"A lactose-free milk chocolate for the lady, with just a hint of cinnamon."
I reached up to take the bright red mug from Mr. Van Der Yates' silver tray of sweets. He might have been off duty for the twenty-fifth, but that didn't mean he was letting himself sit back and relax. Rather, on Christmas morning, I very quickly learned exactly who Dex inherited his hot cocoa-making skills from; it was a family trade that his dad took very seriously.
His golden eyes glimmered as he looked to the sofa opposite mine, throwing his protégé a wink. "Let's see if she can catch the secret ingredient."
"Not a chance," Dex said, grinning right back.
I was cozied up on the sofa in his parents' chalet, watching the guys and their families open their presents around the tree. Blair and Noah looked up at me skeptically from their spot on the floor below, while Dex cocked his head and leaned forward in his seat. Even James looked unconvinced as he re-joined me, passing his red hat to one of Noah's brothers after a long morning of playing Santa.
I mulled over the warm liquid like a true cocoa connoisseur. My eyes widened the slightest bit, my heart lifting in my chest. No, it couldn't be...
"Peanut butter," I declared.
Mr. V's eyebrows rose to the exposed rafters. He shook his head, a hearty laugh rippling through the carols playing over Noah's speaker. "Wow. That has to be a new record." He nudged James with his elbow before picking up his tray. "She's a keeper, kid."
"Oh, he knows," Blair purred under his breath, though not quite softly enough to escape a look from his older cousin.
James' gaze quickly fell back on me, a smile lighting up his voice as he moved a loose curl from over my face. "I didn't know you had such a finely-tuned palate."
"I don't. It's just ..." I watched the marshmallows bob up and down in my drink, swallowing the peanut butter cloaking my throat. "It's how my dad made it."
Wrapping paper tore around us, a few of Noah's siblings shrieking with joy. But James and I grew silent as those marshmallows began to swell.
I looked up to smile at him, to reassure him that I was okay. And I was okay. I would always miss my dad, and Christmas would always be a reminder of every tradition we once had. But it wasn't ruined. It was a time to remember him, to remember the love for the holidays he'd passed onto me.
James' features softened, every shade of blue in his eyes glimmering in the bright light of Christmas morning. He looked tanned and golden in his white woolen sweater, warming me from the inside out when he leaned over to brush his lips against my cheek.
Maybe I should have felt bad about breaking my no-PDA pact with Noah, especially in front of James' whole family. But since Mrs. Bennet was quite literally sitting on her husband's lap, I reasoned that James' quick peck was comparatively tame.
Besides, it was Christmas.
"Jeez, guys," Dex's voice sliced through our bubble. It was low and monotone, devoid of the usual melody that decorated it. "You shouldn't have. Really," he tried to smile, looking positively pained, "you shouldn't have."
I relaxed into James' side, raising my mug to hide the laugh I couldn't hold back. On Dex's lap sat a heap of torn wrapping, out from which he pulled a bright green sweater embroidered with an equally as green person.
Well, not a person, exactly.
Mrs. V didn't seem to catch his sarcasm. She shrouded him in a hug only a mother could give, motioning to her husband as he sandwiched Dex between them. "Of course, darling. Daddy and I know how much you love the Avengers gang."
"Yeah. When I was six."
"Your sock collection says otherwise," James quipped.
To which he received the closest thing to a glare as Dex could muster.
James' chuckle vibrated against my side, his hand leaving my waist to direct Noah's sister back to the tree. "Hey, Clara-bear, can you pass Dex the candy cane parcel?"
The red tulle on Cleo's skirt fanned around her as she spun. "I'll get it!"
"He asked me," Clara huffed, hoisting up her green tulle for efficiency as she raced her twin to the tree.
"You're hanging up the Santa hat?" I asked James, feigning disappointment.
He nodded, sighing comically. "I think it's time to pass it on."
"Huh. Shame."
"Shame?"
I lifted my chin to capture his gaze, shrugging. "You make a good Santa."
