Epilogue
SASHA
One Year Later
I’m not much of a singer, but I potter around the shop humming along to “All I Want for Christmas Is You”, straightening the displays and baubles displaced from their colour family in this morning’s Christmas Eve rush.
Winter has been unseasonably warm so far, but fluffy flakes have fallen steadily all day, settling on pavements and windowsills and rooftops, and even Bert and Ernie standing proud outside, bringing hope for another white Christmas.
The prospect makes me smile—waking wrapped in the warmth of Sebastian’s arms while the icy chill sweeps across the manor gardens and hills beyond. There’s something other-worldly about snow on Christmas too, like time has frozen solid as the ground, nature is hushed and still, and for some reason anything feels possible.
A knock on the window disturbs my trance, and Nia sends me a wave as she trudges past carrying boughs of holly likely donated from someone’s garden because the florist runs out of stock every single Christmas. I grin and wave back, buzzed and alive.
A couple more hours before we close for the holiday, then I’m heading home to get ahead of the food prep for tomorrow’s dinner. My first official Christmas since moving into the manor. I rarely cook for more than two people—that’s Sebastian’s wheelhouse—and I want everything to be perfect.
After that, our only plan is to lounge in our festive-themed pyjamas and watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Charlotte even persuaded Edith to join us instead of her usual Christmas Eve bingo night at the local retirement village.
Today is a good day.
With the displays tidied, I start arranging the gift-wrapping ribbon in rainbow order. My phone vibrates in my back jeans pocket by the time I make it to green, and I swipe to answer at the name lighting up the screen.
“Hey, Mum! Where are you calling from now?”
My parents only finished a two-week cruise in August, came home for three weeks, and booked a sixty-day world cruise shortly thereafter.
“It’s a cruising day today, but we left French Guiana and we’re on our way to Brazil.”
“Sounds lovely. I’m jealous.” I’m not in the slightest, but if a little bullshit makes someone else happy, I’m happy to be a bullshitter.
“Never mind that,” she says. “Have you got any news to share?”
“I don’t think anything’s changed since we last spoke. Business is still good.”
This time, I’m not bullshitting.
Thanks to the generosity of Walmsley, I’ve been able to keep my grandmother’s legacy alive, and thriving.
Six months ago, with my account back in the black and finances healthier, I managed to procure a business loan to help build Christmas-themed tea rooms in what used to be the stock room upstairs, opening up a whole stream of new customers and revenue. Now, people come for the Christmas gifts and decorations, and they stay for the festive afternoon teas and home-made mince pies.
To top it off, I finally hired part-time staff, and outsourcing the cake-making to a local baker has helped another business too, paying forward some of the generosity afforded to me last year. The difference to my mood and mental health has been astounding, like night and day. I’m no longer running myself ragged, and the time and space away from all things Christmas, at Sebastian’s insistence, has rejuvenated both me and my festive spirit.
I’ll never be Mrs Clause, but I’m no longer the Grinch either.
Most days I feel like the luckiest gal alive.
“No, I don’t mean about the shop,” Mum says, sounding annoyed now. “I mean personal news.”
Oh. “Um, no? Although I guess I’m officially all moved in to the manor now. The lease on the cottage ended last month.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. So nothing else to share.” The line fuzzes for a second, and her voice is considerably lower when she asks, “Brian, what time is it there?”
My dad mutters something in the background, and the pair of them snipe back and forth.
“Mum, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says, louder now. “I got my time differences all mixed up. Some days I don’t know whether I’m coming or going on this cruise.”
“Sounds like a good problem to have though.”
“Oh, it is. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it. Remember you can call me whenever. You know we still want to hear from you.”
A smile blossoms in the quiet. “I know, Mum. But just in case, Merry Christmas. Send my love to Dad, too.”
“Will do. Merry Christmas!”
The line cuts out, and I peer at the screen until it fades to black. “What the hell was that about?”
One hour and two customers later, the shop is empty except for Charlotte tidying the tea room upstairs.
At fourteen, she’s still too young for official employment, but she works a few hours here and there, tidying and making my work day fly by. We talk and giggle and gossip, and I love her as much as I love her dad, even if that love is shaped in a different way.
“Excuse me,” my favourite voice says then. Talk of the devil . “I wondered if you could help me?”
I glance up from the cash register not even hiding my grin. “Hello, sir. What can I help you with?”
Sebastian ducks under the door frame and steps deeper into the shop, brushing snowflakes from his coat and hair. He’s been here enough times to master the dip and dive around hanging baubles and strings of flashing lights, but it still makes me laugh watching his giant frame compete the obstacle course that is Mistletoe & Mine .
“I’m looking for my girlfriend. She’s about yay high, curly red hair, big tits and beautiful green eyes.”
“Hmm.” I tap my chin, pretending to think about it. “When did you see her last?”
“Last night, but she wasn’t in our bed when I woke up this morning. Ruined the start of my day. I had sleepy morning sex planned and everything.”
“Well, it is Christmas Eve. Maybe her business is thriving and she’s very busy, perhaps too busy for sleepy morning sex. Did you ever think about that?”
“No one’s too busy for sleepy morning sex,” he scoffs.
“Hmm. You might be right. What can your girlfriend do to make it up to you, in payment for her crimes?”
“She can get her gorgeous ass over here.”
We both crack at the same time, our faces breaking into big, beaming smiles as I rush into his arms.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi,” I whisper back.
Sebastian grabs greedy handfuls of my ass and lifts me with ease. It’s second nature now to wrap myself around him while our mouths meet and tongues slide. Somehow, every kiss is better than the last, and I lose myself in the pleasure of his embrace for the millionth time.
