“What’s next on the agenda of this wholesome family Christmas?” he asks with a smile. I turn toward Alistair, reaching out to take his hand. He twists his fingers around mine, staring into my eyes. “I don’t know. What did your family do on Christmas growing up?” I ask. He lifts his almost empty glass, tossing it down his throat and saying, “Get drunk.” Nash and I lift our glasses and laugh. “Good plan.”
