Morning light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the silver ornaments adorning the Christmas tree. Sixteen feet of perfectly symmetrical pine, decorated in silver and blush pink—Killian had tried to draw the line at the pink, but he still can’t seem to say no to me.
I sneak out of bed before Killian. I have a phone call to make before I can enjoy the day. Guilt glides through my stomach like a snake. I hate telling lies. But needs must.
I drop onto the couch and pull up my father’s contact details on my phone. Taking in a deep breath, I hit dial. It rings for an eternity and just when I’m about to hang up, he answers.
‘Avery? Merry Christmas, darling.’
‘Merry Christmas, Dad.’ Even the word ‘Dad’ sounds stilted. Awkward. Unnatural.
‘Are you on your way over?’ The sound of familiar Christmas songs from decades past travel through the phone line. A vision of him and Tessa pottering around their lavish kitchen preparing for the most talked about meal of the year pops into my head. Sebastian’s probably got his nose buried in his laptop, as usual. The man is a workaholic, and I should know—I live with one. Yvonne’s probably gone to mass to say a prayer for my soul.
I clear my throat, fiddling with the hem of my Agent Provocateur nightdress. ‘I’m not, no.’
‘What do you mean?’ His voice hitches with… disappointment? Irritation? Sadly, I don’t know him well enough to differentiate.
‘I’ve come down with an awful flu. My temperature spiked during the night and I feel dreadful.’ It’s not a lie, I do feel dreadful—not because I’m sick, but for lying.
He harrumphs in obvious disbelief. I need to get off the phone asap. ‘I’m so sorry, Dad.’ That word again. Ugh.
‘Tessa has gone to so much trouble. She’s been preparing this meal for days. Sebastian’s here already. Surely you can make it across the city for a couple of hours?’
‘I wish I could.’ More lies. ‘I have to go. I promise I’ll visit in the new year. Merry Christmas to all of you.’
I hang up. A weird sense of relief and sadness settles in my stomach as I slump back into the sofa. Killian strides in, concern etched into the fine lines of his face. He offered to make the call for me, but I figured it was the least I could do. In casual grey, low hanging sweats and a soft white t-shirt, he still looks like he could command armies or close million-euro deals.
‘Is it done?’ he asks, crossing the room to drop a kiss on my forehead.
‘It’s done.’ I nod more assertively than I feel.
‘Good. I know it might not seem like it, but it’s the right thing. For you, and for him.’ He drops onto the couch beside me, taking my hand in his.
I exhale heavily. ‘I know. It’s just our relationship is already stilted and I’ve probably just made things a million times worse.’
‘Sweetheart, the reason your relationship is stilted is because he left you and your mother for another woman.’ He threads his fingers through mine and offers a reassuring squeeze. ‘You are not responsible for his fuck ups, or for the fact that he’s a shitty father. I refuse to let you beat yourself up about this.’
‘I know, it’s just…’ Words fail me. I want to make an excuse for my father, but I can’t. ‘I think I’m at the age where it’s finally sinking in that I will never have the relationship with him that I want. And it’s probably time to make my peace with that.’
‘No matter how long you live, or how old you are, he will always be the parent in your relationship. It’s not on you to fix the past. He’s a grown man. Inviting you for Christmas dinner might be his olive branch, but even if you were to go, even if you enjoyed the day, it doesn’t eradicate what he put you and your mother through. He can’t make up for a million missed memories with one meal. His disappointment probably stems from his own guilt.’
‘And I thought I was the one with the psychology doctorate.’ I force a small smile.
‘You’re too close to see it clearly.’ He pulls me into his lap like I’m a child, holding me tightly against his chest. My shoulders automatically sag with relief. ‘We’ll do things so differently when we have our own kids.’
‘Easy, tiger.’ I place a palm on his pec. ‘First all this talk of a ring, now kids–it’s a good job I’m not easily spooked.’
‘You will be when I flush your packet of pills down the toilet.’
My mouth drops open and he winks. Phew. He’s joking—I think.
‘Relax. I was just trying to lighten the mood. I’m nowhere near ready to share you—yet.’ He slides me back on to the couch like I’m weightless and stands.
‘Where are you going?’ I miss being in his arms already.
‘To make you coffee.’
‘Thank you.’ I pull my legs up and cross them underneath me.
‘It’s Christmas Day. Our first Christmas together. You were the one who wanted it to be memorable. Let’s try to enjoy it. We deserve to, given the stress of the past couple of months.’
‘You’re right.’ And it’s not over yet. There’s still a lunatic out there somewhere convinced I’m destined to be with him.
