The Twelve Dates of Christmas

by Jenny Bayliss

It was to be a death knell to their friendship; there is only a hairsbreadth between adoration and animosity and when the gap closes, it is rarely pretty.

“You prickle when someone tries to pay you a compliment, but you equally prickle when someone understates your worth. Spiky.”

“A man is like an optional extra; you should only take one on when it is beneficial to do so. It’s like refraining from the fourth plate at the all-you-can-eat curry buffet. Just because it’s there, doesn’t mean you have to have it.”

She smiled to herself; the first coffee of the day was a joy unlike any other.

“That man is the bane of my life.” “Matt?” asked Mac. “The one and only.” “He brings out your sparkle,” said Mac. “That’s not sparkle,” Kate corrected. “It’s rage-glitter.”

Of all the holidays, Christmas was the one that replenished her soul and made her feel the most hopeful.

“People confuse nostalgia with love and end up getting divorces or having affairs and all sorts. No, I think if you haven’t kept in touch for twenty years there’s probably a good reason.”

The feeling in her chest was filling the small van; the voice in her head was shouting so loud she worried Matt would hear it. She felt she would burst from the pressure pushing against her ribs, her heart was so full: so full for him. She looked at his long slender hands on the steering wheel. She glanced up at his profile, lit by the headlamps of cars on the other side of the motorway; he squinted slightly as he concentrated on the road. His hair was a shaggy mess of twists and curls. And Kate could no longer deny that she loved him. As impossible and implausible as that love might be, it was love and there was nothing to be done about it.

Unrequited love. This was to be her lot. The ache of it burned through her. This pain; this pain was why she’d tried so hard, for so long, to keep her feelings for Matt locked away.