A/N: Thanks to my friends on FB who have given me so much input and help with this chapter (if you're not friends with me, add me!), and the next chapter. @Bluebell84, @redwritinghood09, @twiddles_, Rae P, @fionarhiannon, @madametango, Maria G, Suvi, Sarah D, Suzelle, Sara, @jroriente, Kate C, Helen, and anyone else who has helped and contributed! You guys keep me laughing and motivated.
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“I’m not coming.” I pull at the knit of my sweater, then brace myself for impact.
“You bitch. You are coming. I’m about to get on the fucking plane.” Santos spits out, his voice shrill and about two octaves too high. I groan and slump back against my couch. It’s two days until Christmas. I’m sitting in my tiny apartment, wearing about three layers of sweaters and trying to forget that the holidays are looming.
“I know. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel like you shouldn’t go. But I just can’t, Santos.” I take a breath and then wait. The line is quiet for a minute, and I’m afraid he’s hung up.
“Santos?”
“You really haven’t talked to him in four months?” He asks finally. Tom’s face pops into my head, and I feel a heaviness settle onto my shoulders. I don’t want to talk about him, but he’s often one of Santos’ favorite subjects. It goes Cillian, Tom Hiddleston, and Zac Efron, in that order.
“We don’t have anything to say to each other. I don’t think it’s appropriate that I show up at his family’s home for Christmas.” I bite on my lip. It’s not something I’m happy about. Spending Christmas with the Hiddleston’s has long been one of the highlights of my year for the past two years. It’s just about the only “family” gathering I get to have.
This year, Aunt Tara called and told me I was welcome to come to their house for Christmas, but then I was told my father would be there. And I just don’t feel like dealing with him. Besides his bi-monthly call to “check in” and usually ask for money or some hand out, I don’t feel the need to see him.
And my mother is a whole other story. I haven’t talked to her in god know’s how long. I’m not even sure if she’s still in New York. Last I heard, she was remarrying someone she’d known for about three months. Good luck.
“You’re honestly killing me. Listen, I’ve got to get on this fucking plane. I will call you when I’m in Sandbanks.” Santos sounds angry, and agitated, but it’s nothing I haven’t faced before.
“Okay. Safe flight.” I sigh and hang up before he can start yelling again. I waited so long to tell him because I didn’t want it to keep him from going. The Christmas get together is just about all the family time Santos gets as well.
Just as I hang up, my phone starts ringing again. I wince, thinking it’s Santos, ready to curse me out again, but it’s not.
“Hi Mary.” I smile as I answer.
“So what are you up to?” She asks, her voice carefree and light.
“Nothing really. I think I’m going to binge watch some tv, and then rearrange my sock drawer.” I laugh, knowing that this is partially true.
“Holiday plans?” She asks, ignoring my flippant answer.
“Nothing really.”
“Well, that’s not sad at all.” Mary scoffs. “You’re welcome to come with me. I’m going to my ex-mother in laws. Yes, you heard that right. It’s a whole big thing. Not awkward at all. You can meet my ex, and then we can make fun of him the whole time.” She says with a laugh. I smile, knowing it must be quite a circus. I’ve heard a lot about her ex husband, and the fact that Mary still regularly sees him (platonically only, except for one slip up two years ago at a new year’s party, understandably).
“Thanks, sounds tempting.”
“Oh yes. Well, I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas. And I know we’ve been sort of skirting around the issue, but I wanted to tell you…well, really, offer you… offer you a full time position at Cleredon. I know that you weren’t planning on staying in London, but we’d love to have you. I know the gallery isn’t exactly living up to all your expectations. And I’d be chuffed to bits if you’d stay on with us.” Mary exclaims. Her words sink in, and I’m a bit shocked at first.
