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

by Joanna Bolouri

  After a few minutes, I see Matt coming back with the drinks while Sarah brings across a huge birthday cake, complete with five candles. She looks stressed. This is meant to be Alfie’s day and I feel like I’m ruining it. I offer to venture into the soft play area and retrieve him, while they light the candles.

  ‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Alfie. Happy birthday to you!’

  Alfie cannot hide his delight as the entire café joins in to wish him a happy birthday, cheering when he manages to blow out his candles in one fell swoop. Sarah cuts the cake and hands him a piece first before serving the rest of us. My appetite is now at zero, but I take the cake and pick at it while I drink my Coke, reassuring myself that the farm will be closing in an hour and we can all go our separate ways. I’m ready for this to be over.

  As the farm starts to empty, we pay one last visit to see the ponies before walking back to Matt’s car, all thoroughly exhausted. Matt picks up Alfie and carries him over his shoulder.

  ‘We can drop you off,’ Matt says to me, as Alfie rubs his eyes. ‘Jump in.’

  ‘No, it’s cool,’ I reply. ‘Your drive home is long enough. I’ll catch a cab.’

  I lean in and give Alfie a cuddle. ‘Happy birthday, buddy; I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll be back in London before you know it.’

  ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mate,’ Matt says, unlocking the car. ‘Really good to see you.’

  ‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘Speak soon.’

  ‘Bye, Nick,’ Sarah says, while Matt gets Alfie settled into the car. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You too.’

  She hesitates before leaning in to hug me.

  I hold her tightly, just a fraction too long. She pulls back and slides into the car. Our eyes lock briefly through the glass, and I see them beginning to well up before she looks away.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Four Months Later

  I’ll be out of the office from December 22nd to January 3rd and will not be checking email. For urgent enquiries, please contact josephdalton@HLAoxford.co.uk.

  Merry Christmas!

  Nick Harris

  I power down my laptop and slip it into my bag, eager to get going and start my holidays. Even though I no longer live with Matt, his parents have insisted I join them all for Christmas dinner as usual. Spending Christmas alone in Oxford is apparently not an option. I’m not complaining though. A couple of days catching up with Matt in London, followed by a feast in Surrey before I return home sounds like a perfect Christmas.

  As I slide out my chair, I hear a small gruff from under my desk.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ I tell Spot, the three-legged spaniel who’s now sniffing my foot, ‘time to go.’ I stand up and grab my suitcase. ‘I’m off, everyone. Have a brilliant Christmas!’

  ‘You too, Nick,’ yells Briony, her flashing reindeer antlers bobbing frantically on her head. ‘I’ve left a bag of dog treats for Spot by the door!’

  Compared to every other office I’ve worked in, this place is a breath of fresh air. I love it here. There’s no pretention, no bitching, no competitive bullshit and everyone’s role is important and valued, regardless of status. For the first time in maybe forever, I leave work feeling like I’ve made a difference. I mean, playing Santa gave me a warm fuzzy feeling sometimes, but I technically wasn’t responsible for the gifts under the tree. They also let me bring my dog to work here, which is only fair considering they emotionally manipulated me into adopting him after his owner passed away. I let Yvette in accounting rub Spot’s belly while I grab my coat and the little festive pack of chicken-flavoured treats from Briony that he will devour later, hearing jolly Christmas wishes from the rest of the staff as I leave.

  With forty minutes before the 2pm train departs for London, I take Spot for a quick walk and let him poo – the only part of being a dog owner that I’m not entirely enamoured with. The rest is pretty sweet. It turns out I do like dogs after all. Suck it, Debbie, I would have been a total asset to your stupid dog grooming business.

  Living alone for the first time ever has certainly been an eye-opener. My quest to become an independent man has highlighted the fact that I’m not actually that great at being alone, but Spot has made it less solitary. I’ve only had him for four months, but he’s been a brilliant roommate. He’s also an excellent woman magnet, wagging his tail profusely at any female who stops to say hello to his dumb little face.

