Page 43 of How We Began

Just had an in-depth discussion about whether we can just turn the oven up. Two votes for yes, two votes for no. It was a turkey stalemate.

Scrabble

“That’s not a word.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Bejesus is a word,” declared Tristan.

He was determined to win at Scrabble through cheating. We’d been playing teams and Ben shook with laughter next to me. Ben and I had creamed them, but that might have been because they spent most of their time snogging. It was bit gross, really.

Every time they started a game of tonsil tennis, Ben and I had to sit there all awkward, smiling shyly at each other like two thirteen-year-olds at a school disco.

I gave up in the end and reached for my phone to switch some music on. We’d belted every Christmas song we knew and Ben said if I put Michael Bublé on again he was leaving.

As I scrolled for a song, Ben stopped my hand, his touch electric and making my heart race.

“Can I play for you?” he asked.

“Uh.” He was standing close. Kissing close. My brain forgot every word it had ever learnt.

“Good. I’ve been practising something.”

He dashed out into the hallway where he’d left his guitar when he arrived.

Guitar in his hand, we settled on the floor, me cross-legged opposite him.

“Something new?” I asked. “Did you write it?” I watched patiently as he tuned the strings. They sounded perfect to me, but then I am tone deaf.

Meredith and Tristan stopped communicating with tongues and watched us on the floor, his hand absently stroking her hair.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve shamelessly stolen it. When it comes to you, I find it hard to find the words.” The bright blue of his gaze thawed my poor frozen heart until it raced. I swallowed hard and then tried coughing to clear the atmosphere.

He started to pick out notes on the strings and I automatically knew what song it was. Tristan must have told him I like it. I stuck my tongue out at Tristan as Ben started to sing, “Here Without You” a Three Doors Down song, but sung much better by Ben. He made it sound like a lament rolling off his tongue.

I cried.

“Why on earth are you crying?” he stopped singing to ask, a frown creasing his face, his fingers still picked out the tune but his attention was focused solely on me. “Was it that bad?”

I shook my head. Was he daft? But then he dated me, so maybe he is daft.

“It was beautiful. Thank you.”

I scrambled from the floor, heading into the kitchen to anoint the roast potatoes with my soggy tears.

Boxing Day

So that was my first and possibly my last Christmas with Benjamin Chambers.

They’ve all gone. I’m back by myself again. Tristan has taken Meredith home to her parents. She looked a little scared at going. And Ben is gone. Again.

The turkey finally gave in to the roasting process at one this morning. I’m impressed by my own lack of culinary skills.

After we’d eaten and were all stuffed to the limits and sitting with our trousers undone, and not in a sexy way, I groaned, “Ugh, my God, too much food! I need to go to bed.”

My eyes automatically found Ben’s. He was watching me.