She’d mentioned bringing me in full time, but I had thought it was just a musing. The thought of staying in London, possibly permanently, was a completely new idea to me. Sure, it had become home in the last few months. Although it is far from Santos, and my estranged family in New York, it seems more familiar to me than New York. I love working at Cleredon and my friendship with Mary is a breath of fresh air. I know coming on full time would mean many more opportunities, as well as more hands on work with the art and artifacts in the house.
I can’t speak for a moment.
“Well, just think it through over the holiday, yeah? And we can discuss after the new year.” Mary says, her voice still chipper.
“Mary…yes. I mean, I will think about it but, thank you. Thank you for the offer.” I say breathlessly. She laughs.
“Of course, darling. Now just let me know if you’re going to come with me for Christmas. Send me a text.” She states just as my phone starts beeping. I frown, pulling back and looking at the screen. Someone else is calling. When I see the name, my heart jumps to my throat.
“Okay, Mary. Talk to you soon. Happy Christmas.” I say quickly. She says goodbye, and then I stare at my screen for a half second before switching over to the incoming call.
“Hello?” I feel my mouth go dry.
“Hi Gracie. How are you?” Tom asks, his voice calm and cool. I chew on the inside of my lip.
“Great, Tom. How are you?” Oh, we are just so polite and adult. It’s not that we left off hating each other, but it wasn’t exactly on the best of terms. And we’d never really smoothed things out.
“I’m good. I’m at my mum’s in Sandbanks. When will you be here?” He asks. I’m a bit stunned and I have to take a moment to pull my thoughts together.
“I’m not going to come this year. I thought it…for the best.” I say finally. Tom clears his throat. Well, this is uncomfortable.
“Please, reconsider. I know that we…” He pauses. “I know you and I...” He sighs, as if he can’t find the right words. Shocking for someone like Tom, who always seems to have something to say. Even when you wish he didn’t.
“ You’re still welcome here. My mother would love to see you, as well as Emily.” He says finally. What about you, Tom? Would you like to see me? I wonder.
“I don’t know.” I manage.
“Santos will be here soon. Please come.” He waits. Ah, Santos.
“Did Santos call you? Just now?” I ask, my heart rate picking up. Santos, that meddler. His hands in every pot. I shake my head.
“No.” Tom lies.
“Don’t do this just because Santos asked you to.” I say bluntly.
“Don’t refuse to come simply because you and I aren’t on good terms. My family and your best friend are all waiting to see you.” Tom shoots back. The bastard. “And it’s Christmas. So please, forgive me for being a giant knob the last time we spoke, and get your ass on the next ferry.”
Well. When he puts it that way.
****
The Christmas tree in the big room greets me as I walk into the house. Inside it smells like cinnamon and apples and cookies. It’s as if I’ve stepped directly into a gingerbread house. Only, I’m on the English coast, on a somewhat isolated peninsula. Same thing, right?
“Hello?” I call out, setting my bag down as I step inside. The house is surprisingly quiet, but I can hear a murmur of voices from the kitchen. I slept on it, and then managed to catch one of the last ferries over, after flinging together a haphazardly packed bag and hauling ass out of my apartment the next morning. I called Mary on the way, telling her I was going to Sandbanks to stay with Tom’s family for the holidays. Her reply was a lot of clucking noises and a few rather personal questions that I won’t repeat.
Being the last ferry on Christmas eve, it was pretty empty. It gave me time to set up some rules for myself for this holiday. The first was that I would not, absolutely not, have sex with Tom. Even if he offered me himself naked and covered in chocolate on a gold platter, I will abstain from his particular brand of indulgence. Second, I will try to forge some kind of real friendship with him. Something based on things we have in common and mutual hobbies, and not on the fact that our body parts seem to fit so splendidly well against each other. Third, I will try to relax and have fun.
All simple rules. All make sense for my current state of mind. It’s been two years since Richard. Two years since I first met Tom. I’m ready to move forward. I’m no longer working part time at a tiny gallery in New York (or I won’t be once I accept the offer from Mary. I’m dreading the call to Vera). I’m no longer a sad, lonely, pathetic post grad. Sure, I still spend a lot of my time alone. But I’ve always been that way. You can’t have your hopes and dreams dashed if you don’t ever vocalize them. If you never make them into solid, concrete things, then they just stay as they are—amorphous, vapid, easily dissolved figments.
