You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Twenty-Five

DECEMBER 12th

'Snow is falling, all around me. Children playing, having fun. It's the season, for love and-'

'Stop! It's too early for singing, especially yours. It sounds like a cat's being hit against a wall!' Ben's voice booms next to my ear as he storms past me into the kitchen, and I whip out my headphones and watch as he begins opening each of the cupboard doors before slamming them shut again unnecessarily.

Unsure of what he was looking for, I leave him to it, not wanting to deal with his wrath so early in the morning.

'Hello to you too,' I reply humorously, his little strop unable to penetrate the happy little bubble I was in today. This was the best I have felt in a long time and it's all thanks to a certain black-haired, blue-eyed gentleman whose face I couldn't get out of my head. It's because of him that I went to see my mum yesterday and if I hadn't, we would never have had a chance to resolve our issues, and it's also because of him that I've received a newfound love for my article again. I wish I could pop by the restaurant to tell him. I didn't speak to him at all yesterday and I actually found myself missing him.

'What's got you in such a good mood?' Ben sulks as he places two pieces of bread in the toaster and slams down the latch.

'I'm always in a good mood.'

'No, you're not. You had a right face on you when you left yesterday. Funny, I thought it was me who was the one getting dumped.'

Choosing to ignore his little swipe I pick my glue gun back up, carefully applying a thin layer onto my stack of sticks and add another smaller one on top of them, sucking in a sharp breath when I burn my fingers for the fifth time this morning. Why on earth I chose to make something so fiddly, I don't know!

'Didn't realise we were hosting a kids crafts party today.'

Ben peers curiously over at all the mess I'd made on the table, and I discreetly attempt to tidy up a bit. It did look quite chaotic. I'd spent the last hour making Christmas decorations for something new to write about and to be honest, I've enjoyed every second of it.

I think the Christmas music blaring into my ears definitely helped. (Well, it distracted me from the sudden bursts of pain whenever I burnt myself, at least.)

Again, this was all thanks to Lincoln. He'd inspired me when he said to think of things I used to do at Christmas when I was a kid and making decorations every year was one of them. Though, luckily for me, I'd advanced out of the PVA glue and lollipop stick phase because my little homemade Christmas trees were actually looking pretty good. I'd even managed to attach some twine to them so you could hang them on the tree.

At least if it all fails with journalism, I could always set up a little shop on Etsy and sell my creations. Although I'd probably make something a little less complicated because scrambling around the park at night time trying to find sticks with only my phones torchlight for aid was no easy feat.

'What are they meant to be anyway?' Ben says, plonking himself down on the sofa behind me with his breakfast.

'They're Christmas trees! Look.'

I hold one up for Ben to see and he turns his nose up at it, disregarding it cruelly.

Well, screw him then, I think to myself as I turn back around, carrying on in stony silence. That's one less tree I have to make.

'Look, Ben,' I say calmly while I glue the finishing touch to yet another finished decoration, a little star that I'd painstakingly made from glittery silver felt. 'I know you're having a tough time right now, I appreciate that, but don't take it out on me, okay. Because I've done nothing but try and help you.'