Page 107 of Not Just for Christmas

He kissed her again, the novelty of being able to do so too tempting to ignore, as were her lips.

‘Oh gosh,’ she exclaimed after they pulled apart finally, ‘I almost forgot the snacks for Santa and Rudolph. You take the mince pie, I’ll do the carrot.’

She knelt down beside the plate, handed him the mince pie and gnawed heroically at the end of the carrot.

Dylan held the mince pie in the palm of his hand and took a tiny bite. It was just a silly tradition, just a bit of fun, but something in his chest tightened.

He thought of Sam lying in bed upstairs dreaming of reindeer hooves on the roof and Santa with his sleigh full of gifts. He could already picture the wonder on his godson’s face when he came down tomorrow morning to find nothing but crumbs and a half-eaten carrot on the plate, his stocking magically filled with presents.

‘What’s up, not hungry?’ Lucy asked, taking a sip of the milk and grimacing. ‘That’s warm, Gus can have it.’

‘It’s not that.’ He swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. ‘I’ve never done this before.’

‘What? Eaten a mince pie?’ she teased.

‘I’ve never stood in for Santa; I’ve never been responsible for making a kid happy on Christmas morning like this.’ He brushed away a tear. ‘And it’s all I’ve ever wanted. A family.’

‘Oh Dylan, I do love you,’ said Lucy, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting herself onto her toes to place a tender kiss on his lips.

‘And I love you, and Sam,’ he responded, laughing at his own tears.

‘Come on, Santa Claus,’ she giggled, ‘time for bed.’

Tonight wasn’t just magic for Sam, thought Dylan as he followed Lucy upstairs, it was magic for him too.

Chapter 46

I woke to the faint sounds of the central heating cranking into life and the yeasty smell of bread dough proving in the kitchen. For a blissful moment I didn’t know where I was. Then I felt the steady rise and fall of Dylan’s chest against my back, his arm across my waist, fingers entwined with mine, and the memory of last night settled over me like a soft silk sheet.

I was still in Dylan’s bed.

We’d tiptoed upstairs last night and made an unspoken decision to be in here rather than the bedroom I’d shared with Jack. I was probably being overly sentimental, it was just a room after all, but in here I’d felt I was embracing the present rather than erasing the past.

I had intended to go back to my own room at some point last night. That had been the plan. The sensible plan. But somewhere between Dylan kissing me goodnight and murmuring that I smelled like mince pies and eucalyptus, I’d fallen into the deepest sleep imaginable. The kind of sleep I hadn’t known since before I’d been left juggling cows to milk, bills to pay, and everything else that seemed to land squarely on my shoulders the moment I lost Jack. For the first time in two years, my body had stopped bracing for what came next. I’d simply … let go and it felt like heaven. I wriggled backwards to get closer to Dylan and let out a sigh.

‘Mum? Mummy? Mum?’ a small, breathy voice called from the other end of the landing.

My eyes shot open immediately.

‘Oh no!’ I gripped the duvet as I heard the thump of feet followed by the rapid approach of little footsteps.

Dylan stirred beside me, trailing his fingers deliciously along my hip.

‘What’s up?’ he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep, that soft American drawl melting my insides all over again.

‘Sam’s awake!’ I said, my voice somewhere between panic and a giggle.

He frowned, still half-asleep. ‘Already?’

‘Yes! It’s Christmas morning! What are we going to do?’ I hissed.

Before either of us had the chance to do anything, the door creaked open.

‘Mum!’ Sam stood there, hair in tufts, pyjamas askew and eyes shining with excitement. ‘Is it time for Christmas now?’

‘Yes, darling, Merry Christmas!’ I said cheerfully, trying to tuck my bare arms under the duvet.

He was bound to think it odd that I wasn’t in my pyjamas. I never slept naked, ever – I doubted anyone living in a stone farmhouse on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of winter did. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dylan trying to slide out of bed unnoticed and put on his boxer shorts.