“Hello?” a voice calls out from the kitchen, and then I see the face that accompanies it, poking around the corner. Emily shrieks and then catapults toward me, laughing as she pulls me into a hug.
“You! I didn’t think you were going to come. Santos said you had work—“ She says with a laugh. I hug her, shaking my head.
“I got out of it.” I lie. Good ‘ol Santos. Covering my ass since 2003.
“Iiiiii….don’t want a lot for Christmassssssssss.” A piercing voice comes from out of sight, and Emily and I both freeze, looking toward the big main room. “Thereeeee is just one thing I needddddd.”
Emily laughs and lets go of me, and we both wait. I chuckle, waiting for the big reveal.
“I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree!” Santos walks around the corner, his arms raised, his head thrown back as if he’s Mariah Carey incarnate. He’s wearing a jeans, and quite possibly the ugliest Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen. There’s a lot of sequins and white fluff, and possibly some kind of fake fur.
“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come trueeee!” He goes into a falsetto that I’m sure is making dogs bark all over the peninsula. “All I want for Christmas is you.” Santos walks over, kneeling down in front of me and grabbing me around my waist while pressing his face into my stomach. I laugh, wrapping my arms around his head and then yanking him to his feet.
“Mariah, I’ve missed you.” I grin as he laughs and we hug.
“Dolllllface.” Santos grins and stands up to his full height. We hug properly, squeezing each other as we rock back and forth. It has been some time since I’ve seen him. No amount of text messages and skype sessions are a substitute for the real thing.
“I’ve missed you.” I say into his shoulder as he lifts me up and then shakes me like some sort of ragdoll.
“I’ve missed you. Why aren’t you speaking with an English accent now, dah-ling? Like Madonna?” He asks, setting me down. I scrunch my nose at him and then smooth out my rumpled shirt.
“Shut up. Where is Cillian?” I ask, knowing there was no way Santos would be there without him.
“He’s in the kitchen with Mrs. H. They’re making gingerbread men.”
“Santos is really good at accessorizing the gingerbread cookies.” Emily grins at me, and then they both usher me toward the kitchen.
It’s good to be back at the house in Sandbanks. It’s a place that is really only full of good memories for me. Idyllic Christmas’ like I never had as a kid. Christmas lights, decorated trees, warm fireplaces and lots of mulled wine and cider. I feel instantly at ease as I follow Santos and Emily toward the kitchen. Santos is rattling on about decorating his cookie in couture, and Emily is interjecting about how Santos should go wedding dress shopping with her.
The kitchen is brightly lit and the smell of ginger and cinnamon are even stronger as we round the corner. I see Mrs. Hiddleston first. She looks up, her blue eyes full of cheer as she smiles and says my name when she sees me. I bound over, unable to hide my excitement. I see her more often now that I live in London, but it’s still not nearly enough. I embrace her, and she laughs as she apologizes for her flour covered hands.
“Merry Christmas. Thank you for having me.” I say, releasing her from the hug.
“We were so upset when we thought you wouldn’t be able to come.” She says, as she moves back to where she’s helping Cillian put cut out cookies on a tray. Cillian looks up and beams at me, his handsome face lighting up. I’ve met Cillian in person only once before, but we’ve talked on the phone many times. He leans across the table and we kiss each other on the cheek.
“Gracie, I’m terrible at this and I’m afraid Santos is going to leave me if I don’t brush up on my gingerbread making skills.” He grins, his gray green eyes flashing toward Santos, who is watching with a huge grin.
“No, never.” Santos throws an arm around Cillian’s lean waist. They’re an impressive looking couple. Santos is all dark, and swarthy looking. Cillian is icy blond, tall like Santos, but leaner. He has startling gray green eyes, like the rough surf of the sea in the winter. Still, when he smiles, his whole face warms, and around Santos he seems to smile a lot.
