Free Winter Wishes (The Play #1.5) by Karina Halle Page A

dinner, for what I assume is their usual cocktail hour, both Jessica and Donald stick to the alcohol-free mulled wine, while George sips from a tiny glass of Sherry. I know it’s got to help Lachlan that barely anyone is drinking.
    After small talk – rugby and politics – we retire to the kitchen for dinner, with Jessica whipping together a chicken casserole dish that didn’t turn into mush like most casserole does.
    In fact, it reminds me of my mother and the terrible casserole she used to make when I was young. While Jessica’s is creamy and fragrant with sprigs of rosemary, my mother’s was the gelatinous glob of grey mushroom soup goo. Everyone except Toshio and me ate it up. We were the picky ones and after a while it became a running joke that Toshio and I would starve on casserole nights.
    Terrible cooking or not, the memories hit me like a sledgehammer.
    Fuck. Fuck .
    I miss my mom.
    I miss her, deeply, terribly, with every cell inside me.
    I wish she was here. I wish my dad was here too. My brothers. I wish I could just have a normal Christmas with everyone but nothing hurts more than the cold hard truth that that will never happen. Sure, maybe next year I can go back to California and see my brothers but nothing will ever bring our parents back, no matter how hard we wish for it. They say your wishes come true at Christmas time but this one definitely won’t.
    Lachlan leans into me, whispering in my ear, “You okay?”
    I want to nod. But I can’t. If I do, tears will spill down my cheek. So I just get up as calmly and quickly as possible and head to the toilet. Once inside, I wet a towel and dab it all over my face, as if cold water will shock away all my grief and sadness.
    I want to let it all out, to bawl and just be sad, be alone in my sorrow. But I can’t, not now. I know most people would understand, but I’m just not comfortable here. So I suck it all up, bury it deep down, brush my hair back from my face and put on my most winning smile.
    I go back out and enjoy the rest of the dinner, even making small talk, though George won’t look my way at all. I don’t mind.
    Later that night, Lachlan and I retire to our bed early. We don’t even have sex for once, I just feel too tired, too lost in my head and while the distraction from earlier today worked wonders while it lasted, I can’t even entertain the idea now.
    But Lachlan is forever the gentleman. As we climb into the tiny, creaking bed with thin covers, he holds me to his hard frame until I feel the beating of his heart at my back. It’s a rhythm, along with his steady breaths, that brings me into a dark, solid sleep.
    When we wake up the next morning, it’s snowing.
    Everything has been wiped clean.
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
    Lachlan
     
    “It’s snowing,” Kayla says, her voice entering my dreams until my eyes flutter open. For a hot second I don’t know where I am, the world seems blue and white and the mattress beneath me is sagging toward the middle, making me think I’m in a hammock in the sky. Then I remember. My grandfather’s house. Here to fight another day.
    But at least it’s Christmas Eve and Brigs should be showing up later to share some of the pressure from my family. I’ve got the woman of my heart in bed beside me. And, outside the window, flakes of snow are falling from the sky. The white Christmas so many wish for? Well, we’ve got it.
    I rub at my face, attempting to sit up. The air is decidedly chilly outside the blanket. “What time is it?”
    “Eight-thirty,” she says.
    I groan. I slept in. I promised myself I would stick to my schedules of getting up at the crack of dawn and exercising. Though by the looks of it, my idea of going for a run has been buried by the snowfall.
    I slowly get out of bed and invite Kayla to take a shower with me. She declines, feeling uneasy in the house and I can’t really blame her. After yesterday she’s more fragile than ever. The way my grandfather was with her, her