you’re incapable, but do you want me to carry Ella into the house?”
Cerys pauses. “As long as you don’t drop her.”
I’m on the verge of retorting when I spot a small tug of a smile on Cerys’s face. I shake my head and she steps to one side.
Extricating the girl from her car seat is harder than I imagine and once I do, I’m unsure how to hold her. “Shit, kids are heavy when they’re asleep.”
“Liam!” Cerys slaps me on the arm and I pull an apologetic face.
Laying Ella’s dribbling face on my shoulder, we head into the house. The heat hits as hard as the cold did when we walked out of the shops. I call ‘hello’. Nobody’s home. Shaking some hair from my face, I carry Ella upstairs.
Stepping into my old bedroom is strange, especially as Cerys and Ella’s stuff covers all available space. A suitcase lies open in one corner of my room, kid’s clothes flowing out and onto the floor. Cerys crosses towards the window and pulls the curtains closed. I flop Ella onto the bed, probably not as gently as I should; the little girl mumbles and tugs the blanket over her head.
“Okay?” I ask unsure if there’s something else I need to do.
Cerys lingers in the doorway with Ella’s juice cup in her hands and a look in her eyes I recognise. It’s a long time since the strange tension from my teenage years hung in the air, where there’s a doubt over whether either person wants to or should do anything. This hangs heavily in the room now and I’m uncomfortable I’ll fuck up again.
“Umm. Liam.” Cerys extends a hand and touches my hair. “Did you know you have a braid?”
“What? Shit!” I put my hand up too, brushing Cerys’s fingers. A static buzz passes and I fight taking hold of her fingers and kissing them. She drops her hand.
“Have I walked around with that in my hair all day?” I ask, pulling the monstrosity apart with my fingers.
Cerys giggles. “Yes. I thought it was a ‘thing’.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, rock star style.”
I drop my hair. “I’m not Jack Sparrow. I’m a rock star, not a pirate.”
“Ella would prefer you if you were a pirate.”
“How about you? Would you prefer me as a pirate or a rock star?”
She moistens her lips and the intensity grows in the space between. “I’d prefer if you were Liam, my best friend’s grungy big brother with a big heart.”
“I am Liam, the grungy big brother. I’m unsure on the big heart bit.”
“You are, Liam. Not many guys would be this nice to us. I didn’t expect you to put up with Ella when you came home.”