Charlotte chooses that moment to stomp down the stairs, an echo of all the other times she’s interrupted us this last year. She’s wearing an apron to match mine—green instead of red—jingle bell earrings, and a fun headband with reindeer antlers.
She takes one look at us and groans. “I thought we agreed no kissing while I’m here.”
“I don’t remember that.” Sebastian sets me on the floor, but keeps me close, kneading the flesh of my hips and ass.
This man can’t keep his hands off me, and I don’t want him to try.
“Did you put it in writing? I told you, Charlie. Always put important things in writing. People are sneaky otherwise.”
“You know what, Dad. I think I might. We’ll have kissing contracts and we all have to sign it and everything.”
I laugh. She’s so damn sassy sometimes.
“Maybe you should think wisely though,” I tell her. “At some point you might have someone in your life who you’ll want to kiss all the time.”
“Well…”
Charlotte narrows her eyes, curious now. “Keep talking.”
“I’m just saying, think ahead. If we have to sign kissing contracts, so will you in future, if and when you’re ready. It’s only fair.”
“Hmm. You make a good point, Sash. We’ll scrap the contracts for now and talk about this later.”
Sebastian doesn’t match my laughter. Instead, he stares off unseeing, probably distracted by the possibility of Charlotte’s future boyfriends or girlfriends yet to come.
“I’m gonna pretend that didn’t happen,” he says flatly.
I give his chest a solid pat, trying not to laugh. “Might be for the best.”
He sends me a look that says this is all your fault , and brings me in for a big, squishy hug that makes me feel safe, warm and so loved I could cry if I think too much about it.
Charlotte appears to have had enough of the pair of us and disappears somewhere to the back of the shop while we stand there swaying, locked in each other’s arms.
“I love you,” Sebastian murmurs.
I burrow closer, unable to hide my smile. “I love you.”
“Oh look,” Charlotte calls out. “No one opened today’s door on the Advent calendar.”
Huh. That’s unusual. The Advent calendar always empties within the first couple of hours of opening.
“Well, there’s still time for someone to open it.”
“Maybe someone already opened it but didn’t like what was inside,” she says.
“Uh, rude. Who doesn’t like chocolate coins, candy canes, and a teddy bear dressed like Santa?”
Charlotte opens the wooden door marked 24 and peers inside. “That’s not what’s in here.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense. I put them in there myself.” I march over to peep inside, my confusion melting the second I spot the small turquoise jewellery box behind the door.
I spin around instantly, pulse racing.
Sebastian stands there watching me keenly. Charlotte beams by his side, vibrating with excitement, clutching at his arm trying to contain it.
“I can’t get down on one knee, Sasha.”
“Sebastian,” I breathe out, a mix of wonder and disbelief.
“Open it, open it!”
“Charlie!” He laughs, shaking his head.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so excited!”
I pop the lid, and the glittering pear-shaped diamond ring makes my eyes sting. My inhale is shaky, a shred away from a gasp.
Sebastian treads closer, his question simple.
“Will you be my wife?”
“You really want this?” I ask him, even though the certainty is clear in his eyes.
He’s a man on a mission and that mission is me.
“Of course he does!” Charlotte jumps a bit now.
I huff out a laugh, heart fluttering all the while.
“I want it more than anything. I want you more than anything. We both do.”
My gaze darts between them, this lovely father-daughter duo who’ve opened their arms and their hearts, slotting me inside the puzzle of their family like I’m the longed-for missing piece. It’s enlivening to know there’s a lifetime more laid out in front of us, a stepping stone of moments we’ve yet to follow, and I want to jump on them all.
“Yes.” The emotion catches in my throat. “I want everything with you too. I love you both so much.”
Charlotte squeals, clapping and jumping while Sebastian cups my cheeks and draws me in for a gentle kiss. A promise of our future and everything in between.
“My turn, my turn!” Charlotte shouts a moment later. She nudges between us and steals me away for a hug, her grip fierce and tight, and I can’t believe this is my life right now.
“Is this why you delayed going to your mum’s?” I ask.
“Duh. As if I’d miss this!”
We’re still huddled together laughing and teary-eyed when her phone rings and she fishes it out of her apron pocket, an image of Edith popping up on the screen. She’s sitting in the manor kitchen, but everything is at an angle, like she’s propped her iPad on an uneven surface, and we can only see half of her head.
“Did he do it yet?” Edith demands.
“YES!” we all laugh, and it suddenly clicks.
That’s why my mum called earlier.
She knew. They all knew.
I briefly wonder if the rest of the village already knows too.
“Marvellous,” Edith says. “That’s one less thing on the bucket list to worry about. A year later than I’d hoped but we can’t win them all.”
“Gran, you said you made that up.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sebastian.”
“Not this again.”
“Be quiet and show me the ring.”
“You’ve already seen it.”
“Not on her finger, I haven’t.”
“Well, I haven’t had a chance yet.”
“Sebastian.” I laugh, disturbing the bantering back and forth of my new family.
There’s something poignant about it happening here, within the walls of my grandmother’s legacy. For a brief moment I feel her presence again, an invisible witness watching it all unfold, and the tide of emotion is near overwhelming. It’s comforting too, like a forehead kiss and a blessing.
I know, Nan. I know.
Sebastian turns to look at me, his gaze the softest it’s ever been. He brushes away the tears dotting my cheeks, plucks the ring from the box and slides it onto my trembling hand.
“Right where it belongs.”
THE END