That Maya Darcy had other plans for Christmas was the understatement of the year.
She had not, for instance, expected to take a very full train to the Cotswolds on December 23. Her original plan was to be in the passenger seat of her boyfriend's convertible, jetting off to the quaint English countryside to escape London. Instead she was in a cramped car next to a mother and her irate toddler and across from a bickering old couple.
It had all started with a note stuck to her door the night prior, written in Nate's messy handwriting: "Gone to Ibiza with Paige. Sorry."
It was officially the worst way to get broken up with in the history of getting broken up with. Not only had Nate, her boyfriend of three years and three months, left her for his secretary and told her on a piece of paper taped to her door, but he'd done so the night before they were supposed to go out of town to spend Christmas together.
It was midday by the time she arrived at Thistlecombe Station. The listing said the cottage was only a ten-minute walk from there, but with luggage too big for her petite frame and the excess baggage of a scarred heart and a broken spirit, Maya knew it would take her at least twice as much time to get there. She gathered her short hair into a tiny ponytail, braced herself for the trek, and followed the directions on her phone.
Always get a trolley with four wheels. Her father's voice echoed in her mind as she dragged her two-wheeled trolley along what seemed like an endless road. Why had she chosen form over function? The trolley was the perfect shade of teal, and she had wanted it as soon as she saw it, even though she'd known it would be more difficult to lug around than a four-wheeler. The thing was, she hadn't thought she was going to have to lug it around in the first place. The trolley was supposed to sit pretty in the tiny trunk of Nate's car while they enjoyed the scenic drive from London to Thistlecombe. She hadn't known she was going to rough it out like this and hadn't packed accordingly.
You've gone through much worse, Maya, she thought with a huff. She had been an intrepid backpacker once upon a time, back when she was much younger and had significantly less money in her bank account. She'd traveled through most of Southeast Asia with just a backpack, staying in hostels and taking questionable modes of transportation. She hadn't cared because she'd gotten to visit amazing places, eat delicious food, and meet fascinating people. She had very fond memories from that time of her life. Every long and difficult road leads to an adventure, she used to say, and she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
She'd seen everything as an adventure then. If only she could see this unintended solo holiday as an adventure now.
In truth, it would've been a scenic walk to Thistlecombe Cottage if she weren't so miserable. The street was lined with quaint cottages on either side, all beautifully decorated for Christmas, doors adorned with wreaths and windows lined with fairy lights. The village of Thistlecombe was popular for its holiday rentals, and they were always fully booked this time of year.
Lively chatter and laughter from inside some of the houses filtered out to the street, while fancy cars pulled into the driveways of others. More often than not, two people would step out of those cars to marvel at their beautiful holiday accommodations. Maya looked around and instantly knew they were everywhere. She was surrounded. Nearly every cottage in the village seemed to be rented by a couple.
Not only was Thistlecombe a popular destination for Christmas holidays, it had a reputation for being the proposal capital of the Cotswolds. Her friends had said as much when she'd told them about her Christmas plans with Nate.
"He is definitely going to propose! Why else would he invite you to spend Christmas with him, and at Thistlecombe no less?" they'd exclaimed. Maya had acted surprised and unbelieving then, but secretly she'd been hopeful too.
The wheel on her trolley caught on a rock, causing her to stumble. What was she going to tell her friends when she went back to London? She dreaded the thought of meeting them, all excited to hear about her holiday and looking for the ring on her finger. She was already getting messages wishing her luck and telling her to take lots of pictures.
A car zoomed past and turned into the driveway ahead of her, interrupting her thoughts. A couple got out of the car and hugged as they marveled at the cottage they would be calling home for the holidays.
"James, this is absolutely gorgeous! What a lovely surprise!" The woman ran into his arms for a long hug. Maya could only let out a huff.
***
It took another half hour of trolley stumbles and lovey-dovey couples before Maya finally got a glimpse of her destination. Across the street from where she stood was Thistlecombe Cottage, looking like it had come straight out of a wintry fairy tale. Its thatched roof and honey-colored walls were exactly what the cottages in storybooks were made of.
Maybe the stories she'd read online about Thistlecombe Cottage being a magical place of happy endings were true. Maybe it was the magic of a place she had been dreaming about finally coming to life before her very eyes. Maybe it was relief in knowing she didn't need to lug her luggage around anymore. Whatever it was, Maya felt the heavy feeling in her chest lighten ever so slightly at the sight of Thistlecombe Cottage. It was the Christmas cottage she'd been dreaming about since she was a little girl spending sunny holidays in California and wishing for snow. And while she had already celebrated a few snowy Christmases in London, a coy holiday in the English countryside just had a different, more magical feeling.
For the first time since she'd left London that morning, she found herself excited at the prospect of this holiday. It didn't matter that she was going to be on her own. Maybe that was a good thing. She could already imagine herself cooped up inside the cottage, warm under a cozy blanket by the fire and reading a book while she enjoyed a plate of freshly baked cookies and a warm cup of hot chocolate.
Her happy and hopeful thoughts propelled her tired legs forward. This Christmas, she didn't need to be with someone to be happy. Eyes set on the cottage, she started across the street. This Christmas, Maya Darcy was going to be fine being all by her lonesome, alone but not lonely.
The sound of an engine approaching from the curb interrupted her tiny self–pep talk. The noise grew louder and louder, stopping her in her tracks in the middle of the road as a car zoomed into view.
Oh no.
