Chapter Thirty-Eight
Christmas Eve morning crept in softly, the pale light of winter seeping through the thin curtains.
Isla stirred, the quiet of her room settling heavily around her.
Juliette had left earlier that morning, her cheerful farewell still echoing faintly in Isla’s mind.
Isla had returned to her bed, hoping to fall back to sleep, but her apartment felt achingly quiet.
She drew the covers tighter for a moment, listening to the muted whistle of the wind against the windowpanes.
Outside, she imagined the people of York beginning to stir awake beneath a veil of frost, all excited about the season.
Somewhere a church bell tolled the hour, its sound both comforting and lonesome.
Rising, she padded across the chilly floor. Christmas Eve, she thought. For others, a day of gathering, of laughter. For her, a season of solitude.
She set the kettle on to heat. “Good morning, Darwin,” she said softly, glancing at the fishbowl. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
A sudden knock sounded at the door. Crossing the room, she assumed it must be Edmund, coming to organize her guard duties. But when she opened it, her heart leapt with pleasure.
Andrew stood there, cheeks pink from the cold, his long dark coat sprinkled with stray snowflakes. He was smiling, and at his feet rested a tiny Christmas tree. In his hands he carried a large paper bag.
“Andrew,” she breathed, her smile breaking free. “I thought you had left with everyone else.”
He frowned slightly. “Without saying goodbye to you?”
“Well ... you know. Everyone leaves to be with family, and it’s such a busy time of year. I just thought you might not have had time.”
His brows lifted. “I’ll always have time for you.”
“But ... family?” she asked softly.
Andrew held her gaze, hesitation flickering across his features, and she worried at what he was thinking. For a moment it seemed he was on the edge of saying something, but instead he gave a quiet smile and said, “I choose to be with you.”
At his words her heart lurched.
Andrew stepped inside, brushing snow from his coat and running his fingers through his dark hair. A stray strand flopped across his forehead. The warmth of Isla’s apartment misted his glasses, and with a subtle motion of his hand, the fog vanished, his palm glowing a soft blue.
“I actually thought you were Edmund, coming to watch over me.”
“I spoke to him; he had a lead he needed to follow and he knew I was planning to stay.”
“Oh.”
“I thought we could decorate a tree together this morning.”
Isla looked down at the small tree, and for a moment, tears pricked at her eyes. She had never decorated a tree with anyone before. Not wanting Andrew to see how moved she was, she kept her gaze lowered.
A gentle finger lifted her chin, tilting her face toward his. “Hey, Isla darling. What is it?”
A single tear escaped, and he brushed it away carefully.
“It’s just ... this,” she whispered, voice catching. “Decorating the tree. With someone ... not alone.”
Removing his damp coat, he hung it on the coat stand. Andrew then drew her into a tight embrace, burying his head in her hair. His knitted jumper felt warm and she melted into his embrace, feeling safe, wanted, and seen.
Pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, he murmured, “I wish I could have spared you all those lonely years. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere—unless you tell me to. I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time.”
Isla laughed softly. “Well, your competitive banter and teasing ways were a little too subtle for me to notice you wanted to be with me.”
He huffed a laugh. “I didn’t want to scare you off, or keep Aetheric secrets from you,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against her cheek. He moved away and lifted the paper bag, then took her hand and tugged her gently toward the table.
“I thought we could make a few paper decorations,” he said, then raised his eyebrows in a mischievous arch. “And maybe add a few personal touches.”
She smiled at him, now excited for the day rather than dreading it. “Let me just change, then I will come out here and join you.” He nodded his agreement and she was soon back sitting with him at the table.
From the bag he brought, he pulled out old sheet music with Christmas carols on it and a ball of string. “This will make a lovely garland to drape around the tree. And yours truly will add a sprinkling of snowflakes for flair.”
Isla giggled at his boyish enthusiasm, warmth spreading through her chest, as he darted over to retrieve the tree. “I thought asking you to summon a full-sized tree might be a bit ambitious,” he said with a grin, “but maybe you could breathe a little life into this one.”
She looked at the small tree, its branches spindly and needles slightly browned at the tips.
When Andrew set it carefully in front of the bay window, Isla lifted her palm, letting a soft green glow ripple over the tree.
Slowly, almost as if it were breathing, the branches thickened, the needles deepened to a glossy green, and a rich, piney scent filled the room, the tree now standing a little taller, ready to be trimmed.
Andrew spun her gently in his arms, and she laughed at his enthusiasm.
“It’s wonderful! Now ... let’s decorate.
But first, music.” From his bag he pulled out a record.
Walking over to the gramophone, he wound it up, and soon Bing Crosby’s warm, crooning voice drifted across the room, singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas. ”
Sitting with Andrew at the table, Isla’s heart felt lighter than she had ever known. Cutting garlands from the old hymn sheets was simple, but the moment felt special. She caught Andrew’s eye and smiled, and he returned it with a warmth that made her chest flutter.
Once the garlands were hung, Andrew moved behind her, wrapping his arms snugly around her waist. “Ready for me to add a little something to your tree?”
“Our tree.”
“Our tree.” He repeated his voice lower. He kissed her temple.
She leaned into him with a nod, letting him lift his palm. Tiny icicles and snowflakes began to form on each branch, catching the light from the window and reflecting it like scattered stars. Then, a delicate ice star appeared at the very top, glowing faintly in the soft morning light.
Isla’s breath caught. “It’s beautiful.”
“It certainly is. But not as beautiful as you are, Isla.” He spun her gently to face him. “Dance with me?”
She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand, and together they swayed to the soft music. The shimmering ice decorations cast a gentle glow, turning the room into a tiny winter wonderland. Being with Andrew felt like coming home for Christmas.
She gazed into his eyes, astonished that she hadn’t seen him this way all along. His own gaze flicked between her eyes, and it felt as if he could read her thoughts.
They slowed, the music wrapping around them, until he leaned closer, pressing his lips to hers. She parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. She felt his emotions—his love, his longing for her in his kiss—and she realized how completely she trusted him. She trusted him to be there for her.
She felt herself lift slightly off the floor and gasped, breaking the kiss to glance down.
Beneath them shimmered an ice platform, glittering in the soft glow of the decorations.
With a laugh, she threw her arms around his neck as Andrew spun them gracefully around the room.
Their laughter mingled, light and unrestrained.