The 14 Days of Christmas

“You sent me Lemon.” Her eyes went glassy and she shook her head. “It’s hands-down the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.”

“It was a pleasure. You deserve a wonderful Christmas.”

“I’d kiss you if I didn’t think it would be the last thing I did before I froze to death.”

Celia looked skyward and instinctively I did the same. “It’s snowing,” she said. “Another Christmas miracle.” She laughed one of her joyously unselfconscious laughs and pulled out her keys. “I better get you a hot chocolate since you’ve sacrificed a holiday in Barbados.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was much of a sacrifice.” How much had changed in the last fourteen days?

We headed inside and unwrapped ourselves from layers of hats, coats, scarves, jumpers, and boots. “I drove my new car earlier for the first time. It’s like being in a Rolls freaking Royce. Did I tell you that a friend bought me a car for Christmas?”

I followed her into the kitchen. “A friend? Or a boyfriend?” I pulled out the chair in the kitchen that I usually sat on while she made us drinks, while I waited for her to answer.

Eventually she turned to face me. “I’m not sure. I know I like him. And he seems to like me—”

“Very much,” I interrupted.

“But life isn’t so straightforward. There are . . . obstacles.”

I released the chair and stalked toward her, circling her waist with my arms, unable to resist touching her for another second. “You and I have become pretty good at overcoming obstacles these last weeks. If you tell me what we’re facing, I think we can figure out a way through them.”

She softened in my arms and smoothed her hands over my chest. “You think?” The wrinkle between her eyebrows told me she wasn’t so sure.

“I know so. Let’s whip up the hot chocolate and go through it. Break it down. Find solutions.”

She laughed. “Seriously? We live in different parts of the country,” she said, pulling out of my arms and turning toward the work surface to start on our drinks. “You can’t do whatever it is you do in Snowsly. And I don’t want to leave this place. That seems like a pretty big obstacle. You haven’t been back here for ten years.”

“That was a mistake,” I said.

She put the kettle on and leaned on the counter, folding her arms as if she wasn’t to be proved wrong.

We’d see about that.

“It’s thirty minutes in a helicopter. And I own my business. I can work from home one or two days a week. Maybe more sometimes.”

She glanced up at me from under her eyelashes. “You’re saying you want to make Snowsly your home?”

“I think it always has been. I’ve just been wandering around looking for it for an awful long time.”

“So you want to split your time between London and Snowsly?”

“Plenty of people do it. Half of the Cotswolds is inhabited by people who work in London.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not in Snowsly.” Some villages were full of commuters and holiday lets, but Celia was right as usual—Snowsly was for lifetime residents.

“But it’s possible to make that life work.”

“Possible,” she replied. “But is it something you want?”

Could she really doubt it? I was supposed to be on a plane to Barbados right now. I’d come back for her.

“I want you.” I unfolded her arms and cupped her head in my hands. “I want to do whatever it takes to be with you.” I rested my forehead against hers and she sank into my touch, sliding her arms around my waist.

“It’s too much to even wish for,” she whispered. “I was so desperate for a perfect Christmas, but this year has exceeded all my expectations. Because of you. Even if you hadn’t come back, spending these fourteen days before Christmas with you would have made it the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Thank God she felt the same as I did.

“We’ve just got wrinkles to iron out. That’s all. But I like you. Very much. And I don’t want this to be the only Christmas we spend together.” We hadn’t known each other very long, but I’d never felt so comfortable, so connected, so completely myself with anyone like I did with Celia. I’d spent my life working in an industry where everyone was trying to pretend they were a little more than who they were in order to secure a new job.

Celia knew she was enough.

And I didn’t need anything else.

“Are you sure you’re ready for Christmas with me?” She pulled back to look at me. “You thought I was festive before, but you’re in for a treat.”

“If I’m with you, I know that’s true.”

She tilted her head. “Same.”

Something deep in my gut told me that this Christmas with her would be the first of many. Next year, when my mother would join us. Another when we might get engaged. A Christmas wedding. Celia posing in front of the Manor tree with our first baby in her arms. There was a lifetime of wonderful Christmas memories waiting for us. Looking into Celia’s ice-blue eyes, I could tell she knew it too.