While I was supposed to look innocent, I absolutely could not hide the smile that suggested my insinuation was anything but. I pursed my lips to hide it, but I think that only made it worse.
He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, looking quite proud of himself. "Wow. Santa, huh?"
I couldn't speak without giving myself away, so I simply shrugged again. Because, apparently, that dream on the bus was absolutely onto something.
James looked good in red and white.
Especially when, on the holiest day of the year, he had the audacity to smirk. "Noted."
I muffled a laugh against his chest as Dex pulled our focus once again.
"Shut your mouth." This time, his voice was as lyrical as a sonnet, alight with the same glee radiating off of Noah's siblings. "Shut. Up."
James' grin broadened. "I won't."
"You're joking. You're joking," Dex cried. His hands curled around James' gift oh-so-carefully, pulling it out from the wrapping as I craned my neck to see. I could just make a brown leather hardcover that looked older than my grandparents, embossed with brass letters that spelled out 'Shakespeare'. "An Imperial?"
"I don't know why you're asking James," Noah questioned matter-of-factly, "when it's from your Secret Santa. As in secret. As in, you know, anonymous."
James closed his mouth, but with Noah's back turned, he threw Dex a nod.
Dex's mouth fell even wider, his hands flailing between a desire to open the book and inhale every word, and the fear of even touching it lest it disintegrated on his lap. I knew nothing about Shakespeare—bar the fact that he almost killed me in high school—but I could tell that whatever that book was, it was worth a little more than the presents I'd bought for James.
"You didn't get that from the mall," I accused playfully.
He ducked his head. "Guilty."
I rolled my eyes, but my heart was beating so fast I worried he'd feel it against his chest. He was just so good, so sweet and thoughtful and kind. Not just with me, with everyone he loved. Even with people he didn't.
To think—I almost wrote him off in the dorm halls all those months ago. I almost missed the sun because I was caught up playing in the rain.
Cleo appeared in front of us, rather bashful as she twisted a strand of coiled hair. She extended a gift box to James, wrapped in familiar white paper dotted with silver snowflakes.
"For me?" he asked, plucking it from her small hands. He removed the lid carefully, watching me from the corner of his eye. "I wonder who it's from."
I chewed on my smile as he rummaged around in the tissue paper, emerging victorious with the first of five items.
A big red bow tie.
He blinked down at it dumbly before looking up again, shooting me question marks beneath a furrowed brow. "Am I missing something?"
"Why are you asking her?" Noah swung around, backing up against the coffee table to peer directly at us. "It could be from any of us. Since, you know, it's a secret."
With the Kris Kringle police staring right at me, I could only throw James a non-committal shrug. "Keep going."
He shook his head before diving back into the box, pulling out a crimson leash with one hand and a matching collar with the other.
He frowned again, cogs turning in his head. "Is this your way of asking me to come home with you on weekends to visit Bandit?"
"It's not for Bandit."
He peered between the collar and the leash. "They're for ... me?"
"You probably should have told Miss Fifty Shades that we do the gift exchange in front of everyone," Blair cooed breathily, his insinuation surely turning my cheeks as bright as that bow.
I threw Mrs. Bennet a silent plea, and she stifled a giggle with a dainty hand before slipping off her husband's lap.
"Okay," she announced, patting down her periwinkle pencil skirt even though there were no creases in sight. "I may have had a little talk to your friends about what I could do to get you to visit home more often. Naturally," she motioned to Dex and Noah, "these two were useless."
"Oh, yeah," Dex agreed while Noah said, "Can confirm."
"But this one," she continued, sweeping her diamond gaze from my head to my toes. "She might be on to something." She pivoted on her cream heels, lifted a hand to her mouth, and called, "Lucinda?"
My heart was hammering as I craned my neck once again, unable to mask the smile on my lips. I could feel James burning holes in the side of my head, so I nudged him with my elbow and pointed to the door.
Blair's mother stepped through the garlands laced over the archway, cradling a handful of golden fur as the kids around us started to squeal.
I couldn't resist anymore—I was practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. I looked back at James, pushing back the hair that'd fallen over his eyes to see the look on his face.
