Chapter 26
CHRISTIAN
Christian walked out on to the ballroom floor, fastening his cufflinks as he went.
It wasn’t really a ballroom, of course. It was the eighth floor of Carroll’s, more commonly known as the restaurant.
It was a vast, open space, and it looked even larger now that the tables and chairs had been cleared out.
After his shift had finished that afternoon, he and Harvey had given the space a deep clean, and then a team of event managers had moved in to arrange the décor.
Now it looked like something from a homecoming prom, with every wall covered in glittery tinsel and literally hundreds of lights and baubles hanging from the ceiling.
The most impressive thing, though, was the view through the huge windows.
The skies were dark now, but finally the snow had arrived and it was falling fast and hard.
It was settling, too, making Fifth Avenue glow in the lights that adorned every building.
A twenty-four-piece swing band had set up in front of the windows, led by an amazing female singer, and they were currently belting out a range of Christmas songs.
They were so good that Christian expected to see Bing Crosby stroll out at any moment, a microphone in his hand and that famous smile on his face.
He straightened the lapels of his suit, one he hadn’t worn in years.
It felt a little tight against the muscles he’d developed overseas, but it was comfortable enough.
His head was ringing from his visit home.
He’d spent all night thinking about his father’s words and feeling bad about them too.
All these years he’d blamed him for ruining Christmas, for making life miserable, but not once had he thought about how his dad must have felt.
It must have been so hard carrying on as normal after Mum died.
He’d done his best, Christian remembered that now.
It hadn’t always been enough, but it had been something.
He still couldn’t believe his father was responsible for sabotaging his own store, but he understood why he’d done it. It had been the only way to bring Christian home. And now it would stop. Now, at least, Carroll’s would start to recover. Christian would make sure of it.
“Drink, sir?” asked a waitress, offering him a glass of champagne from a silver tray.
“No, thank you,” he said.
She looked him up and down, fanning her face with her free hand as she walked away.
The band had switched to a lively jazz version of ‘Jingle Bells’, the singer belting out the words with such gusto that even Christian found himself tapping his feet.
The crowd were going wild, people whooping as they danced.
There had always been a ball at Carroll’s.
They’d been a New York tradition for over a hundred years.
Christian’s granddad, Cornelius, had started them way back in the roaring twenties, and Lewis had taken them on.
Christian vividly remembered them from his childhood, dancing with the staff, having his hair ruffled by the perfume girls, and always joining in with the band, singing seasonal numbers on the microphone in his squeaky voice.
Even the year that his mum died, his dad had made sure the ball went ahead, although that year most of the staff had worn black to honour her.
This year there was a festival of colour in the room — two hundred people or more in sensational dresses and well-fitting suits.
Christian recognised a few from his time in the store, but he knew that there would be plenty of people here who’d won a ticket on the famous Carroll’s lottery.
Some were dancing, others already attacking the buffet that stretched the entire length of the room.
There was only one person he was interested in seeing, though.
He searched the crowds, looking for Merry.
He was giddy with excitement at the thought of seeing her, and that wasn’t just a turn of phrase — he actually felt light-headed.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this much anticipation before a date, not even back in high school.
It had just gone seven, and he knew she’d be here soon, but the anticipation of seeing her fizzed like electricity inside his head.
Then he turned, and there she was.
Holy fuck. His heart paused for a moment as he took in what he saw. She swept into the room in a swirl of black and silver. The dress looked stunning on her, but it was her that he saw — her amazing smile, her eyes bright with excitement.
Merry moved first, weaving through the crowd. Christian met her halfway, pulling her into a fierce, breathless hug. He almost fumbled the gift in his hand, but didn’t care. She held on to him tightly, her laughter warm against his neck and, for a moment, everything else disappeared.
Christian didn’t want to let go. Not now. Maybe not ever. He buried his face in her shoulder, breathing her in — warm skin, a trace of perfume, something inherently compelling. His hands slid down her back, and rested on the rise of her hips.
“I’ve been going out of my mind,” he murmured against her ear. “You look — God, Merry, you look . . .”
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “So do you.”
