One More for Christmas(112)
“I don’t know where your room is.”
He paused. “You don’t?”
“No. You’ve never shown me the private side of the house. If I’d plucked up courage to sneak through the lodge in my robe—which I probably wouldn’t have done—then I wouldn’t have known which door to knock on. I might have ended up walking in on your mom.”
He lay back and pulled her closer. “I’m going to put a note on my door. Just in case.”
“I wish we could stay like this.” She felt like a child, wanting Christmas to last forever except in this case it wasn’t Christmas she wanted. “I wish we could freeze time.”
“But then we’d miss all the moments in the future that are going to be even better than this one.”
“You think we have a future?” The words were followed by embarrassment. “Ignore me. You don’t have to answer that.”
“Why wouldn’t I answer it?” He ran his fingers lightly down her arm. “I suppose the answer to whether or not we have a future depends on us. Do you want one?”
“The logical side of me says it isn’t practical.”
“Ah. Outer Samantha. I like her, but right now I’m talking to inner Samantha. What does she say?”
“She says go for it. Do whatever it takes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t usually listen to her. My logical side has the loudest voice—” She kissed his shoulder. “I’m scared.”
“Me, too. But that’s a good sign.”
“It is?” She liked the way his fingers felt on her skin. Gentle, but possessive. In a good way. A very good way. She’d never been able to sit still long enough to contemplate a massage, but she would have sat for a week while he touched her like this.
“Yes, because it shows we do want this. We both care. We’re emotionally engaged.”
“Yes.” She’d never been scared with Kyle. Never once been nervous that it might not work out. “I’m glad you’re not doing this out of pity.”
“I may occasionally break my glasses and lose my wallet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”
“You live in Scotland and I live in Boston.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m giving you reasons why this probably won’t work.”
“How about giving me reasons why it will work? Like the fact that we both want it to and are willing to make it work. I can fly to Boston. I’m willing to clear space on my desk for you to work when you come and spend time here. I’ll even wash up a few mugs.”
It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t sensible. But it sounded so good. She snuggled closer. “You’d make space for me in your office?”
“As long as you promise not to touch anything.”
“Can I touch you?”
“That’s allowed.” He rolled her under him, kissing her again, and it was another hour before they finally finished the champagne.
“This might be the best Christmas ever.” She took another mouthful and handed it to him.
“It’s the best so far. There are going to be plenty more. Champagne from the bottle on Christmas Eve can be our first tradition.”
The future was theirs. Whatever they chose to do with it. At some point they’d have to make choices, but they didn’t have to make those choices tonight. Tonight all they had to do was enjoy their time together.
And that’s what they did.
Gayle
“Nanna! Wake up.”
Gayle woke to find Tab jumping on her bed holding a bulging stocking and Bear, her ever-present guardian, sitting patiently by the door.
Ella appeared in the doorway. “Sorry! Tab, I told you that you weren’t to wake Nanna.”
“But I want to open my stocking with her.”
Gayle sat up and pulled Tab into the bed so she wouldn’t be cold.
“Ella, you might want to check the end of my bed because there is something there.”
It had been gone midnight when she’d finally finished wrapping, and she hoped she’d done the right thing.
Tab checked and found the two stockings. “They’re for Mommy and Aunty Sam. Santa must have come into your room, Nanna. Did you see him?”
“I was sound asleep the whole night.”
Samantha appeared in the doorway. “Did someone say Santa?”
“He left a stocking for you!” Tab pushed it toward her and Samantha glanced at her sister, and then at Gayle.
“Santa filled a stocking for us?”
Aware that Tab was watching, Gayle mirrored Ella’s excitement. She wasn’t going to blow this. “It seems that way.”
“A stocking.” Ella sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled it onto her lap. “I can’t believe—”
“Can I open it for you?” Tab bounced on the bed. “Can I?”
“No you can’t,” Michael said. “You have your own to open. This one is for Mommy.”
Tab started opening her presents and Ella took wrapped packages from the lumpy, bumpy stocking with her name on it.
“I feel about six years old. I can’t believe Santa did this for us.” Ella pulled a dome-shaped parcel out of her stocking and gave her mother a knowing look.