Maya willed her legs to move. She knew she had to get to the other side of the road quickly, but her legs wouldn't let her, and she just stood there, frozen. She watched in horror as the car came closer and closer until she couldn't watch anymore, too terrified of what she knew was about to happen. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and—
There was a loud screech of tires against pavement, then silence. When Maya opened her eyes, she saw a man stepping out of a fancy car that had stopped just a hair away from where she stood. If her knees hadn't already been shaking, she probably would've been weak in the knees for an entirely different reason, given the stunning sight before her. The man looked like he'd come straight out of a modern-day fairy tale, a contemporary Prince Charming, his long navy coat accentuating his tall frame, his hair perfectly coiffed, and his stunning deep eyes framed with long lashes.
"Are you trying to cause an accident, miss?" The man took long strides toward her, gaze intense.
While the scowl didn't take away from his handsome face, it triggered something in Maya. She'd expected him to ask if she was okay, to be apologetic for nearly hitting her with his car, yet there he was, affronted by her as if she had been the one who had almost caused an accident.
"Y-you were the one driving past the speed limit on a curve!"
Much to her surprise, the man let out a laugh. "I assure you I was driving within the speed limit, miss. If I hadn't been, I wouldn't have been able to step on the brakes fast enough for us to be talking to each other like this."
The implication sent a shiver down Maya's spine. She could've been seriously hurt—or worse—yet here was this guy, who was to blame for it all, smirking with an infuriatingly smug look about him and blaming her!
"You could've killed me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she felt her eyes well up with tears.
The man stepped closer, towering over her, gaze still intense, voice low. "You could've made me a murderer."
"It's not my fault you were driving so fast without a care for pedestrians!"
"It's not my fault you were standing in the middle of the road like a lost deer!"
"Ms. Darcy? Mr. Crawford?" The gentle, cheerful voice caused them to turn their heads toward the cottage, where a portly woman stood by the side of the road. She seemed to have witnessed the whole scene and their squabbling.
"Yes?" Maya and the man answered in unison.
"You're both finally here! Welcome. I'm Eudora Bean."
Maya remembered the name from their email exchanges. Eudora had been very accommodating when she'd booked Thistlecombe Cottage months prior. She'd remained very accommodating when Maya had called her in tears the night before, trying to explain between sobs that because she didn't have a boyfriend to spend the holidays with anymore, she would need to have her booking cancelled.
Except not long after the cancellation, it had dawned on Maya that if she was going to be alone and miserable at Christmas, she at least deserved to be alone and miserable in a quaint cottage in the beautiful English countryside. So she had called Eudora again, still in tears, begging to please give her back the booking. Thankfully, Eudora had assured her she had it all sorted and Maya could stay in the cottage as planned.
"There's been a little bit of a mix-up," Eudora told them, her smile and cheerful tone betraying the bad news. "Why don't you come inside so we can talk?"
Maya and the man—Mr. Crawford—exchanged glares, but they followed Eudora's lead, Maya walking with her while he parked his car in front of the cottage.
"I'm so happy you're both here, but we have a bit of a situation," Eudora began as they took a seat around the small dining table. "Ms. Darcy, I am so sorry about your unexpected circumstances. I can't imagine anything worse than being broken up with right before a trip. And on Christmas, no less!"
Maya felt her cheeks flush at Eudora's casual mention of her ill-timed breakup. In the corner of her eye, she could see Mr. Crawford smirking.
"When you cancelled your reservation, I thought I would ask Mr. Crawford if he was interested in renting the cottage earlier than he had originally planned. You see, he was arriving on the twenty-sixth and staying at the cottage after you, but I figured he might want to start his holiday early. I was delighted to hear that he did, so I booked him for a stay for Christmas until New Year's.
"But then you called again, Ms. Darcy, asking if you could keep your reservation, and you sounded so forlorn on the phone that I couldn't possibly say no. I meant to inform Mr. Crawford that I had given you back your reservation, but things got so terribly busy that it slipped my mind, and now you're both here."
Maya cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, but what exactly are you saying?"
"The cottage is double-booked from today until the twenty-sixth. By the two of you."
"What? No!" Maya exclaimed.
Mr. Crawford chimed in. "This is unacceptable."
"He should leave. We—I—booked first," Maya insisted.
"But I was offered the booking"—he turned to Maya—"because you cancelled yours!"
"I understand these are not the most ideal of circumstances," Eudora said, voice soothing. "But the cottage has more than enough room for three people. Mr. Crawford, when should we expect your girlfriend to arrive?"
"Please, call me Asher." It was Mr. Crawford's turn to clear his throat. "And she's not coming."
Eudora gasped. "Oh my. You too? I'm so sorry."
Now it was Maya's turn to smirk.
Eudora shook her head in disbelief. "This is very strange indeed. The cottage is known to bring love, yet here you two are, both heartbroken."
"I'm not," Maya said at the same time Mr. Crawford exclaimed, "I'm fine."
Eudora could only chuckle. "Well, since it's only going to be the two of you, this should be easy to settle! You wouldn't mind sharing the cottage until Christmas, would you? It's not the most ideal setup, but it's the holidays! Perhaps you can find it in your hearts to make some adjustments?"
Eudora's optimism was contagious. With her prodding, Maya suddenly felt like this wasn't such a big deal. Besides, she was not under any circumstances going to take another packed train back to London to go home to her tiny, lonely apartment for the holidays. Glancing at the man next to her, she sensed he was thinking the same, keen on avoiding a long drive back to the city.
"I guess we don't have a choice." Maya tried to smile as she turned to him.
Mr. Crawford nodded. "We're already here."
"And it's Christmas!" Eudora chimed in.
"We can make it work," Mr. Crawford said. They locked eyes, and Maya nodded in agreement. A truce.
That Maya Darcy would be spending Christmas in a cottage with a complete stranger was definitely not part of the plan.