“Hi, Cillian. It’s good to see you.” I say warmly as I lean against the counter to see how their cookies are looking.
“You too, Gracie.” He smiles and lifts up his cookie for me to see.
“We saved one for you.” The voice comes up behind me, and my whole body reacts when I feel him. Tom slides behind me and one long arm comes up next to me, placing a plain gingerbread man cookie on a plate in front of me. I hold my breath for a second before turning slowly.
“Thank you.” I say as I turn, making eye contact with him. He’s got a few days worth of stubble, and his hair is back to being short on the sides, and a bit longer and wavy on top. He’s wearing a black cardigan over a black tshirt, and jeans.
“Merry Christmas, Gracie. Good to see you.” He says, his voice low. I can hear Mrs. Hiddleston to the side of us, talking to Emily about wedding plans. Cillian and Santos are chatting about their gingerbread cookies, though I can feel Santos’ eyes on me. He’s doing what he does best, pretending to look busy while absorbing every detail that’s happening in the room.
“Merry Christmas.” I say as Tom leans forward and envelopes me into a hug. I’m a bit surprised at first, but then I hug him back, patting him gently like he’s some sort of small child or puppy.
“How are you at gingerbread decorating? I’m abysmal.” He holds up a cookie that does look terrible.
“Let’s just call it abstract.” I give him a small smile and he laughs and nods in agreement.
“You can teach me a thing or two, then?” He asks. I press my lips together, trying to remember my rules.
“Sure. Can you get me a glass of wine, first?” I request. Tom smiles warmly and then nods, turning and moving around the kitchen.
“Gracie we’re going to a Christmas tree lighting in about half an hour, if you’re up to it. It’s in the center of town. They’ve got a huge tree they light up. It’s quite festive.” Mrs. Hiddleston says, handing me icing and little candy decorations.
“If you’re too tired from traveling you can stay here to rest.” Emily interjects as Mark enters the kitchen.
“Ah, hello Gracie!” Mark raises a hand and comes over to hug me. We embrace as Tom walks back over, handing me some red wine. I nod ‘thanks’ to him.
“Hi Mark.” I smile, and then turn my attention back to Mrs. Hiddleston. I’m tired, but it’s only about a three hour drive from London, so I’m not exhausted. “I’d love to come, thank you. It sounds great.” I nod.
“We’ll all pack up in the cars then. Mark said he’d drive, and so did Tom.” Emily says.
“Em, we should talk wedding details on the way over. Dresses, tablescapes…” Santos says, and then looks at me and smiles widely. “Gracie, you’ll be good to drive with Tom and Mrs. H, then?” He asks. I blink at him, and silently curse his name.
“Absolutely.” I say brightly. “I might go freshen up before we leave.” I add, turning to go grab my things and get settled into my room.
“Oh, Gracie!” Mrs. Hiddleston stops me. “I’ve put you up in the room at the far end of the hall this year. We’re renovating the two smaller rooms you and Santos usually stay in. And I’ve put Santos and Cillian in the guest room down here, off the library.” She says, turning toward Tom, who has been standing quietly at the end of the kitchen island.
“I’ll show her.” He says, reading his mother’s mind.
“Thank you, Tom.” Mrs. Hiddleston nods with a smile at us both. I follow Tom out of the kitchen, stopping briefly to grab my bag where I left it at the door.
Tom turns, taking it from my hand, though I’m perfectly capable to carry the small overnight bag by myself.
“Packing light.” He lifts the bag up easily.
“I can’t stay the whole week. Work.” I explain quickly. He nods curtly, and then turns and leads me up the stairs.
“Mom’s put you in the room next to mine. She got the brilliant idea to redecorate and do some renovation in your normal room about two weeks before the holidays. So, they’re not quite ready.” He says nonchalantly. I’m quiet as we make our way up the staircase.
