8 YEARS LATER

Spending the holidays with family was always something we had to balance. More so after we got married. We had to make sure that we didn't wind up offending either of our families and so we settled for alternating which family we spent Christmas with and where we spent the New Year. Personally, I thought everything would be much easier if we hosted Christmas dinner because then both our parents could come to us and we could spend New Year's with our friends. But, so far, the idea of throwing Christmas dinner at ours was too intimidating for me to work up the courage. Maybe next year we could try. Although – now that I gave it some thought, maybe we wouldn't be prepared to host Christmas dinner for the first time either. It certainly wasn't the most appealing idea, not right now.

This year, we were going to spend Christmas with Seamus's family in Ireland. Even now, despite how comfortable I now felt in his parent's home, I could still remember my first Christmas with his family. I'd spent almost every minute feeling like I was walking on eggshells and not wanting to do anything to give them a bad impression of me. But now, knowing how laid back his family were – at times more laid back than my own – I wondered just why I'd wound myself up into such an anxious mess that first Christmas.

Seamus stood with his mother as they both argued about where the decorations needed to go on the tree. Every time we spent Christmas in Ireland, I had to listen to this argument and each time I wondered why Seamus continued to argue with his mother. She was going to get her way in the end, just like she always did. Of all the Finnigan family, Seamus's father had the most sense – whenever the argument seemed ready to begin, he ducked into the kitchen to bring out the mulled wine. By now, they'd quickly learnt of my shockingly low tolerance and accepted that a glass of mulled wine would be my limit. It was just better for us all – the first time I'd joined his family for the holiday, his parents snuck me glasses of mulled wine because they thought Seamus was being overprotective for no reason. But, realising how quickly I became drunk and how giddy of a drunk I became, they no longer tried to sneak me glasses. Well – not so early in the day anyway.

Like clockwork, my father-in-law appeared from the kitchen with a tray of glasses of mulled wine as the argument geared up to reach the climax with heated discussions about what should go on top of the tree – a star or a fairy. I occupied myself by hanging the stockings on the fireplace, hoping they wouldn't try and involve me in the argument and that my father-in-law would skip right past me. I couldn't drink at all this holiday.

When my father-in-law approached them, mother and son took a temporary respite to help themselves to some mulled wine. I breathed out a thankful sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. My father-in-law, red cheeked and smiling, outstretched the tray towards me and my words died on my lips. We'd both agreed it was too early to tell anyone and –

"Dad," Seamus called out, appearing like my saviour, "come and talk some sense into Mam."

At first, it seemed like he wouldn't get involved and would remain a simple onlooker. Hearing that her son felt like she needed stopping, Mrs Finnigan (the other, Mrs Finnigan) went up another gear and it was finally time for my father-in-law to step in. But not before he gave me a glass of mulled wine and assured with a wink that I wasn't a bad drunk so they wouldn't care. Staring down into the glass, I tried not to frown because if I didn't drink it then there'd be an issue – it would be like I was looking down on the family's old recipe. In a heartbeat, Seamus was at my side and snagging the glass from me with a reassuring smile. I watched as he drained it quickly, ignoring the heat of it and handed the empty glass back to me.

"Thank you," I said instantly, leaning into his side when he wrapped an arm around me.

"No worries," he assured me, leaning down as if he was going to kiss me. But the smell of the wine on his mouth was enough to have me recoiling away. He didn't get offended, understanding just how weak my stomach had been for the past few days. He settled for squeezing my hand. "Just let me know if you need me to do anything for you."

"I should be alright," I assured him with yet another thankful smile. Since we'd found out about our surprise – because good Merlin, it was a hell of a surprise – he'd been on the receiving end of my eternal gratitude. Without my needing to tell him, he knew when I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and I had an inkling it was to do with all the childcare and pregnancy books he had stacked on his bedside table.

I was drawn from my contemplations when my mother-in-law called my name. She looked between the pair of us in a way that suggested she'd caught the entire interaction. For one moment I thought she was going to say something eventhough we were still wanting to keep it a secret. But then, she just offered me a secretive smile and turned once more towards the tree.

She called my name again, before saying, "Why don't you decide what goes on top of the tree this year?"

"Me?" I asked incredulously, stumbling forward when Seamus gave me an encouraging push. Really, I really didn't want to get involved in this argument because one of them would sulk for the rest of the night until they went to bed. By tomorrow morning they would forget it but the idea of dealing with a sulking Seamus was enough of a reason for me to silently point towards the star. My mother-in-law looked for a moment like she was going to protest but to everyone's surprise, she conceded.

Distantly my father-in-law wondered just what gift I'd gotten her for her to comply so easily. It would be a few more months until he finally found out.