  Slowly but surely, I’ve made a few friends. Most Fridays the office gang go for drinks at one of the nearby pubs. Plus my supervisor Joe and his wife Clare have basically adopted me, and I have a standing invite to their monthly dinner parties, where they’ll try and pair me off with a variety of oblivious singletons. So far, I have met Sheila, the bank manager; Deborah, the actress; Amber, the insurance underwriter; Imogen, the artisan baker; Charlie, the police officer; and Maggie, the History of Feminism professor. I’ve managed to ward off their advances with my dignity mostly intact. My head just isn’t in the right place for dating at the minute. It might be months since I last saw Sarah, but my heart still aches a little every time I think about her.

  The train ride to Euston is quick and Spot is incredibly well behaved, sitting at my feet and happily allowing everyone to fuss over him and his three legs.

  Matt picks us up at the station in his new company car. Promotion certainly has its perks. Spot bounds towards him, pulling me behind.

  ‘Hello, boy!’ he says, as Spot excitedly jumps up to greet him. ‘You’re looking well-fed.’

  ‘Don’t fat-shame my dog,’ I respond, laughing and leaning in for a hug. ‘How are you, mate? Feels like ages since I’ve seen you.’

  Matt opens the door and lets Spot jump into the back seat. ‘I’m good,’ he replies. ‘When did we last see you? August?’

  I nod. ‘Alfie’s birthday weekend.’

  I’ve only seen Alfie and Sarah the once since I moved, at the farm, and we haven’t spoken since. I still feel like a rat, reneging on my promise to visit Alfie all the time, but it’s for the best. This way I can sleep at night. We get into the car and Matt starts the engine.

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it for your birthday,’ I say as we head towards London Bridge. ‘It’s chaotic being the new kid and all that.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ he insists. ‘You didn’t miss much. It was just the usual gang. Glad you’re here now. Job going well? And how’s the flat?’

  ‘Really well,’ I reply, ‘and the flat is great. Decent-sized bedroom, little garden, private parking for when I eventually get a car. I’m happy. Really happy.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. I have news as well.’

  ‘Really? Like what?’ I ask, my mind already jumping to a million conclusions. I bet he and Sarah are getting married. Fuck, maybe she’s pregnant. I glance at Matt, but he is concentrating on the traffic and his face gives away nothing.

  ‘Let’s grab some beers at the supermarket first. I’ll tell all when we get back to mine. It’s quite the saga.’ He grins sheepishly.

  We pull into Tesco and leave Spot in the car with a window cracked while we nip inside, heading straight for the booze aisle. I grab some cans of Stella while Matt lifts a bottle of rosé wine and some frozen strawberry daiquiri mix.

  ‘Is Sarah coming over?’ I ask, watching him place them in his basket. The familiar feeling of my stomach doing somersaults returns with a vengeance. I wasn’t prepared to see her yet. Does she live with him now? How could he not have told me?

  Matt screws up his face. ‘This isn’t for Sarah.’ He actually blushes. ‘So, that’s what I wanted to speak to you about . . . These are for . . . Karen.’

  ‘Karen who?’

  ‘Karen, Nick. We’re back together. I’m not with Sarah anymore.’

  The beer cans fall from my
hands and hit the floor with a crash that startles everyone except me. It’s impossible to be shocked when you’re already reeling.

  ‘But I thought . . . you guys seemed so happy?’

  He nods. ‘I wanted it to work, believe me; I loved her, I love Alfie, but there was always something missing. I just assumed it was me being, well . . . me. I thought, given enough time, it would just click into place. And then Karen turned up on my doorstep three weeks ago.’

  Matt selects a bottle of champagne while I just stand there. Stunned.

  ‘She had just gotten back from New York and wanted to see me. Nick, the moment I saw her standing there, I just knew. I knew I’d never find the part that was missing with Sarah. Anyway, I invited her in, and the old connection was still there for her too. No matter how hard I tried, I guess I never stopped loving her, mate, and she feels the same. Anyway, long story short, we ended up in bed. God knows I never meant to cheat on Sarah but—’

  My fist connects with his nose before he can finish the sentence and he decks it, immediately snapping me out of my stunned state and into one of panic.