Christian didn’t hesitate. He dipped his head and kissed her, slowly at first, but the second her mouth parted for him, something in him ignited.
The world blurred. Her lips were soft and warm, her body pressed flush against his, and he felt a sudden pulse of desire that made his grip on her hips tighten.
Merry made a soft sound and he deepened the kiss instinctively, for a second forgetting they were in public.
When he finally pulled back, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bruised and curved in a smile that did dangerous things to him.
“Wow,” she said softly, eyes dark with something that matched the heat in his own.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, that got intense.”
“And here I was worried you might go in for a polite cheek kiss,” she teased.
“Not a chance,” he said, voice still rough. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since I last saw you. Here, I have something for you.”
“You’ve already given me too much,” she said as he reluctantly let go of her. “I can’t accept anything else.”
“This is different.” He held out the box, beautifully wrapped in shiny, red paper. “Please. Open it.”
With shaking fingers, Merry picked at the paper, carefully opening the present. Inside was a black box, and when she opened it her jaw dropped.
“Do you—” Christian started, worried that she hated it. “I mean, if you don’t . . .”
“I love it.” She gently took the elegant silver chain out of the box and held it up in front of her.
Hanging from the end of it was the beautiful silver spiral that had once belonged to his mum, that now spun magically in the air in front of her.
“Oh, Christian, I love it so much. But you shouldn’t have. ”
“I didn’t buy it,” he said. “It belonged to my mum.”
Merry looked past the spiral, and he could barely see her face through his sudden blur of tears. He cleared his throat.
“She loved spirals,” he said. “They always reminded her of life, of love. Things don’t always seem to be going in the direction you want them to, but—”
“You’re always moving forward,” Merry said alongside him.
He smiled at her, frowning. “How did you know?”
“Because she’s right.”
“May I?” he said, and she turned, allowing him to fasten the necklace. The glittering spiral complemented the dress completely, a perfect finishing touch. He took Merry in his arms again, leaning down and kissing the top of her head.
And in that moment, something shifted in him.
It was like the loose strands of his life — the lies, the half-truths, the guarded pieces he’d held back — began to weave themselves into something whole again.
He felt it settle in his chest with quiet certainty.
After tonight, he was going to tell her everything.
“Let’s dance.” He held out his hand and Merry took it.
The band had switched songs, and one of the clerks from the store had taken the mic, belting out a Nat King Cole tune with a pretty good voice. Christian and Merry danced together, not a care in the world. They danced as if they knew the night would go on for ever.
It was only when the crowd started to clap that Christian looked up. The song had finished and the girl with the microphone left the stage with a curtsy.
“Any other takers?” said the singer from the band, offering the microphone to the audience.
“How about it?” asked Christian. “A duet?”
Merry laughed, then realised he was being serious. “In front of all these people? No way!”
“It doesn’t have to be for them,” he said. “It’s just for us.”
Merry hesitated. “Okay,” she said, laughing. “Okay, let’s do it.”
He took her hand, leading her through the crowd. People started cheering as they saw them, and the singer handed the microphone to Christian.
“Any requests?” the singer asked.
Merry smiled. “‘Baby It’s Cold Outside?’” she replied, looking at Christian.
He nodded enthusiastically. “You read my mind.”
The band kicked off, the music almost overpowering. It was incredible, intoxicating, especially when Christian lifted the microphone to his mouth. For a moment, his mind a drew a blank. Then the words began to flow.
The rest of the room seemed to melt away until it was just the two of them. Merry held Christian’s hand, singing her heart out just for him. It really was as if they had been put under a spell, a wonderful, unbreakable spell that would hold them in this moment like a snow globe.
They sang the last line together, reaching a crescendo.
The band ended the song with a flourish, and the crowd broke into rapturous applause, the sound of it pulling Merry back to the real world.
She looked around, feeling suddenly sheepish at standing there in front of everyone.
But there was so much goodwill in the room, so much warmth, that she quickly found herself smiling again.
Christian handed the microphone back to the singer and hugged her, both of them laughing into each other.
“That was amazing,” he said, and she nodded, about to reply, when Christian saw something from the corner of his eye that made his blood run cold.
His dad was in the room and he was heading in their direction.