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Underhanded, yes, but I didn't regret it.
It had all worked out exactly how I wanted it to.
“I can't wait to spend our first Christmas together,” I admitted. They were words I'd never thought I'd say out loud. I wasn't known for being the most festive person and this year I would go into the holiday season sober, something totally alien to me, but I also knew I would have her by myself. That was new as well, but God it was welcome. I had the whole day planned, down to every minute detail.
Lola frowned, her eyebrows pinching together. A shadow passed across her face. “Dion,” she whispered.
Something tightened in my chest. “You don't want to spend Christmas day with me here in our home?”
“Our home?” she whispered again.
“Yeah, Lola, the house we share and live together in.” I didn't like the look on her face. “I thought we could spend it together and then I've invited the others around in the evening and…” I trailed off.
One look at her face and I knew I wasn't going to like what she was about to say. Her face was twisted, her lips being bitten by her teeth.
“You don't want to?”
Lola reached for me. “It's not that, Dion. It's just that I'm meant to go home to my mum’s for Christmas. Me and Louis always do it. It's got nothing to do with not wanting to spend it with you.”
Stepping away, I thrust my hands into my pockets. “It's fine.”
“Dion.” She reached for me. “Please don't be mad. I can come home for the evening and–”
I didn't even know why I was so upset, but I was. She wasn't brushing me off. She hadn't even known of our plans, but it felt like a rejection and I'd never been good with those. Maybe it was lack of practice or maybe I was genuinely hurt. I didn't know. All I knew was that I was angry and hurt and some other things I couldn't put a name to.
“You could come with me, to my mums. I need to go up on Christmas eve and–”
I cut her off. “You want me to spend my Christmas with your mother?” My words came out more hostile than I meant them to.
“Sure.” She sounded unsure. “I mean, you would be welcome. It probably wouldn't be fun for you, but I'll be there and Louis will as well this year.” She gave a tinkering, nervous laugh. “So there's bound to be fireworks.”
“Louis fucking hates your mother.”
Her face crumbled. “They just don't see eye to eye, but he doesn't hate her. And Christmas is about being with your family and people you love, don't you think?”
Yeah, I did think, which was the reason I had wanted to spend it with her. And she would rather spend it with a parent who didn't give two shits about her, and for what reason? Because she thought it was the right thing to do?
“I’ll pass on Christmas with the parents, thanks. I’d rather spend it with people who I actually like and love, like you said.” Huffing loudly, I headed back towards the door. My trainers crunched on the wrapping paper. “I'm going to shower and head to bed. Can you clean this shit up before you sleep? I don't want to trip over it in the morning.”
I could feel her eyes on me as I retreated, and it took everything I had not to turn to her and tell her how sorry I was.
But I didn't.
“I do love you, Dion,” she called out after my back.
I didn't turn around.
LOLA
“Well, that was a fucking disaster, wasn't it?” My brother's voice was gruff as he slowed into London traffic. Even on Christmas day, you could expect traffic. I didn't answer him. With my eyes closed, I let the cool glass of the window soothe my sweaty skin.
“Not that I'm surprised. She was never going to welcome me with open arms, was she and then–?”
I cranked open an eye. He had been on a rant for the last few hours. An almost non stop tirade about how unwelcome he felt in his childhood home. It wasn't like I was even really surprised and he shouldn't have been either.
“I'm sorry I got sick.” I closed my eyes again, my stomach rolling with every turn of the tyres. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep, to block out everything that had happened and start again tomorrow.
“I'm not on about you getting Lola sick.” Louis sounded exasperated. “I'm on about her.”
