And then there was Fred. Even though he didn’t have shoes on, just socks, he stepped outside into the snow, and pulled the door behind him.

“Sorry about them.”

I shrugged. “Sorry about calling your mom Mrs. Fred’s Mom.”

He smiled. “Not many people know this, but that was actually her christened name.”

“Jackpot, then.” I smiled. It was weird how being around him made me feel so comfortable—yet so totally out of my depth all at once.

Fred glanced at my watch. He didn’t mean for me to see—but I did. It was a strange time for me to be here though.

“Everything okay?”

“Sort of.” Boy, I was nervous. “I mean, yes. I just… Well, I just realized I had an answer.”

Fred scratched his head. “An answer?”

“To what you asked me earlier.” He looked none the wiser. “The best Christmas present thing?” We’d talked about it on the walk back from the pantomime.

“Ohh.” He finally remembered. “And?”

“It’s like you said…” I laughed. “Well, not the sausage roll part. The part about the best ones being ones that when you think about them, they make you smile again and again.” Jeez. I swear I used to think I could be cool. Must add “becoming massive cheeseball” to things that have happened here.

“So?” Fred looked like he was trying to figure it out. “What then? A recording of Carol? Endless supply of Dairy Milk?”

Well, here goes nothing.

“No, Fred.” My heart was beating so hard, I swear my voice was wobbling. “I was more thinking this.”

And as “Last Christmas” played in his kitchen, and his little brother pushed his face so hard against their front window, his nose went yellow, I leaned forward and kissed Fred.

And he kissed me back—and it felt…brilliant. Despite being terrible at first (through to fifth) impressions, Fred was completely perfect at first kisses.

Christmas rom-coms had nothing on this.

And when we finally stopped, we both took a second, as if neither of us could be quite sure that actually just happened.

I wanted to be cool, but my face had other ideas. It was at least 99 percent goofy smile.

“Well, that was something.”

Fred nodded. “Yup. Definitely something.”

“Want to go for a walk? In the snow?” I pointed at the snow—I don’t know why I did that. “For old time’s sake?”

“I think I could maybe do that,” he said, which would have been a lot more believable if he didn’t sprint to grab his shoes in record time.

As we stepped off the doorstep, Fred reached out and took my hand in his.

“That was brilliant, by the way.” I felt him squeeze my hand. “A bit like you.”

And as we walked, I knew one thing. No disrespect, Santa Claus.

But this amazing boy had just given me the best Christmas present ever.

Happy, happy holidays indeed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Holly