I reach for Killian’s hand again, bring it to my lips and kiss the back of it. ‘Merry Christmas baby. Let’s start the morning again.’
‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’ A trace of concern lingers in his eye, but he stalks towards the kitchen to make our drinks. I grab the remote for his inbuilt speaker system and flick until I find something festive.
Jasper strolls in from wherever he spent the night curled up. He hasn’t yet clawed Killian’s curtains, so that’s one bonus. He hops up onto my lap and I stroke his furry head thoughtfully as he butts it against me.
Killian returns with two steaming mugs and hands one to me before scowling at Jasper.
‘Oh, come on. You don’t need to pretend anymore. I know you love him.’
‘I love you, and unfortunately, that furry freak comes as part of the package,’ he says, but with nowhere near as much disdain as he used to. ‘Come on, fleabag, let’s get you some breakfast.’ Jasper leaps from my knee and follows Killian across the plush carpet. I warm my hands around my mug of coffee, biting back a smile. I might never have what I hoped for from my dad, but I have so much more than most—a man who adores me… and my pussy.
He returns a couple of minutes later and nods towards the pristinely arranged presents beneath the tree, wrapped in silver and pink to match the baubles.
‘The presents didn’t have to be perfectly aligned. The world won’t end if everything isn’t symmetrical.’
‘Structure is important,’ he replies, that smile I’ve grown to love touching his lips. When I first moved in, I kept a mental tally of those smiles. Now they’re frequent enough that I’ve lost count.
Progress.
He sinks onto the sofa beside me once again, his warmth immediately enveloping me as he tugs me against his side. I kiss the underside of his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble. ‘Can I give you your present now or do we need to wait for a specific, strategically optimal gift-exchange time?’ I tease.
He rolls his eyes. ‘Presents now. Croissants after. Save room for lunch, my mother goes way overboard.’
I disentangle myself from him and fetch the small, meticulously wrapped box from under the tree. My hands tremble slightly as I pass it to him. ‘I had help from Thomson. So, if you hate it, blame him.’
Killian’s eyebrow arches as he unwraps the gift with surgical precision, not tearing a single piece of paper. When he opens the box, he goes completely still.
‘It’s a 1963 Rolex Submariner,’ I explain nervously. ‘The same model used by special forces back then. Thomson said it would resonate with your military background and—’
His mouth captures mine, cutting my rambling explanation short. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker, more intense. ‘It’s perfect,’ he says, voice rough.
‘You didn’t see the best bit.’ I prise the watch from his fingers and turn it over so he can see the engraving. Better late than never.
His low chuckle slides beneath my skin and all the way to my soul. ‘I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll never be late for you again.’
I quite believe it with all his talk the other night about ‘this time next year, you’ll be wearing my ring.’ I’m not sure if I’m flattered or frightened at the speed he’s progressing at, but he did say he’s an all-or-nothing type of guy. And I did say I’m an all-or-nothing type of girl. Looks like I might have to put my money where my mouth is, sooner rather than later.
He fastens the watch around his wrist before reaching under the tree. ‘My turn.’
The box he hands me is small, wrapped in silver paper with a blush pink bow. I tear into it with none of his restraint, pieces of wrapping paper flying in every direction. Inside is a Cartier watch, its elegant face gleaming with tiny diamonds around the border. ‘Oh my God,’ I breathe. ‘It’s stunning.’
‘It’s a Santos,’ he explains, taking it from the box and fastening it around my wrist with gentle precision. ‘The original was designed for a pilot. Built to withstand pressure changes, turbulence.’ His eyes meet mine, and I understand what he’s not saying. He picked a watch that’s both beautiful and strong, that can withstand unexpected storms. I suppose our start has been a little bumpy, but as soon as we catch the stalk—no I’m not even going to entertain that word today. He’s taken up so much of my time and energy already. He’s not getting Christmas Day as well.
‘I love it,’ I whisper, lacing my fingers through his. ‘Can you believe we bought each other the same gift?’
‘Great minds.’ He yanks me back against him. ‘I have another gift for you. But given Thomson and Sterling are lurking around here somewhere, I better give it to you in the bedroom.’
‘They’ve seen it all before.’ I remind him. Oh my god, when I think back, I can’t believe he did that.
Actually—I can. I just can’t believe I let him.
Who am I kidding? I’d let that man do whatever he wanted to me, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. Because I am head over heel, irrevocably in love with him.
‘Yeah, but the fur baby wasn’t there then. He’s far too young to watch his daddy ravish his mammy.’
