Who could argue with that kind of logic? Grinning, Molly lifted her own plastic glass to tap against Jenna’s, sending another waterfall of bubbly over the edges of the overfilled cups. It might be miles away from her dad’s traditional mulled wine, but it was tasty. Molly licked her fingers. No point wasting good Prosecco.
“Ooh, I think you’re giving Bobby from accounts ideas,” Jenna said, eyes wide.
Molly lowered her hand from her mouth. Quickly. “No time for ideas,” she said, checking her watch.
“Are you sure?” Jenna asked, doubtfully. “He’s pretty cute, you know.”
Molly glanced over as casually as she could in the direction of the accounts team. They’d set up some sort of Prosecco fountain with a tower of plastic cups. Not exactly the Great Gatsby champagne saucer tower, especially since the glasses seemed to be held together with zebra print paperclips. Any interest the pretty cute Bobby had displayed had disappeared in the face of experiments with alcohol, and the chances were Jenna had been making it up anyway. Another thing Molly had learned over the last few months; if there was an office drama to be drummed up, Jenna would usually be behind it.
“I’m sure,” Molly said. “Besides, even if I was interested, my train leaves in an hour. I need to head out soon.” Especially given the light snow that had started falling half an hour ago. Her mum had been texting her weather updates all day. The last thing she needed, two days before Christmas, was to get stuck in the snow on a train somewhere. Almost home, but not quite.
She would miss her dad’s mulled wine and mum’s mince pies, for one thing.
Last Christmas, she’d been living at home, but a training course in Manchester had meant she only got home on Christmas Eve – the same day her brother Tim had arrived from Edinburgh. Their sister Dory had flown in from New York with her surprise new boyfriend on Christmas Day.
This year, Mum seemed very keen to have them all home and safe before the twenty-fourth, to avoid any last minute surprises. Especially since it was the first time in seven years that Molly wouldn’t be working either Christmas Day or New Year’s Eve at the Liverpool hotel that had taken her on part-time at sixteen.
Tim was easy; he’d moved back in with their parents when his contract ended in Edinburgh that summer – conveniently two short weeks after Molly moved to London. And Dory and Lucas’s flight should be landing any time now.
It was going to be the perfect family Christmas.
Jenna groaned. “God, how long are you going to be gone again?”
“Until the second of January.” Just like Molly had told her eighty-four times already.
Jenna’s despair grew more dramatic, her drink tilting dangerously close to Molly’s computer. “That’s forever! You’re going to miss everything fun about living in London over the holidays. My New Year’s Eve party most of all! It’s the only place to be in London on December 31st.”
Molly wasn’t entirely convinced Jenna’s party actually rivalled Trafalgar Square or fireworks on the South Bank, but she let her friend keep her illusions. “Sorry.” She gave her an apologetic smile because it was easier than explaining that, actually, there was no place she’d rather be this Christmas than home with her family. Well, her family and Jake.
“You know I’d love to be there,” she went on, “but I’ve got family stuff to do. My sister and her boyfriend will be over from the States, so my parents are planning another big party for New Year’s Eve, since last year’s was such a success.”
Well, for most people anyway. For Molly it had managed to be simultaneously one of the best – and then worst – parties ever. All thanks to Jake Sommers.
Jenna leant in closer, her eyebrows knitting with suspicion. “Your family. That’s the whole and only reason you’re going home for ten long days.”
“Nine and a bit, really.” Just enough time to soak up all the family-ness, that feeling of home, before she came back to London.
“You’re avoiding the question.” Jenna straightened up, her eyes wide, and waved her Prosecco at Molly accusingly. “It’s not your family at all, is it? You’ve got a guy waiting at home for you! It all makes sense now.”
“Jenna, you know I’m single. Unless you count Bing Crosby singing White Christmas on the stereo, the only guys waiting at home for me are my dad and my brother.” Although, she couldn’t deny the rather expensive, definitely lacy and barely there lingerie she’d stuffed into the top of her case that morning, in a last minute fit of optimism.
Jenna kept staring, and Molly felt the lie start to strain and then break inside her. “Well, and Jake, I suppose. But he’s practically family.” Except for how last Christmas, Molly had suddenly looked at Jake in a totally different way to how she looked at Tim, her actual brother.
“A secret family member you’ve never ever mentioned before, even though I’ve heard everything about your brother and sister and your great-aunt Mabel!” Was it the Prosecco or the indignation making Jenna’s voice rise in volume with every word?
“People are staring,” Molly muttered, trying not to catch the eye of any members of their audience. How weird was it that Jenna could be her closest friend in London, and not know about Jake? Lara, her actual best friend, had known him almost as long as Molly had. And had been the first person she’d called on New Year’s Day to tell her everything.
“Then you better start telling me all about Jake, hadn’t you? Before I start asking more questions.” Jenna shouted the last part for extra effect.
Molly downed her Prosecco. “Okay. Fine. Jake is Tim’s best friend – has been since they were, like, five – before I was even born. His parents died when he and Tim were eighteen, just before they left for uni, so Mum and Dad invited him to ours for Christmas that year. He doesn’t have any other family, really, so we’ve just sort of adopted him into ours, ever since.” She shrugged. “He’s part of home for me. No big deal.”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it. He’s like a brother to you. And there’s never been even a hint of anything more between you?”
How did Jenna always manage to zero in on the things Molly didn’t want to admit to? Like the slight lie on her CV about her fluency in French, or the fact that she accidentally kissed Stefan from marketing after one too many tequila shots at the karaoke bar six weeks ago?
“I knew it!” Jenna declared triumphantly. “You’re blushing. Tell all, immediately.”
Dammit! Fair skin and a huge capacity for embarrassment just wasn’t a fair combination.
“Fine.” Molly dumped her empty glass on a passing tray, carried by one of the senior account managers, and snagged another full one. “So we might have kissed. Just a little bit. Last New Year’s Eve.”
Understatement of the year.
“And this New Year’s Eve…?” Jenna leered at her, just a little bit.
Molly shrugged. “Probably nothing. I haven’t seen him since, and we’ve never talked about it. We were both pretty drunk. He might not even remember.”
Even if Molly was never going to forget. How could she? The slide of his hands up her arms, then down to her waist. The heat of his mouth on hers. The strength of his chest, pressing up against her. The wall at her back the only thing holding her up.
No. If Jake had forgotten all of that he wasn’t human. Or – and the thought sent a cold shiver running through her – it hadn’t been as incredible for him.
“I think you’re giving up too easily,” Jenna said, leaning back on her