Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read!. Catherine Ferguson
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thing he said made total sense to me. Well, everything I actually heard. (I’d challenge anyone not to be distracted by those warm brown eyes and that incredibly white smile.)
Before long, I was declaring it was high time I turned my life around and got fit.
I’d said it before, of course, but this time I really meant it.
After that, Nathan made a point of coming up and chatting to me at the gym. And my visits were a lot more regular than they otherwise would have been.
Barb tailed off after the first enthusiastic month, blaming long hours at work, while I kept on going. But I never thought anything would happen between Nathan and me. We were good friends. That was all.
Then one night, we were having a laugh at the water cooler. Well, actually, I was trying hard not to laugh as Nathan did a wicked impersonation of someone on a nearby treadmill. The poor woman had set her machine far too fast and was having to march incredibly quickly to prevent herself conveyor-belting off the back. Her face was brick red with the effort.
‘Stop it. You’re terrible,’ I admonished him.
Then he said it. ‘Let’s go out for a drink on Saturday night.’
At first, I thought maybe he meant a crowd of us from the gym.
But when he pulled me behind a pillar, I realised he meant just us.
‘Well?’ He grinned. ‘What about it?’
Heart hammering from being kissed so thoroughly, I tried to act cool and pretend I wasn’t bothered either way. But he wasn’t fooled.
‘Pick you up at eight?’
I smiled, loving the confident glint in his eye and the feel of his hands round my waist.
On our date, I learned a lot more about his ambition to be a personal trainer. And we talked at length about my plan to get fit.
By the end of the evening, I knew the best shop in town to buy workout gear, the best food to eat for optimum energy (chocolate with nuts in it didn’t make the grade, apparently) and I’d committed to training for a half-marathon.
Afterwards, he took me back to his lovely, modern apartment in Pottersdale and kissed me until my head spun. Then he pulled away, panting, and said he’d better call me a taxi.
Completely thrown, I thought I’d stumbled across a new breed of men who saved themselves for marriage. Then he explained that he was running a marathon next day and needed all his energy for that.
He looked so regretful when he was waving me off, I totally forgave him. In fact, it made me admire him even more. He was so very focused on his new career. Not treading water, like me, in an office job I didn’t particularly enjoy.
Next day, he made up for his abstinence.
I went round after the marathon and cooked for him while he soaked his aching muscles in the bath. And we ended the night by enjoying a marathon of a very different kind.
After that, we spent loads of time together and it wasn’t like my other relationships at all. It was so much more active. We’d go out hiking in the hills all day Saturday then run and swim on a Sunday. I’d get back to my own flat, aching in every single muscle, but it felt good. I’d never been so fit in my life. My skin positively glowed with good health.
Barb wasn’t as enthusiastic about Nathan and my new health regime as I would have liked. But I figured it was probably because she missed our Saturday nights in, lounging around the flat eating nachos and watching bad horror movies.
It’s the morning after the climbing wall humiliation.
I’m sitting with Nathan at his cherry wood breakfast bar, virtuously ploughing through a bowl of home-made muesli, vaguely aware of him talking about some run or other.
But I’m tired and my back’s aching from sitting bolt upright.
The stools we’re perched on are an accident waiting to happen.
They’re cutting-edge stylish with a shallow back that deceives you into thinking they’re proper chairs. (Lean backwards at your own risk – and never when you’ve had a drink or two.)
To be honest, I’m practically falling asleep in my cereal.
It didn’t make for a particularly restful night, thinking about Christmas and wondering how the bloody hell I’ll squeeze everyone in.
I’m suddenly aware Nathan’s just asked me a question, something about a great big run.
‘Sorry? Miles away. A great big run?’
He grins. ‘No. The Great Brig Run. It’s just a 10k round Elmthwaite Lake. Fancy doing it?’
‘Maybe.’ If I sound a bit vague, it’s because my head’s somehow full of cushion wadding.
‘It’s fine if you don’t.’ He peers at me. ‘Is something wrong? You seem a bit distracted.’
I heave a sigh and tell him about my rash promise to host Christmas.
‘So what’s the problem?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you want to see your family at Christmas?’
I’ve just loaded in a spoonful of wood chippings, so he has to be patient while I chew for twenty minutes.
‘Yes, I do. But my flat’s so small.’
‘So spend Christmas here. I’ll be away, visiting the Aged Ps. You and the troops can have the run of the place.’
He springs up, kisses me on the cheek and heads for the door.
I stare after him.
The first thing that registers is that I won’t be spending Christmas with Nathan. I suppose I’d vaguely imagined him joining us for Christmas lunch. But of course he’ll be wanting to see his own family.
Then it sinks in what he’s just offered.
‘Hang on.’ I dismount the stool so speedily, I nearly fall off. ‘Did you say I can invite them to stay here? Even my sister-in-law?’
‘Especially your sister-in-law.’
With a cheery wink, he’s gone.
I can’t believe it.
A huge weight has just rolled off my shoulders.
I wander round Nathan’s apartment, planning where everyone will sleep; imagining the vast oak table in the dining room all decked out for Christmas lunch; thinking of the great festive movies we can watch – all the old favourites that Mum adores – on Nathan’s hi-tech projector system (I’ll need to take copious notes on how it works).
I know it’s shallow of me but I can’t help imagining my sister-in-law’s face when she sees the wet room with its waterfall shower and sunken bath. Honestly, she’ll be green!
It’s just a shame Nathan won’t be here to meet them all.
He must have sensed my disappointment at this because a few nights later, when I arrive at his apartment after working late, he welcomes me with a long, lingering kiss and says he’s going to take me somewhere really special for New Year. Then he slips my coat off my shoulders and ushers me through to the bathroom.
The gorgeous, free-standing bath is steaming gently, full of my favourite scented bubbles, and candles glow at the foot of the tub and along the adjacent window ledge. The candles are vanilla-scented and tend to make me feel nauseous. Nathan’s obviously forgotten this but it really doesn’t matter. I feel so cosseted and cared for. And with the lights off, the room looks magical.
‘Enjoy.’