Twenty-Six
“Merry Christmas.” A sweet kiss landed on Daphne’s cheek, followed by another more insistent one on her lips, and she couldn’t think of a better way to be woken up.
“Merry Christmas.” She wrapped her arms around Gillian and pulled her more fully on top of her. She loved how familiar the press of that amazing body had become in the last couple of weeks.
Gillian kissed her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. “This is the best Christmas morning I’ve had, well, ever as an adult. I’m so happy you let me unwrap you last night.”
Daphne ran her fingers lightly up and down Gillian’s bare back. “That’s not your only present from me … but it’s probably the best.”
“Undoubtedly.”
The sound of dishes clinking and a timer going off in the kitchen made it clear that while it had been their night to sleep downstairs, Hugh had already let himself in to prepare Christmas breakfast.
“Does that mean we don’t have time to go again?” Gillian asked.
“Probably. He’s likely making a racket because he’s excited for everyone to be up and start celebrating. On the upside, there will be about fifteen delicious options to eat.”
“I think I’ve already had the most delicious thing I could eat.” Gillian nipped at her earlobe. “But Hugh’s cooking is a close second.”
“I love when you get smutty.” Daphne laughed and shoved Gillian off her, afraid if she didn’t get up now, she might not be able to. “It’s still a surprise every time.”
“Glad I haven’t managed to get predictable yet.”
They dressed, stealing glances, touches, and a few more kisses along the way before joining Hugh in the dining room, where he had indeed laid out an impressive spread of pastries, quiches, sausage rolls, and homemade scones.
He handed Gillian a coffee and Daphne a mimosa, saying, “Go ahead, Darling, your new lover can drive us both to the family home later.”
“Please stop calling her that.” Daphne made a gagging noise but accepted the drink anyway, as the point was well-taken if poorly made.
Since both of their families were in Syracuse, Gillian had agreed to drive them all up together before attending separate lunches and afternoon events, then reconnecting in the evening with the intention of introducing one another to their respective parents.
“Are you nervous?” Hugh asked quietly.
“Are you kidding? My family will adore Gillian. She’s everything they wanted me to be.”
“That’s sort of what I meant,” Hugh said. “I kind of want to take her home to my parents.”
“I think she’d go,” Daphne smiled, knowing Gillian would likely impress almost anyone anywhere in the world.
“Morning.” They all turned to see Izzy shuffling in with bleary eyes and elf-shoe slippers.
“Merry Christmas,” they all exclaimed in unison as she made the rounds hugging Daphne first, then Hugh, and finally Gillian, who beamed, still seemingly inordinately pleased by every hug Izzy gave her.
She shouldn’t be surprised by them at this point, though.
Despite Daphne’s early attempts not to let Izzy get too attached too fast, her vast celebrations when she found out the two of them were dating made it abundantly clear that ship had sailed.
Hugh joked that Izzy was the first in the family to fall for Gillian, while he came in a close second, with Daphne, as usual, being late to the party.
Still, as she watched Gillian load a plate with pastries and joke with Hugh about Christmas carbs being a class unto themselves, she realized she may’ve been the last to fall for her charms, but she’d certainly fallen the hardest.
And who could blame her? Gillian had been everything she always was, except now as a partner instead of a rival.
She’d proven herself almost relentlessly thoughtful, attentive, insightful, passionate, and so very skilled at all the things she did.
And she did so many things. She’d cooked sauce for the family, helped trim the tree, lain awake in bed snuggling and listening to Daphne talk about her dreams into the wee hours of the morning.
Then she’d made love to her until the earliest rays of winter sunlight peeked through the blinds.
Every time Daphne glanced over to see Gillian watching her, she almost had to pinch herself, not because Gillian was too perfect to be believed, but because it still didn’t feel real that someone who actually was so perfect could look at her with love in her eyes.
She was doing it now, as they took up their spots next to each other on the couch.
“I like the shape of this one, from Mom and Papa.” Izzy pulled a long cylindrical present from under the tree. “Is it what I asked for?”
Hugh shrugged. “If what you asked for was a curtain rod.”
“No, it’s a fishing pole,” Daphne jumped in.
“I thought you’d merely wrapped up a roll of wrapping paper so she’d be ready for next year,” Gillian piled on.
Izzy rolled her eyes and ripped open the paper before letting out an earsplitting shriek. “It’s a fencing foil!”
Hugh puffed out his chest with pride. “What’d I tell you? You were born for swordplay.”
“Thank you.” She ran around the room and hugged them each again before waving it around to hear the “whoosh” cutting through the air.
Daphne had to admit, she did cut quite a fine figure, and while she knew nothing about fencing equipment, she felt certain this was the correct type and fit and whatever else it needed to be, because Gillian had helped pick it out.
And in a shock to no one, in addition to all her other wide and varied talents on display as of late, she was also transforming herself into an expert on the sport of fencing in rapid form.
Seriously, the woman rarely slept, though when she did, she always seemed to do so best within the circle of Daphne’s arms.
She smiled at the thought. Maybe that was one of the nicest realizations of all, that while Gillian was good at doing virtually everything all at once, Daphne had a special talent for helping her do nothing at all. It was a unique blend giving her peace and pride in equal measure.
“Can I open this one next?” Izzy pointed to another box, but Daphne shook her head.
“Let’s take turns. I want Gillian to open one from me next.”
Izzy nodded conspiratorially and snagged a box from under the tree before passing it over.
Gillian accepted it with a totally warranted look of suspicion, but still untied the ribbon and opened it to reveal a truly heinous sweater.
She arched an eyebrow as she lifted it to inspect the monstrosity.
Brown and blue, it featured polar bears and reindeer wearing red Santa hats while penguins strung brightly colored Christmas lights all around them.
Daphne laughed. “You didn’t have anything to wear to the ugly sweater party at the office, so I got you one.”
“I wore a sweater,” Gillian protested.
“Yeah, but it looked great on you. If you’re really edging away from being the full-time boss, you need to be able to dress like the rest of us riffraff. Try that one on.”
Gillian shrugged and, once again proving herself to be a good sport, shed her sweatshirt while Izzy giggled on the floor. However, as soon as she pulled it on over her T-shirt, everyone stopped snickering.
She did a slow turn while everyone stared in silence.
“I’m gobsmacked,” Hugh finally said.
Daphne merely shook her head.
“What?” Gillian asked. “It fits.”
“Perfectly.” Izzy sounded disappointed.
And that was it.
Perfection.
Every time.
Daphne fell over on the couch and nearly howled at the absurdity of it all.
“What?” Gillian asked again.
“It looks good!” Izzy blurted out.
“No,” Gillian protested.
“It does,” Daphne said. “You look adorable, like some model in a holiday catalog for Christmas whimsy and joy.”
“Really?” Gillian grinned proudly. “It’s not my usual style.”
“I think everything is your style.” Daphne pulled her back onto the couch and kissed her soundly. “Do you know how maddening it is that everything looks good on you?”
“No, please tell me how much it unnerves you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, not as much as it used to.”
“Because of all the other ways I manage to endear myself these days?”
“Something like that,” Daphne admitted grudgingly, “but you know I won’t give up on finding those flaws eventually.”
“Nor would I want you to,” Gillian said playfully. “You’ll just have to try harder with next year’s Christmas sweater.”
“Next Christmas?” She feigned disbelief. “What makes you think you have what it takes to still be here next Christmas?”
“I have no idea,” Gillian said, “other than the fact that I love a challenge.”
Daphne sighed, then kissed her again. “And I love that about you.”