"Poor man, your brain is so screwed up. I'll admit that I dislike Christmas Eve and Christmas before lunchtime. Too many injuries although not many of them require my speciality. I tend to end up helping out in the casualty ward," she said. "Perhaps we're both screwed up."
Tracey reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "I know you're worried but he has a lot of security. We can't stop living just because he's back, you know?"
She shook her head and leaned in to kiss him again. "I can find him tomorrow if he doesn't turn up," she rationalised. She'd rarely seen her son now that he had moved out but it would give her a good reason to go around. "I'd rather spend time with you to be honest. Pat's tantrums can wait for another time."