But he was still frowning, his expression still blank.
"Merry Christmas, honey," Mrs. Bennet said as James' aunt finally reached us, the bundle of fur still squirming in her arms.
James' mouth flailed between words as he took the sight in. The huge brown eyes, the big black nose. The fur as perfect and golden as the hair on his own head, the little face cocked in an expression that mirrored his.
"Wait. It's ... mine?" He peered up at his parents skeptically, as though he was expecting to be the butt of an April Fools' joke in December. "You got me a dog?"
"Yesterday," his mother confirmed. "Madison helped pick him out."
"What about dad's allergies?"
"The lady at the shelter said he's hypoallergenic. And if he's not," Mrs. Bennet shrugged, "we can always get rid of him."
"The dog?"
"Your father."
Mr. B thought that was utterly hilarious, and his wife looked more than a little proud of her quick wit as he pulled her back onto his lap. But James was still dazed, still a few seconds behind.
He peered at me, frowning, his gaze uncharacteristically guarded. "You did this?"
"It was a team effort," I said modestly, though it was most definitely me. My heart was still racing, but hope was starting to slip away. I searched his eyes for something that alluded to ... I don't know. Happiness, maybe, or something like the affection that had consumed them when he'd been playing with Skip's dog in the back of his truck.
Had I really missed the mark that much?
"Do you like him?" I asked weakly.
A scoff caught in his throat, his frown finally dissipating. His mouth widened into a smile that rivaled Noah's trademark grin, blue eyes crinkling as he reached up to pluck the pup from his aunt's grasp.
"Like him?" he repeated. "I have a dog, Madi. Do you know how many times I've asked for a dog?"
"I'm pretty sure you cried over it when you were five," Dex joked—payback for the sock quip.
But James was in another word, rifling through the gift box I'd given him to find the bright red bow tie. He stretched the elastic over the beaming puppy's head, straightening it out before scrunching his little face between his hands.
"My very own Sherlock," he murmured.
I laughed, toying with his pup's fluffy ears. "Sherlock?"
He draped an arm over my shoulders, inviting me into the huddle. "Well, we all know I didn't exactly live up to the title."
Blair smirked. "That is a terrible name for a dog."
James was floating too high to care.
I jolted in my seat as Cleo poked me in the ribs, handing me a small golden parcel fastened with a white bow.
"Thank you, sweetheart," I said, fiddling with the ribbon securing the box. It was the size of my palm, the contents heavier than jewelry. But I didn't even get a chance to pull on the string before Dex sprung forward.
"Woah, woah, woah." He laughed, sounding nervous and urgent all at once. "Let's all hang on, okay? Let's remind ourselves how hard it is to buy presents for girls, and remember that Madi's Secret Santa—whoever he was—tried his best. But that he also has the receipt in case she hates it."
Noah cleared his throat.
"I mean probably," Dex clarified. "He probably has the receipt. Okay?"
Noah huffed, content.
I threw Dex a soft smile, mouthing back, "Okay."
I tried to recall my poker face as I popped the lid off the box, though I never did perfect the whole masking-my-emotions thing. But it was anyone's guess what Dex got me for Christmas, and I planned on loving whatever it was he picked out.
Or pretending to love it, at least.
A small silver bauble sat amidst a pile of tissue paper, its decorative details glittering under the white light filtering through the skylight. I pulled it out by its blush ribbon, cradling it carefully in my palm.
"Dex, it's—"
"Open it."
He was still hunched over, biting on his nails while his eyes seared the bauble intently. Frowning, I looked back down and found a clasp in the center.
As soon as I lifted the top, my breath caught in my throat.
An ornate ballerina began to twirl in the center of a tiny wintery forest, while three woodland creatures—a fawn, a rabbit, and a raccoon—spun on a snowy platform in the opposite direction. A soft rendition of Silent Night drifted out from a cylinder in the base, pricking Sherlock's floppy ears and causing his eyelids to become droopy.
I was just as captivated. Just as mesmerized. And when I failed to speak, Dex started to babble.
