The Holly Project: A festive fake dating romantic comedy to curl up with this Christmas by Angela Pearse

Author:Angela Pearse [Pearse, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-12T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The rest of the day passes in a blur of Christmas prep. I’m tasked with making chestnut, bacon, and cranberry stuffing for the chicken while Bailey works on his pudding. Various other family members come and go, depending on what they’re bringing to the table, so to speak. At one point, I’m bumping elbows with Hazel as she chops broccoli and carrots. The next, I’m having a conversation with Simon about going vegan.

‘I’m two months in, and it’s been generally OK,’ he says. ‘I haven’t missed meat at all. Christmas will be the true test.’ He eyes the chicken, into which I’m currently ramming stuffing, and licks his lips. I get the feeling most of the nut roast he’s making might end up in the bin.

Someone hooks up a Bluetooth speaker to their phone, and carols tinkle away in the background. Strangely, I don’t mind. Snow is falling outside the window; and in this warm, convivial atmosphere, carols feel appropriate. It’s nicer than having them blasted at you in the shops anyway.

‘We try and do as much as possible on Christmas Eve so we can all relax tomorrow and enjoy it,’ Jennifer tells me, glazing a ham on the other side of the table. ‘No point in everyone being stuck in the kitchen all day.’

‘Hear, hear! I’m all for that,’ says Bailey. ‘Holly, try this and let me know what you think.’

He dips his finger into a caramel-coloured sauce he’s been whisking and proffers it to me.

‘Er, I’ll just use a spoon,’ I say.

‘Don’t be silly. Just taste it.’ He waves his finger in front of my nose, and to stop him from making a fuss, I suck the end of it. A hit of rich, sweet caramel with underlying flavours of rum and spice invades my mouth. It tastes so delicious I can’t help sucking more of his finger to catch the drips.

Bailey watches me, amused. ‘Good, huh?’

Red-faced, I return to my chicken. ‘It’s OK,’ I mumble. ‘Maybe a touch more rum.’

‘On it,’ he says. He bumps his hip gently against mine, and I shift away, confused.

Is he trying to flirt with me? Or is this part of the Holly and Bailey show? I’m the kind of person who doesn’t respond well to ambiguity. It’s too easy for wires to be crossed. I’d prefer to think he doesn’t genuinely like me so I don’t do anything to make a fool of myself. I make a mental note to stay off the alcohol—of any kind.

‘Actually, I wouldn’t add any more rum,’ I tell him quickly. ‘It’s fine as it is.’

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