Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
SEBASTIAN
Five days later, I sit in Sasha’s tiny cottage living room with a melting ice pack strapped to my knee. I don’t really need the ice anymore, but I’m not taking any chances.
Charlotte and Sasha work together to unload the boxes of decorations after my daughter’s insistence on helping decorate her Christmas tree.
“You can have the annoying task of detangling these lights,” Sasha says, dumping a knotted mass of wires in my lap. “I can’t do it again.”
“I can do that. But you should really detangle them as you take them down the previous year. Makes things easier.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. Tell me more, smart ass.”
“That’s your name, not mine,” I tease.
“Look, every year I start with the best of intentions, but by the time I take down the lights I can’t be bothered anymore, so I just stuff everything in the box and make it future Sasha’s problem, okay? Except this year, it’s your problem.”
The air crackles as I match her grin. It’s probably a good thing my daughter is here with us because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist this burning attraction while the memory of our kiss still lingers, and I want her so damn much.
If I had my way, I would’ve stretched out on the floor the second I arrived and demanded Sasha sit on my face, if only because I’m not sure I’ll fit in her bed.
I want her to suffocate me, for fuck’s sake.
This lust is a danger to my goddamn life at this point.
Sasha must sense the dirty thoughts crawling through my mind as she tears her gaze away, her inhale sharp. She throws her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, guiding her through the box of baubles and the story behind them, as if somehow that will distract from the fact I’d like to shove my cock down her throat, if she’s willing of course.
“Do you know what I really want to know?” Charlotte says, pinching at the twine of a glittering gold bauble. “Why is your shop called Mistletoe & Mine ?”
“No one’s ever asked me that before. But it’s a cute story. Romantic too.”
Charlotte beams at this. “I love romance.”
“Since when?”
“Since always, Dad. Keep up.”
Sasha snort laughs.
“Well then. I stand corrected.”
“Carry on, Sasha.”
We smile at each other above my bossy daughter’s head.
“Well, Nan and Granddad always loved Christmas, even before they opened the shop.” Sasha hands one end of an artificial garland to Charlotte, and they set about draping it over the mantlepiece and fluffing the branches. “Their cottage always had the most lights and decorations to the point where it became a bit of a village attraction and they started raising money for charity from all the visitors.”
“That’s cool.”
“Right? Well, it was my granddad’s task to go hunting for holly and mistletoe so Nan could make door wreaths and garlands. It was all real foliage too, not like this fake one. Finding holly was easy, but mistletoe was a nightmare.”
“Oh no. What did he do?”
“My nan told him not to worry and it wasn’t important, but he was having none of that. He always wanted her to have what she wanted no matter what. So he started visiting different nature reserves all over the Cotswolds. Eventually, he found a mistletoe bush and that became his secret stash for years.”
“He was on a mission,” Charlotte adds, totally invested now.
“When he got back from that mission, he lifted the mistletoe in the air, wanting a kiss for all his efforts, calling out ‘Mistletoe!’ announcing his big success. ‘And mine’ was something Nan said before she gave him his much earned kiss.”
“Aw, that’s so cute!”
“They were sickeningly adorable sometimes,” Sasha says, voice soft with fondness. “It became the thing they did every time he came back with mistletoe. I think it started out as something silly, but in the end it was another way of saying ‘I love you’. I don’t think they even talked about naming the shop after that, it just always was somehow. Like magic.”
“I love stories about olden times,” Charlotte says dreamily. “Do you think you guys will have a story like that?”
Sasha’s smile fades and she sends me a look like she doesn’t know what to say.
I’m not sure either.
“Ours will be that we didn’t like each other at first,” I manage eventually.
“That’s… that’s right.”
Charlotte wrinkles her nose. “That’s a terrible story. Pick something else.”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Well, it should. It’s your story.”
We catch each other’s gaze again, and I can’t help but think yes . It is our story, and maybe it’s my turn to write it.
A couple of hours later, Sasha’s cottage is decked out ready for Christmas. Multicoloured lights dot the frame of every window, and the tree flashes in a colourful mix of purple, pink and teal green.
“Thanks for letting me help decorate your tree,” Charlotte says as we stand in the front garden and make our goodbyes. “I had the best time.”
“Me too.”
Sasha returns my daughter’s hug with gusto, and they rock side to side, laughing the whole time.
I can’t wait any longer.
Watching them together like this, seeing how deeply Sasha cares for my child, how easily she’s embraced her, and accepted her as the fundamental part of my life… It overwhelms me to the point of distraction.
“Hey, Charlie.” I sweep a caress down the length of her braid, giving it a playful tug. “Can you wait in the car while I talk to Sasha for a moment?”
“Okay. See you later!”
“Bye!” Sasha calls out as we watch Charlotte race off to the Land Rover parked across the road.
When I look back, Sasha’s still watching her with a smile, and the fondness lighting her eyes is almost too much.
“I like you,” I tell her.
She seems amused by this. “I like you too.”
I shuffle closer, enough that she has to arch her neck to look at me.
“I’m obscenely attracted to you, Sasha.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth drops. “What?” she whispers.
“I needed you to know that because we could have a story of our own, if you wanted it.” I seize her hand, clasping it fully. With our difference in size, my fingertips settle on the soft skin of her inner wrist where the tremble of her pulse is strong. “Something real.”
“This was supposed to be fake. That’s what you said.”
“I’ve said a lot of dumb shit over the years.”
Her amusement is a brief light, disappearing a second later, and she looks like she’s gearing up to confess something but doesn’t know how or where to start. “I’m attracted to you too. Obviously. But?—”
“No.” My stomach flips at her admittance, a sensation I don’t think I’ve had before. “No buts. I’ll take the first part of what you said. The end.”
“Sebastian. It can’t be that easy.”
“What if it is? Who says everything has to be earned the hard way?”
“We should think about this,” she says.
“I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks.”
“I… I’m a mess. My life… The shop…”
She’s floundering now and I lean over her, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling gently. She smells like citrus and Christmas pine.
“Think about it over dinner with me tomorrow night, just the two of us.”
She huffs. “Did you not hear what I said?”
“I heard it. I’m just not sure how you think that would keep me away.”
“You’re being very annoying right now, you know that?”
“So are you, which makes us even.”
“Oh my god.”
“Tomorrow night, Sasha. Please.”
Sasha’s throat rolls around a swallow. She studies me for a long moment, and whatever she learns has her nodding slowly.
“Tomorrow night.”
I leave her with a lingering kiss to the back of her hand, and the fire of anticipation burning in my belly.