"I thought—"
Noah coughed.
"I mean, your Secret Santa thought ... I don't know... it's like us," he gestured to the baby animals before motioning to the Sugar Plum Fairy, "and you. And, maybe it can help you, like, remember your first Christmas with us. Or something—"
The rest of his sentence was lost as I threw myself on top of him. I'd catapulted myself off the sofa and into his unsuspecting arms, nuzzling my face into his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Thank you," I managed to utter. "I love it."
His embrace softened, his voice bashful when he asked, "You do?"
I worried he'd hear the tears in my voice, so I just nodded.
"Merry Christmas, Mads."
"Merry Christmas, Dex."
He hugged me a little tighter, and I was grateful for the opportunity to hide my face as the happiest of tears trailed down my cheek. But, like every time Dex and I got a little too mushy, his smile turned positively wicked while mischief dripped off his voice.
"Watch out, Bennet. I'm coming for your girl."
In the silence that followed, I could practically hear James glowering.
Dex nodded against my shoulder, confirming my supposition and retracting his arms. "Yep, he's going to kill me. Get off. Off!"
I laughed as he swatted me away, hopping off the sofa and walking back toward James. He handed his puppy to Clara before I could re-join him, reaching for my hand and meeting me on my feet instead.
"Come with me for a second."
I tilted my head. "Where?"
He nodded to the door, pulling me with him. "Just come."
I barely got a chance to protest before we were slipping through the archway. Luckily, everyone was pretty distracted—the kids were playing with Sherlock, the parents were starting to clean up the wrapping. Noah and Blair were whispering between themselves, like always, and Dex's nose was buried in his new book. So when I was sure we wouldn't be missed, I let James lead me out into the foyer.
He dug a lilac box out of his back pocket, toying with it nervously before extending it toward me. "Merry Christmas."
I blinked down at the gift. "I thought you got Dex for Secret Santa?"
"I did. I organized this a while ago."
"How long ago?"
His grin widened, and he shook his head, but his eyes gave him away.
"Open it," he prodded, passing me the box.
My heart was thumping, my fingers taking the reins while my mind spun with predictions. But when I opened the lid and peered inside, my brain went blank for the second time that day.
"When I first went to Blair with the idea, it was a miss-match of trashy Pandora charms." He rolled his eyes. "His words, obviously."
"Obviously," I mumbled mindlessly.
"He doesn't usually do gold. He made an exception." He inched closer, lifting the present from the satin base. "I couldn't imagine you in anything else."
I raised a hand, grazing a finger along each handcrafted charm hanging from a delicate gold chain. A test tube and Pi symbol balanced each other out on the outermost sides, followed in turn by an ornate house key—221b, it read—and a tiny, detailed lion head.
"You are a Gryffindor, right?"
My mind was still frozen, my mouth on auto-pilot. "I like to think so."
My fingers toyed with the birthstone next to the Hogwarts sigil.
"A necessity for any personalized charm collection, apparently," James explained. "Blair insisted."
The gem reflected the light from the tiny bulbs laced through the rafters, and I was sure a jewel had never shone so magnificently. But I was still warring with the ability to speak, so James directed my attention to a miniature sun balancing out the sparkling birthstone.
"This was a last-minute addition, and Blair nearly killed me for the short notice. But, after seeing you in Capri ..." He ducked his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. I want you to have your own bit of sunshine wherever you go."
I could only shake my head as I peered up at him softly. "I already do."
He failed to catch my insinuation, focused on the last trinket that sat in the middle of all the rest. Something about it stole his voice, just like my emotions were stifling mine.
I followed his eye line to a small, golden heart.
"And this?" I prodded, toying with the cool metal carefully.
He looked up sheepishly, not quite finding the courage to say the words yet. That was okay. He didn't have to. I knew.
I knew that heart symbolized his.
Tears were brimming in my eyes again, and I stood silently as James draped the chain over my neck and fastened it. I ran a finger along each gem—a collection of charms that reflected his version of me for my eyes to see.
