“Promise me one thing,” I said.
“Name it,” he said, pulling away a little so I could look him in the eye.
“Don’t come and find me before you leave tomorrow. I don’t like Christmas Eve goodbyes.”
He swept my hair behind my ear and placed a kiss at the corner of my mouth.
“I promise I’ll just disappear.”
I didn’t want to trigger any memories about last year and coming home to Carl packing. Not that Carl and Sebastian were similar in any ways that counted. I just wanted to remember my time with Sebastian as it had been—carefree and happy and unburdened by histories or futures.
If being with Sebastian meant I had to give him back, it was a price I was willing to pay.
Twenty-Three
Sebastian
The final night of the Christmas market was in full swing, which meant it was time for me to leave. Despite protestations from Mary, I carried my own suitcase from my room to my car and handed it to Bradley.
I’d already said my goodbyes to Granny and told her I’d be back to see her after Christmas. I had to leave now to be sure of not missing my flight.
“Good to have you here,” Mary said from the entrance of the Manor. “Don’t leave it so long next time.”
I kissed her cheek. “Thank you for taking such good care of Granny. Make sure she does the exercises the physio gave her.” I don’t know why I bothered to say anything. Mary wouldn’t let Granny get away with anything when it came to her recovery.
I opened the passenger side of the car and dipped my head to climb in.
“Sebastian!” a voice from the dark called. Even though I could tell from the tone that it wasn’t Celia, for a second before logic took over, I thought it could be. And my stomach flipped at the thought.
Just a final kiss. A final touch. A goodbye.
“Barbara,” I said as she scurried toward me as fast as the icy ground would allow.
“Just a little something for the journey,” she said, handing me a plastic bag.
I peered in.
“Shortbread,” she explained. “And a Chocolate Orange.”
Memories of Barbara from when I was a boy flooded in. She’d always been so kind to me. Let me play with the decorations in the Christmas shop. Stopped by the Manor every day the summer I got chicken pox, bringing DVDs and ice lollies. I’d forgotten so much.
“I haven’t had a Chocolate Orange in years.”
Barbara beamed at me. “You used to love it when I saved you some for when you’d visit after Christmas.”
I nodded, remembering the scrunched-up orange foil containing three or four slices of chocolate that Barbara would press into my hand and tell me not to tell Granny about. I would always tell Granny—better that than she find out of her own accord. But she’d always let me keep the gifted chocolate.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy that on my trip.”
“Oh and this,” she said, holding out a giftwrapped square. “Celia asked me to pass it along.” She covered her mouth. “I shouldn’t have given it away.” She shook her head, chastising herself. “Well, you know now. She was your Secret Santa.”
I forced a smile. “Thank her for me, will you?”
Barbara fixed me with a look that said she really wanted to tell me to thank Celia myself. But she nodded and patted my hand. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I promise I’ll be back soon.”
I kissed her on the cheek then slid into the passenger seat. Bradley pulled away, leaving the Manor, the green, and a lot of memories, old and new, in the rearview mirror.
As we wound through the village, I turned over the wrapped present from Celia. George Michael was finally singing “Last Christmas” in the front. The music stopped abruptly.
I snapped my head up.
“Sorry, Sebastian,” Bradley said. “It’s on the radio. Shall I try to find something less festive, or would you prefer silence?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “You can turn it back on.” It was the one Christmas song I’d not heard this year. Anyone would think Snowsly had put a ban on it or something.
I caught his frown of confusion in the mirror. I’d been unable to enforce it in the office but “no Christmas music” had always been a strict rule in the car. After the last fortnight, I wouldn’t say I enjoyed Christmas music exactly, but I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it either. After all, it reminded me of the last two weeks. And those two weeks were everything I could have hoped for from Snowsly. And more. None of the regret at having missed all those Christmases as a child had risen to the surface. None of the dashed hope had emerged. I’d just had a really good time.
I pulled at the wrapping on the gift, only then realizing there were actually two gifts held together with the ribbon. I grinned to myself, almost excited to see what she’d bought.