“She has plenty of rooms. Your mom is so generous.” I follow closely at Tom’s heels.
“She is. And it’s just us this year. Most of my aunts and uncles are visiting with other relatives. So it’s small.” He turns back as we reach the top of the stairs, and the start of the hallway.
“Your room connects with mine via a shared bath.” He looks at me, though his features are dark in the rather dim hallway. I can’t really make out his expression, which makes me uncomfortable.
“Okay.”
“You look well, Gracie.” He says out of nowhere. I stiffen, and clasp my hands in front of me.
“I am well.” I shrug.
“Are we…okay?” His words are soft and clipped, as if he’s both worried and embarrassed. I’m surprised he’s asking, and I feel a dull muffled pain in my chest, like the wind getting knocked out.
“Yes, of course we are.” I shake my head. He lurches forward as if he’s going to move on down the hall, but then he stops and looks at me.
“It’s none of my business. But I…are you with anyone?” He asks. I consider lying, but I don’t see the point.
“It’s not any of your business.” I say quickly, not being able to stop myself from being a bit mean. “But…no.” I bite my lip for a second and then push forward.
“How’s Serena?” I ask, my voice bright.
“There hasn’t been a Serena for quite some time.” He says with a soft laugh. We’re both quiet. I shift my feet and then speak.
“Show me my room, Tom? I need to change for the tree lighting.” I ask gently. He nods as if suddenly remembering why we’re standing in the hallway.
“Yes, of course.” He leads the way, and then shows me to my room. He doesn’t stay, but sets my bag down on the bed and then gives me a quick smile before turning and leaving, closing the door softly behind him.
****
We bundle up and head to the tree lighting. It’s just barely above freezing, so we’ve all got on our winter coats, scarves and hats. Santos had to change out of his ugly Christmas sweater because all of the fake fur and pom poms wouldn’t fit under his winter coat. He complained about this for at least fifteen minutes once we got to the festival, before Cillian shut him up by buying him a hot chocolate.
“I’m going to take Mom to get some of those ornaments she loves.” Emily says as we settle into a spot toward the back of the crowd. It’s crowded, but not terribly so. We can see the tree a few yards away, and a sound system has been set up to play Christmas music. Most people are just standing around, chatting and drinking cocoa. Others are dancing, slightly hindered by their heavy winter coats. Kids are running around, squealing with delight that only Christmas eve can bring.
“This is lovely. I haven’t done something like this in forever.” I smile, looking around. We’re surrounded by shops, which have lights and candles decorating their windows and storefronts. In the center of the small town, there’s a large gathering area, where they’ve set up the tree and a few refreshment vendors.
“Me either.” Tom says. I look up at him, and notice how the tip of his nose is red, his cheeks pink from the cold weather. He’s smiling like he’s a little kid, and when he looks at me, he starts singing along with the music.
“Have yourself…a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on your troubles will be out of sight.” He lowers his head, leaning down and singing quietly into my ear. I smile, feeling his voice go straight through me. Sometimes there are moments that are so painfully perfect, you just want to remember them. Keep them bundled up, tight inside you. You don’t need to share them with anyone else, it’s just for you to remember. I’d like to keep this one.
I can see Santos and Cillian, leaning into each other and singing together in rather animated, happy fashion like bad karaoke. Emily, Mark and Mrs. Hiddleston are across the square, looking at tables set up with tiny holiday trinkets and ornaments. Tom is standing to my side, his shoulder and side bumping into mine as he sings—mostly to himself, but also to me.
‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ ends, and a contemporary, bluesy version of “Blue Christmas” starts up. The music sways back and forth, low and playful as the singing starts. Tom turns to me, and grabs my hands, yanking me into him as he starts dancing. I laugh, playing along.
“I’ll have a blue Christmas, without you. I’ll be blue just thinking about you. Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree.” Tom sings, and I join in with a laugh.
“Won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me.” We sing together. He dips me back, and then spins me before bringing me back to his chest.