I had to be careful, I realized, more careful than I'd ever been before. Because I didn't just have my own heart anymore; that glittering gold pendant was a very timely reminder. I had his now, too. We had twice the risk, but twice the reward. Twice the happiness, and twice the love.
Only months prior, that idea alone would have utterly terrified me. I was so broken then, how could I protect my own heart, let alone someone else's?
But that was so long ago, a phase of my life that disappeared in the rear-view mirror more and more with every passing day. The girl I was now, the one in the driver's seat, she had enough strength to power a village. She had enough heart to love James the way he deserved.
I knew myself now. I trusted myself now. I knew I had what it took to keep both of us safe. And if I ever slipped, I knew he'd be right there to catch me. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to pick me up again. That's just what friends did.
And we were so much more than just friends.
I twirled around to face him, winding my arms around his neck. "Thank you, James." I didn't know what else to say. What else could I say?
He brushed his nose against mine, his eyelids drooping slightly. "Are you surprised?"
"Very."
"Really?" He chuckled, the rise and fall of his chest closing the small gap between us. He was achingly close, his touch sweet and sensual all at once. "I was sure you'd caught at least one or two of Blair's texts. He had a habit of sending me his mockups at the worst possible times. Like that night you ordered an Uber from my phone..."
He was rendered silent as my mouth flew open, the last pieces of an abandoned puzzle slotting into place.
That's why James was always quick to shield Blair's texts from my view. He wasn't sneaking around behind my back. He was making me a gift.
I groaned.
Audibly.
He nudged my nose with his, lifting my chin with his finger so I was looking directly at him. "What?"
I shook my head, waving the confession away. It was so not the right moment to bring up my tendency to hop, skip, and jump to unfounded conclusions. A change of subject was needed.
Luckily, I had the perfect one.
I trailed a hand down the neckline of his sweater, tracing over the faint woolen weave. "Actually, I happen to have something for you, too."
"More dog toys?" he guessed, arching a brow. He caught the cryptic edge to my expression, his turning just as coy. "What?"
My heart was pounding again, and I bit my lip as my stomach knotted with nerves. But that was silly. I didn't have to be scared. I didn't even have to be embarrassed. That's the thing about falling in love with your best friend—I knew James too well to ever be afraid of anything.
So I took a step back. I batted my lashes just a little bit more. I lifted a hand to the first button on my sweater, then popped it open before I could change my mind.
I was anchored to his gaze, fixed on the mirage of expressions washing over his face. I could feel the decadent red lace beneath my fingertips, the memory of how very sheer it was injecting me with the adrenaline I needed to open the material cloaking my chest completely.
James swallowed, trying harder than usual to keep his eyes on mine.
He was still hesitating. Usually, I found it cute. On Christmas Day, I was far too impatient to wait.
So I undid another button.
And then one more.
And then I was standing in the foyer of the Van Der Yates' chalet, my buttons undone to reveal a lacy scarlet corset tied with a thin leather belt.
James' exhale fluttered across my cheeks, dancing like tiny butterflies on my hot skin. "Are you saying—"
I grabbed him by his belt, pulling him closer. "Yes." God, yes.
Electricity sparked in the air between us, the same urgency that coursed through my limbs circulating through his.
Then, hesitating was the last thing on his mind.
"I'd like to think that I'm a patient man, Madi." His hand slipped down my neck, his eyes finally following suit to take it all in. To take everything in, slowly and vigilantly. "But you should know, when it comes to Christmas, I do like to have my presents open by noon."
"Oh?" My breath turned shallow as his fingers slid further down, stopping to fondle the lace barely covering my chest. "Why's that?"
He shrugged innocently, but the shadow corrupting his features was far from innocent.
"Because then I have all day to play with them."
I swallowed.
He grinned.
And then he wove his fingers through mine and hauled me toward the front door.
Reality sliced through fantasy, and I choked on a laugh. "James! We can't just leave!"
"You expect me to go back in there when I know you're wearing that?"
I tried to chew my smile away, but he was too close to miss it.
Because, no, I absolutely did not expect that.
