12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter twelve

"I don't think it's weird. It's a bit sad, though, that you feel more at home in three days with me than a year with your ex."

"Mmm. Weird," he says to himself, stealing a glance at me at the exact moment I glance away from the road. His expression's unreadable. I turn my eyes back to the snowy horizon and adjust my grip on the wheel.

*

"This," I say as I pull into the small car park of Abernathy's, the unassuming garden centre that pulls out all the stops, "is one of my favourite places on earth."

Casper peers out the window. "A garden centre? I take it you don't travel much?"

"Coincidentally, no. Unlike my parents, I've never left the UK. But, regardless, sometimes you just can't beat an afternoon at Abernathy's." I find a spot in the crowded courtyard and realise I feel better already, just being here. It's my first Abernathy's visit this year, not counting the January sales a good eleven months ago, and my spirts lift with each second.

"I can't imagine December's the best time for gardening," Casper says as he unbuckles his seatbelt. "I've seen your garden and I know it's buried under a metre of snow. Unless you have the world's greenest thumb?"

"I have the opposite of a green thumb," I say. "I can just about keep a couple of succulents alive."

"A succulent being..."

"A cute baby cactus. Notoriously easy to keep alive, if you're not me."

"Oh, then it totally makes sense that we're at a garden centre," he says with a clap, more of a dull thump thanks to his gloves. "Is this some kind of aspirational thing? You come here to imagine all the plants you could have if you had the faintest clue how to garden?"

"You're so impatient for a man who supposedly spent months following a star just to find the not-so-baby Jesus."

"I'm worth the wait, Bethlehem."

"That remains to be seen."

"No, you know what remains to be seen?" He nods at the doors. "Why we're here. I love a good mystery outing as much as the next guy, but the last one was, well, kind of devastatingly sad. I'm gonna need a warning, and maybe a tissue."

"Sorry." My heart sinks a little. "We're done with sad for today, though. Abernathy's is my happy place at this time of year, like some kind of winter wonderland. It's a total transformation – come back in a couple of months and you'll see." Leading him towards the front doors that hide a haven, I say, "I always imagined bringing the girls here before Christmas, once they were old enough. They would've been five yesterday, and I know they would have loved it – no child of mine could not like it here."

There's a faltering moment that could teeter in either direction, and Casper seems to know which vibe I'd rather go with today. "What if your future children are"—he gasps, feigning horror—"grinches?"

"Then I'll send them your way," I say with a laugh that covers up the lump in my throat at the thought of future children. Simultaneous excitement and anxiety fizz through my veins, and relief at Casper's attempt at humour. I want to be able to talk about these things without crying or making everyone around me feel horrifically awkward.

"I take it kids are a definite for you."

"Mmhmm. It wasn't something I ever thought about until I got pregnant, and once I stopped being absolutely terrified and decided I could do it, I couldn't wait to meet my children." My hands find each other, fingers lacing together and squeezing tightly. "It's actually why my last boyfriend and I broke up."