“You kids are adorable.” Santos pipes in. Tom and I straighten up, and Tom lets me go, but we both laugh happily.
“Shush.” I scold Santos, feeling my cheeks warm.
“Do you want a hot chocolate?” Tom asks me. His hand is still at the small of my back, and I feel him press against me through my coat. I nod and smile, and he turns and leaves to go get us drinks. Santos steps closer, and throws his arm over my shoulder.
“Do you think your babies would be small like you, or tall and god-like, like him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at me. My eyes go huge and I elbow Santos quickly.
“Don’t be an ass.” I warn him. Cillian walks over, standing to the side of Santos.
“Gracie, he is gorgeous. Why don’t you bag that one?” He asks, his eyes following Tom to where the hot chocolate line has formed. I feel a tug in my stomach and I glare at both of them.
“I don’t think he’s…baggable.” I say with a nervous laugh. Santos rolls his eyes at me, and gives Cillian a knowing look. I’m sure they’ve talked about me before, and about my situation with Tom. With Santos, my problems are his problems. Cillian clears his throat.
“He looks at you like he wants to put you on his white horse and take you back to his castle.” Cillian says, rubbing his hands together as if he’s just had a brilliant idea. I laugh, not being able to help myself.
“Stop.” I warn them. Santos is about to speak, but then Emily, Mark and Mrs. Hiddleston come back over. Mrs. Hiddleston has a small bag, and she quickly goes about showing us the ornaments she’s bought. Glittery, delicate snowflakes and little fiber woodland animals dotted with fake snow.
“Those are adorable, Mrs. H.” Santos coos, holding up one of a squirrel holding a tiny acorn. Tom comes back over, and hands me a paper cup with a lid. I see steam rising from the top, and I cup my hands around it, warming them.
“Thank you.” I say gratefully. He grins and then gives his mother the appropriate “ooh” and “aahs” over her purchases. Emily keeps glancing at Tom, almost nervously. I watch her eye him up as if she wants to speak with him, but can’t do so without making a scene. Tom seems oblivious as he comments on the ornaments.
“Tom—“ Emily suddenly says, but then Mrs. Hiddleston interrupts her.
“Oh, Tom, I saw Kelly over there by the little shops. She says ‘hello’ and ‘happy Christmas’.” Mrs. Hiddleston says, pointing over to where she’d bought her ornaments. “You haven’t spoken to her recently?” She asks. Tom shifts and the atmosphere seems to change almost immediately. Emily stops moving, and I can see her watching her brother, her face stern.
“Oh? No, no I haven’t had a chance to talk to her recently.” He says noncommittally. I risk a glance at Santos, who has his hot chocolate cup frozen halfway to his mouth and he’s staring directly at me. He raises an eyebrow at me, inquisitively and I give him a tiny shrug.
“She was over there with her family, and her husband. Did you want to say hello?” Mrs. Hiddleston asks. Although it is winter, and rather cold outside, the air seems to get a bit chillier. Tom looks at his mother, as only a son can—slightly embarrassed, a bit annoyed, and something else.
“Mum. No.” He says quietly. Mrs. Hiddleston’s face softens, and she smiles at Tom, reaching forward and patting his arm.
“Sorry, love.” She says softly.
“Look, they’re going to light the tree!” Emily exclaims suddenly, pulling us all from whatever just happened. We turn quickly, forming a little line so we can all see. I hold my warm drink in my hand, standing rigidly next to Tom, who is staring straight ahead, his eyes focused entirely on the scene ahead of us. The tree is lit quickly, ablaze with thousands of tiny lights. There’s a general outcry from the crowd, followed by a sea of excitement as everything comes to life.
“Who is Kelly?” Santos comes up next to me, pushing his face right next to mine, his mouth by my ear. I glance at him and shake my head.
“I don’t know.” I whisper back harshly.
“Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.” He retorts, then puts an arm around my shoulder. Curious, indeed.