A Little Christmas Rivalry

Prologue

SOPHIE

Six Years Ago

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ I asked.

Harlow ran to me from the front door, her pink backpack bouncing, and I scooped her up.

‘Bye, Mummy. I love you,’ she said, smacking a wet kiss on my cheek.

‘I love you too. Have a good day and be good for Miss Sharon.’

‘I will.’

I set her down and she ran back to the front door, waiting impatiently for her dad, tiny arms folded. Harlow’s teacher was bringing her new puppy to school that day and every child in Nursery was bursting at the seams with excitement.

‘Bye, darling,’ said my handsome hubby. He leant down for a kiss, grabbing my bum and giving it a squeeze. I started laughing while his lips were still pressed to mine.

‘You dag,’ I said, pushing him away, my hands flat against his chest.

‘Can’t blame a bloke for trying,’ he said with a double lift of his brows.

‘Yeah, yeah. Now go. If Harlow’s not first in line to play with that puppy, she’ll never forgive you.’

He grinned, which made my stomach flip – like it had every time since I’d first seen him through the rowdy Sunday-afternoon crowd at The Lamb & Flag, and his eyes had locked with mine.

A lot of my girlfriends complained about their husbands – my sister, Steph, did too – but I was completely besotted with mine. And it wasn’t because I was blinded by love – I knew he wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.

Which is why after a whirlwind holiday in London, then several months dating long-distance, I’d given up my life in Melbourne and moved to England to marry him.

We were pregnant with Harlow before we left on our honeymoon – not planned but joyously welcomed – and I became a mum at twenty-three.

It was fast, the creation of our little family, but when you know, you know, right?

At the door, Daniel took Harlow’s hand, flashed me another dimpled smile, and mouthed, ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too!’ I called out just before the door closed.

That was the last time I saw him. He died that afternoon of an aneurysm.