“Reminds me of how we used to steal it from your parents’ kitchen cupboard.”
“It’s like liquid chocolate. It’s so stupid that they make it. It’s dangerous.”
“How long are you here for?” I asked. “We’re going to have to pace ourselves on the celebrating.”
“Ten days. Technically work thinks I’m just off until New Year’s Day, but they don’t know I’ll be calling in sick because I’ll still be here. And before I leave, we’re burning that Star Wars duvet cover, even if I have to break into your house and steal the damn thing.”
“Actually, there’s no need. I burned it already. Sebastian and I had a . . . ritual of a sort.” My insides warmed at the memory of the warmth of Sebastian’s hand in mine as we watched Carl’s things go up in smoke. He was right—the anger that I’d been pushing down was out, and I felt lighter now. Ready for anything.
“You did? Sounds like Sebastian knows exactly what’s good for you.”
“In more ways that you need to know.” I grinned at the thought of our countless hours in bed. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“And sad Sebastian isn’t?” she asked.
“I keep telling myself to be logical. I always knew he lived in London and that we were just a short-term thing . . . It’s just, I really like him. Sure, he was handsome and tall and seemed to be able to snap his fingers and get just about anything he wanted. But he was also kind and loyal and incredibly humble. He always played down his contributions to the village.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Lemon said. “But seriously, there must have been something wrong with him. Did he have a tiny penis?”
I shook my head. “Sorry to disappoint you. I think he might just be the perfect man. For me.” Carl was hard to get over because of what he represented. But Sebastian was going to be hard to get over because of who he was.
At least this Christmas, when life handed me lemons, it also handed me Lemon. I was so grateful to have her here with me—once again, thanks to Sebastian. He’d fixed things for a final time before he left.
Twenty-Six
Sebastian
I’d made this walk along Delphinium Row at least twenty times over the last fortnight, but tonight my heart was beating out of my chest as if I’d run straight from the M40. I couldn’t wait to see what pajamas she was wearing, what Christmas music was playing in the cottage, and whether or not she’d be happy to see me.
In the middle of Celia’s front door, there was just enough wood not obstructed by Christmas wreath for me to knock.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Gradually my heartbeat faded back to normal and I gave one last knock before I shoved my hands deep in my pockets. Where was she?
I’d asked Bradley to drop me off here while he drove up to the Manor and left my case before heading home to his own family. On the journey back from the motorway, I’d ordered a rental car to be delivered on Boxing Day so I was never forced back into a Mini again. I’d taken it for ten days. I wasn’t sure I was going to spend all that time in Snowsly, but I wasn’t ready to say exactly when I was going back to London, either.
Maybe tonight if Celia didn’t open her front door.
Perhaps someone in the village was having a Christmas Eve party I didn’t know about. And then I remembered; Lemon had arrived. I’d arranged for her to stay at the Manor. I turned, trying to decide what to do and where to go next, when I saw a figure turn into the row. The flashing lights on her head told me it was Celia. She was humming a Christmas song and scuffing up the three-day-old snow with her boots.
And then she looked up. She stopped walking and pulled her eyebrows together. “Sebastian?”
“I like your hat.” I nodded toward the knitted Christmas tree stretched across her head, its lights flashing on and off. “Are you battery operated?”
“What are you doing here?” Disappointingly, she completely ignored my hat jibe.
She started toward me. I walked back up the pathway to meet her.
“I know you don’t like Christmas Eve goodbyes. So I thought I’d say hello instead.” There was nothing I’d prefer to be doing than gazing at Celia and her ludicrous hat right now. Not even sipping whisky in first class on the way to the Caribbean.
“What about your flight?” A smile unraveled on her face and I tried and failed to keep mine under wraps.
“I suppose it’s going without me. I decided that it was about time I had a Christmas in Snowsly.”
We stood toe to toe either side of the thigh-high gate.
“Oh, and thank you, Secret Santa,” I said. “I appreciated your gifts. Very you, but at the same time, very me.”