I hadn’t even let my brain dare think about these things before now. It was always completely clear that whatever was between us would be fleeting and short-lived. That had always been fine—better, even, because I didn’t have to think about anything but him when we were together. Not the future, not the past. Only now I couldn’t help but think about all the what-ifs. All the maybes. All these things he could have said but hadn’t.
I’d never really expected that he would.
It just would have been nice to spend this Christmas with a man as good and decent as Sebastian. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the past few weeks with Sebastian had been more fun than all the years I’d spent with Carl. I liked Sebastian, so much. And I thought he liked me. It seemed such a wasted chance.
“Promise me one thing,” I said.
“Name it,” he said, pulling away a little so I could look him in the eye.
“Don’t come and find me before you leave tomorrow. I don’t like Christmas Eve goodbyes.”
He swept my hair behind my ear and placed a kiss at the corner of my mouth.
“I promise I’ll just disappear.”
I didn’t want to trigger any memories about last year and coming home to Carl packing. Not that Carl and Sebastian were similar in any ways that counted. I just wanted to remember my time with Sebastian as it had been—carefree and happy and unburdened by histories or futures.
If being with Sebastian meant I had to give him back, it was a price I was willing to pay.
Twenty-Three
Sebastian
The final night of the Christmas market was in full swing, which meant it was time for me to leave. Despite protestations from Mary, I carried my own suitcase from my room to my car and handed it to Bradley.
I’d already said my goodbyes to Granny and told her I’d be back to see her after Christmas. I had to leave now to be sure of not missing my flight.
“Good to have you here,” Mary said from the entrance of the Manor. “Don’t leave it so long next time.”
I kissed her cheek. “Thank you for taking such good care of Granny. Make sure she does the exercises the physio gave her.” I don’t know why I bothered to say anything. Mary wouldn’t let Granny get away with anything when it came to her recovery.
I opened the passenger side of the car and dipped my head to climb in.
“Sebastian!” a voice from the dark called. Even though I could tell from the tone that it wasn’t Celia, for a second before logic took over, I thought it could be. And my stomach flipped at the thought.
Just a final kiss. A final touch. A goodbye.
“Barbara,” I said as she scurried toward me as fast as the icy ground would allow.
“Just a little something for the journey,” she said, handing me a plastic bag.
I peered in.
“Shortbread,” she explained. “And a Chocolate Orange.”
Memories of Barbara from when I was a boy flooded in. She’d always been so kind to me. Let me play with the decorations in the Christmas shop. Stopped by the Manor every day the summer I got chicken pox, bringing DVDs and ice lollies. I’d forgotten so much.
“I haven’t had a Chocolate Orange in years.”
Barbara beamed at me. “You used to love it when I saved you some for when you’d visit after Christmas.”
I nodded, remembering the scrunched-up orange foil containing three or four slices of chocolate that Barbara would press into my hand and tell me not to tell Granny about. I would always tell Granny—better that than she find out of her own accord. But she’d always let me keep the gifted chocolate.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy that on my trip.”
“Oh and this,” she said, holding out a giftwrapped square. “Celia asked me to pass it along.” She covered her mouth. “I shouldn’t have given it away.” She shook her head, chastising herself. “Well, you know now. She was your Secret Santa.”
I forced a smile. “Thank her for me, will you?”
Barbara fixed me with a look that said she really wanted to tell me to thank Celia myself. But she nodded and patted my hand. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I promise I’ll be back soon.”
I kissed her on the cheek then slid into the passenger seat. Bradley pulled away, leaving the Manor, the green, and a lot of memories, old and new, in the rearview mirror.
As we wound through the village, I turned over the wrapped present from Celia. George Michael was finally singing “Last Christmas” in the front. The music stopped abruptly.
I snapped my head up.
“Sorry, Sebastian,” Bradley said. “It’s on the radio. Shall I try to find something less festive, or would you prefer silence?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “You can turn it back on.” It was the one Christmas song I’d not heard this year. Anyone would think Snowsly had put a ban on it or something.
I caught his frown of confusion in the mirror. I’d been unable to enforce it in the office but “no Christmas music” had always been a strict rule in the car. After the last fortnight, I wouldn’t say I enjoyed Christmas music exactly, but I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it either. After all, it reminded me of the last two weeks. And those two weeks were everything I could have hoped for from Snowsly. And more. None of the regret at having missed all those Christmases as a child had risen to the surface. None of the dashed hope had emerged. I’d just had a really good time.
I pulled at the wrapping on the gift, only then realizing there were actually two gifts held together with the ribbon. I grinned to myself, almost excited to see what she’d bought.
Before I could tear into the paper, my phone buzzed.
It was my mother. She never called.
I accepted the call and braced myself for bad news.
“Hello, mother.”
“Sebastian,” she said, her voice soft and floaty.
“Is everything okay?”
She pulled in a breath on the other end of the phone. “I received your gift today and . . .”
I never bought my mother Christmas gifts. Ever. Not since I was a child. She probably felt awkward at having to acknowledge it. “I just saw it and thought you might like it. It’s no big deal,” I said, keen to sweep any awkwardness away.
“It’s wonderful.” Her voice broke as she spoke and a bolt of shock passed down my spine. She was . . . happy?
She cleared her throat. “I can’t believe you remembered the box. It was broken so long ago.”
I pulled in a breath, determined to be honest with her. There had been too many unspoken words between us. “It was the only time I’d ever seen you cry.”
“Yes, I was very upset. I would play it last thing at night before I went to sleep. It reminded me of you when you were with Granny.”
The way she said it proved to me that what Granny had revealed was true. My mother had missed me. She hadn’t sent me to Granny’s because she didn’t want me around, but because she’d wanted me to be happy. She’d wanted me to have the childhood she remembered.
“Granny said I used to play the tune on the piano.”
She laughed. “Over and over and over. But I loved it. And I missed it when you were gone. I missed you. And when it broke, it was like I’d lost you completely. It may seem like just a music box but it’s so much more. And now you giving me this one—it’s almost exactly the same—and at Christmas . . . It’s made this Christmas into the best Christmas ever, Sebastian.”