A Very Jameslie Christmas

A “Randwick Ravens” Short Story

The first thing Ainslie Wynter saw through her bleary, sleep-addled eyes when she woke up on Christmas morning was a bunch of green … something … hanging off the headboard of her bed. Sprigs of green with white dots. She squinted, and as the haze of sleep began to lift, her brain put the pieces together.

“Mistletoe,” the voice beside her uttered. “Huh. I wonder how that got up there.”

 A sleepy smile spread across her face as she stretched and rolled over to face James, who was lying beside her, propping himself up on his elbow, a cheeky half-smirk on his lips.

Ainslie chuckled. “As hilarious as the mental picture of you hanging mistletoe over the bed while I’m asleep is, you don’t actually need a plastic plant’s permission to kiss me.”

“True,” James replied, running a hand over the curve of her hip, “but it is Christmas, and would it really be Christmas without a bit of cheesy romance?”

“It wouldn’t be you without a bit of cheesy romance.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” James replied, slipping a hand under the hem of her shirt and tickling her.

Ainslie shrieked and fell into peals of laughter, not caring one bit if she woke Lucy and Jaz.

When James finally ceased his tickle attack, Ainslie pouted. “Well, are you gonna kiss me, or what?”

“Oh, you asked for it now,” James replied, play-tackling her onto her back and taking her breath away with a deep, hungry kiss.

Ainslie pushed her fingers into his hair and kissed him back. Hooking a leg around him, she rolled her hips up to meet his. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and nipped at her skin. She closed her eyes, relishing the sensation and breathing him in.

“I can’t believe Santa got me everything I wanted,” James said, his lips brushing against her.

“Neither can I, especially considering how naughty you’ve been.”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he said, as his hands wandered lower.

“Oh, I’m not.” The words caught in her throat as he touched her in just the right way. “I just don’t think Santa should get all the credit for giving you everything you wanted.”

Twelve months earlier, there was no way that Ainslie would have imagined that a Christmas morning roll in the hay with James would be on the agenda the following year.

“What a difference a year makes, huh?” Ainslie said. “I’ll never forget last Christmas and how you swooped in like Prince Charming and saved the night.”

“Weirdly enough, that kinda felt like our first date.”

“Except we were both dating other people.”

“Lord knows why.”

Ainslie smiled and traced her fingers along his jaw. “You know, I remember sitting in your car at the end of the night, and … I know it’s terrible … but I remember wishing you’d kiss me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was pretty stupid of me. And honestly, if you had, I would’ve been disappointed in us both.”

“But now I get to kiss you all the time,” James said, punctuating the thought with the action. “And I don’t even need a plastic plant’s permission.”

***

Christmas in the Wynter household had never really lived up to Ainslie’s Hollywood-inspired expectations when she was growing up. Inevitably, something always set her father off and he'd make her or her mother (or both of them) cry. Then the whole day would be ruined.

Christmas Days with the Bannister siblings had been fun, but they hadn’t quite had the same familial vibe that Ainslie thought Christmas ought to have. Plus, there was always a cloud hanging over their Christmases together. The elephant in the room: the fact that they were only there because they were estranged from the very people who were supposed to love them unconditionally.

Then there was last year. Christmas at the Corbins. Sure, there had been a family present, but it had been difficult to feel familial and warm in that pristine, sterile house. And now, looking back, the fact that Ainslie had been planning on making Aidan Corbin her family made her shudder.

But when she and James pulled up out the front of the Sunderland house—small and dated though it was—Ainslie felt like she’d finally come home.

The Sunderland house didn’t have Christmas lights on it. It hadn’t since the accident. But Erica had placed a few little Christmas kangaroo standees in the yard and the front door had a huge green and red wreath on it.

Ainslie reached out to ring the bell, but the door flew open before she had a chance.

“Merry Christmas!” Erica exclaimed, corralling Ainslie and James into a crushing hug and nearly knocking the wine and bags of snacks out of their arms.

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” James said, his voice choked by his mother’s embrace.

“Wait, let me join!”

Ainslie heard the voice only a second before she was squashed from behind as Jason joined in the group hug.

“Jase, you’re on time for once,” James said. “A true Christmas miracle.”

“No, the true Christmas miracle is you finally getting Ainslie to be your girlfriend.”

“Oi! I thought the ribbing would end once we actually got together!"

“Mate, it’s never gonna end.”

“Cut it out and get your butts inside.” Erica chuckled and gave Ainslie a little wink. “Thank God I’m not outnumbered by men this year.”

