Come Back To What You Know
“Oh, God.” She raised her free hand to her face, covering her eyes for just a second in embarrassment. “I do not want to know what she said.”
“It was nothing bad.” I chuckled. “Mainly just about what a good daughter you are and how proud she is of you.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
I slowed us down, and we came to a stop at the edge of the rink. I pulled her tight into my arms and said, “I know I’m not going to get much time alone with you tonight, so I just want to take this chance to tell you how fucking happy I am to be with you right now. Waiting until tomorrow would have killed me.”
She grinned, wrapping her arms around me. “I think you could have handled one more day.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Nah. Another twenty-four hours would have been way too long. It’s already been long enough.”
“I agree. But… we’re together now.”
I moved my hand up to her face to push a strand of hair away from her eyes. “We are. And if it’s okay with you… I’d like to keep it that way.”
Epilogue
1 Year Later – Christmas Eve
“Bray, I’m h-” I cut my sentence short, closing the door to the flat behind me and pausing in the hallway.
Something feels weird. A strange combination of aromas wafts from the kitchen, and I drop my bag down on the floor, loosening my scarf as I walk into the living room. I was expecting to see some kind of Christmas movie playing on the TV, but I hear laughter and the sound of Rodney and Del Boy.
Only Fools and Horses? On Christmas Eve? That’s different.
Before I can put my focus elsewhere, Brayden practically leaps out at me from the kitchen, making me jump and squeal as his hands land on my shoulders.
“Jesus, Brayden. What’s going on in here?”
We’ve lived together for the last six months, and he’s never jumped out on m
e like that before. I’d also never come home to find him trying to steer me out of the living room. Well, maybe a few times, but that’s another story. I definitely missed his usual greeting of a hug and a kiss today.
He smiles as I try to stretch up on my tiptoes to look over his shoulder into the kitchen. “Not yet,” he says, turning me around. As I spin, I see the beautiful Christmas tree we decorated together has a few extra things underneath it. Seeing where I’m looking, he puts his hand over my eyes, laughing. “Give me two minutes, okay? Go take off your shoes and coat and then I’ll be ready.”
“Okay, but why can I smell fish?” I ask, wrinkling my nose as he walks me out of the living room. Christmas Eve is a time for mince pies, something festive cooking like a ham… not fish. And it’s not just fish. I’m getting a whiff of several other things that don’t seem like they should go together.
Ah ,well. We had a good run. It’s taken him a year to try to poison me.
“You’ll see.” At the bedroom door, Brayden uncovers my eyes and says, “Just trust me.”
And there it is. That smile making his gorgeous eyes sparkle. He looks amazing considering he’s had a lazy day at home. He’s wearing smart jeans and a deep green jumper... festive, and sexy as ever.
“What are you up to?” I ask with an incredulous smirk. As far as I knew, we were planning to spend our first full Christmas Eve together at home. No pubs. No nights out. Just the two of us with some movies and junk food, cuddled under a blanket.
“Give me two minutes.” He places a quick kiss on my lips then hurries back into the living room, closing the door behind him.
“Okay then,” I say out loud. I tug my coat and scarf off and hang them up on the hook by the door, then head to the bedroom to change out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable. I thought it would be PJs for both of us, but since Brayden is dressed, I put on my favourite pair of ice blue leggings with snowflakes on them, and a thick black woolly jumper. As I walk back out to the hallway, I pause at the closed door. Unsure if he’s ready for me yet, I knock and wait.
After a minute, he opens the door, beaming. Whatever he’s done, he looks super proud of himself.
“Welcome to a very British Christmas.”
My brows furrow slightly, but I can’t help laughing as he steps back to let me in.
The room, overall, looks the same, except now the dining table is full of food. Walking towards it, I glance up at him curiously as he follows me.
There is a white teapot centre stage, with two dainty teacups beside it. Steam swirls from the spout of the pot. Around the table, at our already set places, there are two plates of chip shop fish and chips and curry sauce. There are also some roast potatoes in a bowl, and some pigs in blankets. It’s then I realise he has used an England football scarf like a table runner underneath the dishes.