He pursed his lips knowingly. He was so perfectly wicked in the most innocent kind of way, his eyes so dark and tender that I could barely find the strength to breathe.
"Naughty girl," he tutted.
I was sure that my lungs were about to give out, that I'd simply come undone right there in the foyer. "Are you going to tell Santa?"
"Scared you'll get coal in your stocking?"
I tilted my head, lowering my gaze before drawing it back up again. "I'm hoping to get a little more than coal in my stocking."
The air became thick as he drew a sharp breath, his expression turning deadly serious in a way that made me feel weightless. "Okay." He wrapped a hand around my wrist, tugging me harder. "We're leaving."
I motioned to the lounge, my voice as weak as my conviction when I asked, "Shouldn't we at least tell someone?"
His smile turned cryptic, still deliciously wicked. "I think Noah will cover for us, don't you?"
Despite the flutters rippling through my core, I couldn't suppress an ungodly laugh as he pulled me out into the snow.
Because amongst the undeniable attraction, between the desire and the lust, there was laughter. There was history, and memories, and inside jokes that made everything we said and did that much deeper. There always would be, and it would always be the foundation that kept our feet on the ground even when it felt like we were swimming in the stars.
That's exactly how I felt as James led me back to our chalet. When he lifted me from the floor and threw me on my silky sheets. When I flipped him over, sitting on top of him as he lay silently on the bed below, his breath rising and falling as raggedly as mine.
I removed the rest of my red sweater with a kind of confidence I never knew myself to have before, the kind that dared me to look him in the face while my fingers traced the red lace barely covering my chest. His eyes drooped dreamily as he reached up to place his hands over mine, caught somewhere between feeling my curves for himself and pulling me back down to bring my mouth to his.
"You are ..." A sound caught in his throat, one that stopped the world on its axis. "Everything."
Though I was the one sitting on top of him, I felt just as anchored. Just as tethered. The boy of my dreams was staring up at me as though I was the girl of his, the sound of my name leaving his lips setting me on fire. I didn't know how I could feel so dangerous and safe at exactly the same time, or how I was going to do to him what he always managed to do to me.
But I didn't get a chance to overthink it. He took advantage of my hesitation, flipping me over so I was underneath him once more. He reclaimed his position on top, throwing me a grin so full of promise it lit my nerve endings like a match.
It'd been so long since someone looked at me like that. The last time they did, their smile was merely a mask that concealed so many lies. But I wasn't scared of that possibility anymore, and not just because I wasn't letting my tangled mess of a past sabotage my present or dictate my future.
Rather, James was my best friend, and I was his. There was an inherent slice of selflessness in that, a mutual exchange of protection and an innate sense of trust. It was only in the midst of experiencing something so reciprocal that I realized how wrong I'd been all those months ago. That the inevitability of heartbreak is too subjective to be calculated, that swapping out just a single variable for another one—a taller, blonder, kinder one, who means what he says and loves with his whole heart—reduces it to an improbability.
Because with the right person, heartbreak is a construct. Love, on the other hand,
is positively inevitable.
My hypothesis was untested, and maybe my methods were biased. But as James and I ticked off the last item on our Christmas list, I knew it was the theory I was taking to the grave.
*cue the tears*
But happy tears!
It's been a second since I actually finished writing TCT, but as always, it's bittersweet to say goodbye to a cast of characters that have a really special place in my heart. Thank you so much for sticking with Madi and James (and me!) throughout their journey in The Christmas Theory. I can't express how blessed I feel to have such a lovely bunch of dedicated readers; the fact that you're willing to read a Christmas book in APRIL is mind-blowing to me.
So, thank you. Whether you've been with me from the early days of THH, or whether you just started reading this week, your support means more to me than you know. A sequel was never on the cards when I started writing Madi's story, but as our readership grew, so did my love for these characters and their world. In short, this story never would have happened without you guys cheering me on, and it's as much your story as it is mine.
A double thank you to the readers who commented and voted on every chapter! This sort of support goes a long way in helping the books you love find success ❤️
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Warmest,
Danielle x