No Two Are Alike

25 | her holiday wish

Chloe loved drinking champagne.

But it was especially satisfying to do it in her pajamas.

She stretched out on the floor of Jack's flat, clapping her reindeer slippers together. The bulbs on the toes lit up red. Shouts rose above the crackling of the fire — Logan and Jack squabbling about whether snafu could be considered a real word in Scrabble, since it was an acronym — but it only added a certain charm to the cozy little scene.

She shot a look at Kate, who grinned.

Idiots, Kate mouthed.

Chloe winked.

Her head was beginning to feel pleasantly light. She leaned back into Jack's arm, smoothing out the glossy copy of Shout! on her lap. Then she caught sight of something and frowned.

"Hang on," Chloe said, aghast. "You named me Agatha in your article?"

Logan paused, a tile hovering over the board. "Er. Yes?"

"Why?"

"What's wrong with Agatha? It's a lovely name."

"If you're ninety," Chloe groused. "And live in a nursing home, where you're liable to fall down and break a hip."

Logan smirked. "Well, you certainly do fall a lot."

Chloe stuck out her tongue, chucking a lemon square at his head. Logan dodged it deftly, looking chagrined.

"Why do people keep throwing food at me?" he demanded.

"I hate to break it to you," Kate chimed in, "but it's probably because you deserve it, love." She leaned over to ruffle his hair. "You're kind of an arsehole sometimes."

Logan — whose blond hair was now sticking up all over his head like a bizarre, molting white chicken — gave his girlfriend an affronted look. "I am not!"

"You are, darling."

"You really are," Jack added cheerfully. "No offense." He put a few tiles down on the board, cackling to himself. "Triple word score, baby! You'll never catch me now."

Chloe rolled her eyes, turning back to the article.

Logan told the story to the reader with his usual charm and wit, detailing the chaotic events of the last few weeks. An illustrator had even drawn several images to accompany his words (Chloe tried not be offended by the cartoon of her panicking as Jack choked on a cookie — really, her face didn't turn that red). It was good, she begrudgingly admitted. Great, actually.

"Well?" Logan demanded, studying her face. "What do you think?"

"It's rubbish."

His face fell, and Chloe grinned.

"I'm joking, idiot," she said fondly. "I like it; it's entertaining."

Logan went from crest-fallen to smug in all of three seconds. "Of course it is," he said. "I wrote it, didn't I?"

She chucked another lemon square at his head, followed by the copy of Shout!. Logan howled, diving out of the way, and Kate hid a smile behind her wine glass.

Chloe drained the last of her champagne, rising to her feet. She plucked Jack's empty flute out of his hand. "Top up?"

"Thanks, angel."

She wrinkled her nose. "Angel?"

"I was trying it out," Jack said sheepishly. "Is that a no?"

"Definitely a no." Chloe kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, though."

"Oi!" Logan rolled up the magazine, pointing at them with it. "Cut that out, please. Some of us want to enjoy our Christmas dinner after this."

Chloe shot him a rude gesture, making for the kitchen. She was just opening a new bottle of champagne when strong arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her closer. The comforting scent of chocolate oranges enveloped her.

"Need any help?" Jack murmured.

"Shouldn't you be trying to win Scrabble?"

"Just did." He spun her around. "Logan's furious."

"Oh, dear. His holiday wish isn't coming true this year."

"And what about you?" Jack's eyes were the same shade of blue as the skies that stretched above the Alps, a cloudless, azure infinity. "Did your holiday wish come true?"

Chloe thought back to the beginning of December. Her determination to be with Logan. The secret switch. No, actually, it hadn't; this holiday had been a chaotic disaster, turning every wish she'd ever had right on its head.

She was so damn grateful for it.

She smiled. "You know what I'm wishing for right now?"

"Champagne?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, stretching up on her toes to kiss him.

Jack kissed her back with equal fervor, and she thought of the years between them, hanging like ornaments from a Christmas tree. A plastic snowman to mark their early adventures. A hot chocolate cup to mark their later ones. A fractured clay heart for the Valentine's card she had never given him. And now, this: the golden, glimmering star on top of the tree.

Home.

A/N: Happy Christmas everyone! I hope that — wherever you are — you're celebrating with loads of hot chocolate, cozy jumpers, and loved ones. This year has been a weird one, but I'm grateful to be back with my family today.

Here's to hoping that 2021 brings more light to the world :)

Affectionately,

J.K.