Christmas Ever After (Puffin Island 3)

“That’s it?” Sky’s voice was a croak. “They haven’t said anything else?”

Alec’s sister shook her head as she scrolled down the search results.

“This really is exciting. We had no idea.” Suzanne looked impressed. “If someone had paid money for something I’d made, I’d be boasting about it from the rafters. Simon, you must track down a newspaper, then Sky can keep it as a souvenir for her parents. They’ll want to see it.”

Sky knew they wouldn’t and to her horror felt her throat thicken. “That’s kind of you.”

Oh, God, she was going to cry.

She was going to sob over her plate of food and make a fool of herself in front of these lovely people.

Under the table, she dug her nails into her palm and then felt a warm, strong hand close over hers.

“I had an interesting meeting with the BBC.” Alec calmly took over the conversation, while with his right hand he coaxed her fist to relax. “They were sounding me out about filming in Antarctica. A documentary on Shackleton. Someone let them down.”

His uncle grunted. “Antarctica has been at the top of your list for a long time. Do it.”

“I will if I can. I’m waiting to hear.” His thumb stroked Skylar’s fingers gently. “It might not happen. I’m not counting my chickens.”

“It’s Christmas,” Liv said, “you should probably count turkeys.”

“How’s the boat?” Harry’s eyes were bright. “Any good sailing lately?”

“She’s in storage. Which is the only way to keep a boat like her safe through a Maine winter. And I don’t have time to sail until this book is done.”

His father put his knife and fork down. “How’s that going?”

“Slow. I’m planning on shutting myself away and working on it over Christmas.”

“Oh, Alec,” his mother murmured, “I can’t bear to think of you alone on that snowy island with only the sea for company—” She subsided as her husband gave her a look. “What?”

“He’s a grown man, Suz.”

“I know that. I want him to know he’s welcome at home, that’s all.”

“Well, of course he knows he’s welcome at home,” Alec’s grandmother said, “that’s why it’s called home.”

“I’m home now,” Alec said mildly, “so maybe we could all just enjoy that. And the island has a permanent population and a decent number of winter visitors. I’m not a hermit.”

Sky sat there, listening to the conversation flow round her, focusing on the firm pressure of his hand.

Gradually the urge to cry faded, the unexpected wash of emotion receding like the tide.

She knew she should pull her hand away, but she didn’t want to.

Right now Alec felt like the one solid, sure thing in her life.

And perhaps he knew, because what other reason was there for him to keep his hand firmly over hers?

How could a man who’d always shown himself to be thoroughly insensitive suddenly be so sensitive? Or maybe he just didn’t want her to make a fool of herself in front of his parents.

His mother was still fretting. “What if the power goes out like it did last year?”

“I have a generator.”

Sky watched in silent admiration as he handled their concerns. He showed love and respect, but not once did he waver in his decisions or compromise on what he wanted to do.

She’d thought it was annoying that he didn’t try to please anyone but himself, but now she was starting to admire him for it.