The living room was decked out in Christmas decorations. A lush, though artificial tree was standing proudly in the front window, colourful twinkle lights blinking away among the red and green ornaments. The upright piano in the corner had gold tinsel draped across the top, weaving in and out of the family photos. Red Christmas stockings hung along the mantle, and even though it was the middle of summer and certainly not fireplace weather, Ainslie wanted to snuggle up in front of it with a hot chocolate.

Ainslie noticed there were five stockings, and she furrowed her brow. There was one each for Erica and the boys, of course. A fourth for Michael, the boys’ dad. Which meant the last one was for …

Ainslie put a hand over her heart and chewed her lower lip, promising herself she wouldn't cry this Christmas.

She felt a hand land on the small of her back and she looked up at James. “Your mum hung a stocking for me.”

“Of course she did.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re family.”

Since Ainslie was now engrained as part of the family, she was quickly recruited into the Christmas lunch production line. Of course, she had no complaints. This was what it was all about. Being together, surrounded by loved ones, preparing a meal to share. Not sitting around sipping champagne while the servants worked for you. She and James were chopping veggies, and Erica was cooking prawns and apologising profusely to Ainslie each time she ripped a head off one.

“I know I’m a vego,” Ainslie said, “but I don’t mind if you eat prawns.”

“Good,” Jason said, pinching one of the prawns off of his mother’s cooked pile and popping it in his mouth, “because I’m planning on smashing these.”

Erica gave him a side-eye. “Jason, aren’t you supposed to be preparing your pavlova? No cross-contamination, please."

“You just wait until you try my pav, Ains,” Jason said. “It’ll rock your world.”

“It’s a pavlova, Jase,” James said, “I’m sure Ainslie’s had pavlova.”

“Not like mine,” Jason said, stealing another prawn, “mine’s got a special ingredient.”

“Is the special ingredient prawn heads? Wash your damn hands!”

“Boys!” Erica snapped. “Settle down! Jason, stop stealing all my prawns. James, Jason’s pavlova is a Sunderland family tradition.”

James raised an eyebrow. “He’s only been making it since twenty-eleven.”

Jason frowned. “Twenty-ten, actually."

Ainslie couldn’t hide her giggles any longer. She’d known Jason for just as long as she’d known James, but she hadn’t really seen them interact as brothers since they were kids. James was so dignified and mature most of the time, but when he was with Jason, they both regressed into 12-year-olds. And it was hilarious.

Even though they bickered like cat and dog, Ainslie knew that James and Jason were devoted to each other. It was that kind of brotherly ribbing laced with love that made the Sunderland house feel so much like a home.

***

After a hearty meal, the family sat in the living room drinking tea and nibbling on biscuits (because Jason had insisted that “there’s always room for biscuits”). Erica sat in her armchair, glowing from being surrounded by all her loved ones. Jason sat in the opposite armchair, legs draped over the armrest. He looked as if he was about to slip into a food coma. Ainslie snuggled into James’s side on the lounge, her legs over his lap and his arms around her body. Despite the sweltering temperature outside, the air-conditioning was working overtime to keep up the illusion of a Hallmark Christmas Day.

“James,” Erica piped up, hiding a knowing smile behind her teacup, “why don’t you play us a Christmas carol?” She nodded at the piano in the corner.

James gave his mother a look of warning. “Mum …”

Ainslie snapped her head up to look wide-eyed at James. She had a very vague recollection of him taking piano lessons when they were kids. Still, she’d figured that skating had pushed that out in terms of favoured pastimes.

Jason chuckled. “Come on, Jimmy! Chicks dig musicians!”

James whipped his head around and glowered at his brother.

“Do you still play?” Ainslie asked.

“Barely,” James said, still glaring at Jason.

“Bullshit,” Jason said with a laugh. "He didn't play last Christmas because he was in a funk, but every Christmas before that, he's been more than happy to get up and tickle the old ivories."

Ainslie gave James’s knee a little squeeze. “Oh, please play something.”

“Yeah, Jimmy! Play something!” Jason began chanting, "Jim-my! Jim-my!" until James finally groaned and shifted to move.

James conceded. “Fine!” Then he smirked, whispering to Ainslie, “This better get me laid.”

Ainslie giggled and climbed out of his lap.

James strode over to the piano and lifted the lid. He sat on the stool and began tinkering out a few scales. Ainslie smiled. He looked nervous, but it didn’t come across in his playing. Even if they were just scales, they sounded good to her.

“Go easy on me,” he said, “it’s been a while.”

“That’s what she said,” Jason said.

Erica rolled her eyes. “Jason … ”

Ainslie just giggled again.

James scanned the room with his eyes. “Well, what do you want me to play?”

“What’s your favourite Christmas song, Ainslie?” Erica asked.

"Easy, Mum. I don't know every Christmas song. Keep it traditional and you might stand a chance.”

"No Mariah Carey, then?" Ainslie asked with a smirk.

