Cosy Christmas ✓

13 / epilogue

For five years, he had lived alone. He had grown used to his own company, learning how to get by without needing anyone else, but now he had come to rely on the little family he had found himself. Each morning he woke up at six o'clock, an hour before Posy, to take Duke for a morning walk. Almost every day, Phoebe was awake and pulling herself to her feet by the rail of her cot, wanting to go with him. They had settled into a routine now: while Posy got a lie in, he and Phoebe had breakfast before he bundled her up in a winter coat and took her out in her pram with Duke on the lead.

He had taken to the child like a duck to water, curling up on the sofa with her any time he could as though she was his puppy: he never so much as rumbled a growl when she pulled his tail and played with his ears, letting her treat him like a giant teddy bear. It was as though he instinctively knew what was expected of him, knowing that Phoebe was someone to be protected.

Posy came in as he spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, and she watched him in the mirror with a smile playing on her lips and a gleam in her eyes before she slipped her arm around his waist and beamed at their reflections. "It's midnight," she said, her hand on his chest, and she kissed his chin before he dipped his head and met her lips, tasting the mint on her breath.

"Merry Christmas, Posy," he said, smiling against her cheek, and she grazed his jaw with her nose.

"Merry Christmas, Connor."

As soon as they climbed into bed, Duke jumped up on top of the duvet and turned round and round in circles before he settled at their feet. With a chuckle, Connor scratched between the dog's ears before he rested his head back on his pillow and kissed the back of Posy's neck. He draped his arm around her, pulling her close to be his little spoon for the while, and she held onto his arm.

"Love you," she said as she closed her eyes, her back pressed against his stomach, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her skin.

"Love you too," he murmured, his thumb idly tracing over her wrist as she drifted off. Posy always fell asleep before him, comforted by his closeness and the regularity of his heart, and she slept in longer too. She was a morning person by nature, but she never woke up before her boyfriend.

He could still remember the first time she had told him she loved him. She had been the first to say it, and at first he had wondered if it was intentional or if she had been overwhelmed in the moment. On the twentieth of March, a Friday, he had got back from work to find that she had struggled with an irritable Phoebe all day, both of them in tears when by the time he had stepped through. He had taken over bath time and dealt with bedtime and when he had thrown together a meal for the two of them once Phoebe was asleep, Posy had told him that she loved him.

At first, he had put it down to her stress levels and his ability to soothe her daughter, but she had repeated it later that night as they had lain down together and she had kissed him. When he had said it back to her, as though it was the most obvious thing – to him, it was – she had cried and kissed him again.

Now she slept, dozing under his arms as Christmas Day began, and for the first time in a long time, Connor was excited.

*

Phoebe was at that age where she didn't care about presents: she was only interested in the paper and the boxes, something that both Connor's and Posy's parents had warned them of, but Posy had wanted to go all out for her daughter's first Christmas. The tree stood proud in the sitting room, strung up with tinsel and decorations just too high for Phoebe to reach, and beneath it sat a stack of presents that she had wrapped. The little girl had no clue what was going on, but she loved the bright colours and sparkling baubles that she tried to grab. She had yet to figure out how to walk yet, toppling over whenever she managed to pull herself to her feet, and her hands flailed a little short of the shimmering tree hangings.