  Everyone in the alcohol aisle has frozen, their mouths open in shock.

  ‘Oh, shit, mate, I’m so sorry!’ I exclaim, helping him off the floor. ‘Shit, shit, shit, I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘What the fuck, Nick?’ he shouts, holding his bloody nose. ‘Jesus, I didn’t cheat on you!’

  As security rushes over to eject us from the store, my hand begins to throb like a bitch. Matt’s nose is streaming blood on to his T-shirt and I feel like such a prick.

  By the time we get to Matt’s car, the bleeding has slowed to a steady trickle, but his nose doesn’t look right. Spot barks from the back seat, happy to see us.

  ‘I think you need a doctor, mate,’ I say, trying to touch his nose, but he winces and steps back.

  ‘Fuck you,’ he says, looking in the wing mirror. ‘What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I repeat. ‘I have no idea what I was thinking. It was just instinct. Sorry, fella.’

  We climb back into the car and sit in silence for a moment before Matt finally says, ‘It’s fine. I deserve it, to be fair. I did a crappy thing. Though, for the record, Sarah took the news better than you did.’

  ‘You told her everything?’ I ask. How can the mere mention of her name still give me butterflies?

  He nods, wiping his face with a clean part of his T-shirt. ‘The next morning, I went to hers and confessed all. I tried to explain about Karen, how she wasn’t just some random fling, but Sarah cut me off and told me to leave. I felt terrible. Still do. I tried to call back the next day, but she wouldn’t pick up. I sent a message to explain everything – she’s read it, but I guess she’s still pretty mad. Which is fair enough.’

  He tentatively touches his nose. ‘Maybe I should get this checked. I think it might be broken. Your hand doesn’t look too hot either.’

  ‘We can’t both sit in Accident and Emergency and leave Spot in the car,’ I say, looking at his little face. ‘You go and get checked out. I’ll wait with him.’

  ‘Karen is at home. She could watch him. She likes dogs. The flat isn’t far from A&E.’

  ‘You’ve moved her in already?’

  ‘No! Relax! She’s just staying in the flat while I go home for Christmas. Her place is being painted.’

  I reluctantly agree and we drive to Matt’s flat, promising a rather concerned-looking Karen that we wouldn’t be long. Matt mumbles something about an accident, while I sheepishly try to hide my huge, swollen hand from view.

  A&E is relatively quiet and after we give our details, we take a seat across from a woman with a nasty burn on her hand and an elderly man who’s coughing so hard his eyes are watering.

  ‘So why didn’t you tell me any of this was happening?’ I ask. ‘I live an hour and a half away, not on the fucking moon. This is pretty fairly bloody massive news, mate.’

  Matt sighs. ‘I didn’t exactly want to broadcast that I was a cheating scumbag. Even to you. You’re in Oxford, living like a monk, celibate—’

  ‘I’m not fucking celibate!’ I splutter indignantly, though after almost a year, it’s starting to feel that way.

  ‘– impoverished and helping the needy, and I’m working a cushy corporate job and cheating on a widowed single mum. I couldn’t handle the thought of you judging me when I already felt like a total dickhead. I figured you would find out soon enough anyway – though if I’d known how you were gonna take it, then I definitely would have broken the news over the phone. I guess I also thought Sarah might have told you?’

  ‘Why?’ I ask.

  ‘You guys were close. I just assumed you still kept in touch.’

  ‘Nah,’ I reply, feeling uncomfortable. ‘I’ve just been so busy, you know, and we weren’t really that close . . .’

  ‘Hmm,’ he responds, touching his nose again. ‘My nose might be broken, but I can still smell bullshit.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. I try my best not to look alarmed.

  ‘You weren’t really that close? That right hook of yours suggests otherwise. You don’t throw a punch like that without some feeling behind it.’