James gave her a look.

“All right,” she said, “what about “O Holy Night”?”

James’s countenance seemed to brighten at the suggestion, and he sat up taller. “That I can do.”

Ainslie watched him eagerly as he lay his fingers across the keys. He took a long, deep breath and began to play. To Ainslie’s untrained ear, it was impossible to tell he hadn’t played in a while. He didn’t have sheet music or anything; he clearly knew this song well. Ainslie watched in adoration as he played, his fingers moving deftly across the keys in featherlight strokes. Jason was right; this chick really did dig a musician.

The room filled with sweet music, and Ainslie relaxed into the lounge as she let the melody wrap around her, eyes fixed on her tremendously talented partner. But a little sniff from Erica pulled her out of her trance. She dragged her gaze away from James to look at his mother. She was dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue. Ainslie looked over at Jason, silently seeking some sort of explanation. But even though he was smiling, his eyes looked a little red.

Oh god, what have I done?

The song came to an end. James dropped his head and pinched the skin between his eyes.

“That was lovely, Darl,” Erica said, her voice strangled with emotion.

Ainslie wasn’t sure what to say.

“Dad used to play that every year,” Jason said. “It was his favourite Christmas song.”

Ainslie’s heart constricted. “Oh. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, Angel,” Erica replied with a warm, watery smile. “It was so nice to hear it again.”

Ainslie rose and walked over to the piano. She stood behind James and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “That was beautiful, James,” she murmured in his ear before pecking him on the cheek. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

He gave her arm a little rub and sniffled. “Thanks, Goose.”

“Now play “Last Christmas”,” Jason said, lightening the tone. “He fucking hated that song.”

***

Dinner consisted of leftovers from lunch, followed by Jason’s famous pavlova, which James had to admit was particularly tasty. The family spent the evening reminiscing, laughing, and looking toward the future until it was well after midnight, and everyone turned in.

James and Ainslie retreated to James's old bedroom, and even though the day had been wonderful, he was glad they were finally able to have some time alone.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you still played the piano,” Ainslie said with a smile.

James laughed. “I mean, I’ve gotta keep some surprises up my sleeve if I want to keep impressing you.”

Ainslie stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love that even after all these years, there are still new things to learn about each other.”

James wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Ainslie stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly.

“Today was the best day,” she said, brushing her nose against his. “Truly. I don’t remember ever having a Christmas so perfect. I’m so lucky.”

James smiled. “I think I’m the lucky one. I remember last year, I stood in this room all alone, looking at that picture of us and feeling sorry for myself because I was so in love with you.”

James nodded toward the portrait of the two of them that hung on the wall beside them. The one from Worlds in 2013. Ainslie turned and looked at the picture, resting her head on his chest.

“That was a good moment for us,” she mused.

“And look at that stupid boy,” he said. “That kid was completely head over heels, even then.”

Ainslie chuckled. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

“Neither can I. I can’t imagine I was all that subtle.”

Ainslie lifted her head and looked back up at him. "We got there in the end though."

“We did.”

James lowered his head and kissed her again, pulling her tight against his body. For the first time in a long time, his family had felt whole that Christmas.

“And that piano playing,” Ainslie mumbled against his lips. “If that wasn’t the most attractive thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

James chuckled. “You liked that, huh?”

“I did,” she said, rocking her hips against his. "I love learning more about what your fingers can do."

She kissed him again, and he moved his hands down a little further, gliding them over her backside and giving her a little squeeze. He felt her smile against his lips as she slid her hands down his shoulders and chest until her fingers landed at his belt.

James made a little noise of reluctant protest. “As much as I’d love to have a very merry Christmas night, Jason’s room is right on the other side of that wall.”

“I’ll promise I’ll be quiet,” she replied as she trailed kisses along his jaw.

James chuckled. “You’re never bloody quiet.”

“And you love it.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he said, hauling her off her feet.

Ainslie wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him once again. He walked them backwards until he felt the mattress against his calves, then sat down, keeping Ainslie seated in his lap. She withdrew from their kiss, coming up for air, and traced her fingers along his lips. He watched her as she studied his face in the low light, his heart glowing and his body heating up.

“I love you,” Ainslie said quietly, her eyes finding his. “More than anything.”

There was a gravity and vulnerability in her tone that told James that truer words had never been spoken. No matter what curveballs came at them the next year and beyond, they would always be okay.

“I love you, too,” James said. “More than anything.”

Ainslie cradled his face between her hands and kissed him once again. He held her close, wrapping her up like the gift she was.

She rested her forehead against his and brushed their noses together. “Merry Christmas, James.”

“Merry Christmas, Ainslie.”

Copyright © 2022 Alex Ravenscroft