  I look at Matt and realise it’s game over.

  ‘So maybe there were small feelings,’ I admit. ‘Like . . . more-than-friend type feelings.’

  Matt’s eyebrows head skywards. ‘Seriously? On whose side?’

  ‘Mine . . . maybe hers . . . I don’t know. I never really found out. Not properly.’

  ‘Jesus, Nick. How am I the one that got punched in this scenario? If you didn’t have a hand the size of a fucking cauliflower you would seriously be getting your ass kicked right now. Why would you set me up with her if you liked her, for God’s sake?’ Matt is looking at me incredulously and his voice has gone up an octave. The woman with the burn is now listening intently, her mouth slightly open.

  ‘Well, I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with her, did I?’ I mumble, aware of burn lady’s stare.

  Jesus, Matt’s eyebrows are nearly in his hairline now. His jaw is working overtime, his teeth clenching and unclenching as he breathes out. I think he might yet decide to knock me out.

  ‘Wait. Let me get this straight: you were in love with my girlfriend? Are you fucking kidding?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I reply. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

  He is silent for a moment, absorbing the news.

  ‘I have a question,’ he finally asks. ‘That night at your leaving party. When I walked into the bedroom and Sarah was crying, was that . . . did you—’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ I quickly interject. ‘We were just talking. She asked if we were just friends. You and Alfie came in before I could really say anything, but I promise, Matt, I would never have done anything to ruin our friendship, or your relationship. I swear.’

  ‘Matt Buckley?’

  Matt stands, shakes his head at me, then follows the nurse to the treatment area, while I wait with Miss Nosy Burn, who’s now feigning interest in her magazine again. This whole day feels surreal. I punched my best friend, told him I had feelings for his girlfriend and have potentially ruined my relationship with him forever.

  Before I have time to contemplate this further, a second nurse calls my name and I take my rapidly swelling hand through the double doors.

  Forty-five minutes later, we’re back in the car. Thankfully Matt only has swelling and bruising, whereas I have a hand in a plaster cast and a prescription for heavy-duty painkillers. Matt finds this amusing.

  ‘Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that you ended up worse off than me and I’m the one who got punched. My nose broke your hand. You are a ridiculous person, Nick Harris.’

  ‘I still feel shit about it . . .’ I say, attempt
ing to open a bottle of water with my left hand.

  ‘Well, don’t,’ he replies, still chuckling. ‘You’re suffering enough.’

  He starts the car and texts Karen to let her know we’re on our way back.

  ‘So, I have another question,’ Matt says as he opens my bottle for me, taking a swig. I feel my pulse start to race again. What else does he want to know?

  ‘OK . . .’

  ‘Why the hell is your dog called Spot?’

  I start to laugh. ‘No idea. His previous owner named him. It’s what he answers to.’

  Matt chuckles. ‘Fair enough. It’s just been bugging me.’

  As we turn into Matt’s street, he pulls up at the kerb and turns off the engine.

  ‘I do have one more actual question,’ he says, checking his eye in the mirror. ‘Your feelings for Sarah. When did they start?’

  I pause for a second and think. ‘Honestly? Your birthday party. God, I know how that sounds, but you wanted the truth.’

  ‘I guess there’s only one thing left to do,’ he says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  Oh God, he’s going to punch me back. I pre-emptively close my eyes and brace for impact.

  ‘You need to go and tell her.’

  I open one eye cautiously. ‘Tell her what?’

  ‘Tell her that you love her. Idiot.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sarah’s flat is a twenty-minute drive from Matt’s, however, when I try and fail to summon an Uber with my left hand, Matt rolls his eyes and tells me to put my phone away.

  ‘Wait here.’ He nips inside his flat first and returns with Spot in tow.

  ‘Karen said he missed you,’ Matt informs me, as we reverse out of the parking space. ‘I got a text when we came out of A&E not so politely requesting that we pick him up pronto. She isn’t as keen on dogs as I first thought. I think he shat in the hall.’