Page 40 of Christmas Is All Around
He leaned closer to her. “I have a younger sister,” he reminded her. “An eleven-years-younger sister.” He led her toward the cash register. “I know my way around some baby clothes, let us just say.”
Charlotte gaped at him mutely, so distracted that she didn’t even protest when he paid for the outfit before she could fish her wallet out of her purse. She seemed to have been temporarily deprived of the power of speech, in fact, her mind racing at a feverish pace ashe steered her down the crowded Chiswick high street and around a corner, until they arrived outside Ava’s flat.
Charlotte found her footsteps slowing as they approached the door, reluctant for the afternoon—despite its unexpected detour—to conclude. She came to a halt at the foot of the front steps, and turned to face him.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, nodding at the paper bag in his hand. “I’m impressed by your secret baby knowledge.”
“I’ve a large and diverse skill set, Lane,” he said, taking a step toward her and giving her a small, private smile that made thatdimpleappear in one cheek again, and that made her regret the fact that they were not alone, but instead standing on a public street at two thirty in the afternoon.
As if summoned by this thought, the door to Ava’s flat opened and she poked her head out. “Thank god. Please tell me you have something for my offspring to wear.”
“Hello, Ava,” Graham said, reaching out to hand her the bag from the—extremely overpriced—boutique. “We thought Alice seemed somewhat round for her age and purchased accordingly. Hopefully that wasn’t a mistake.”
“Grahamthought,” Charlotte clarified. “I’m not qualified to make size assessments of babies.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” Ava said, peering into the bag. “I’ve seen how you flee the room whenever anyone mentions a diaper change.” She offered Graham a grateful smile. “This is perfect, thank you.”
He waved her off. “Anything for a baby’s first visit to Father Christmas,” he said, bowing his head slightly, as solemn as if he were in church. Charlotte was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to whack him in the back of the head.
He turned to face her now. “I’ll text you?” he said, a slightlyinquisitive note turning it into a question. “We still need to choose a day to go to Buckinghamshire.”
“Right,” Charlotte said; that was the location of the final village she needed to visit—one whose lack of a train station meant Graham’s escort in the Mini Cooper was more or less necessary. “We can work out the details later, I guess.”
He smiled crookedly at her, hesitated, and then—despite the fact that Ava was watching with breathless interest from the front steps—reached out with a hand to touch Charlotte’s cheek, his hand warm against her skin. She took a step toward him, and his free hand brushed hers, his fingers curving around hers with fleeting tenderness, gone again a moment later.
He stepped away first—and then, with a wave, he was gone.
“You’re swooning,” Ava said smugly from the front steps, as Charlotte watched Graham’s back retreating down the street, his shoulders broad in his wool coat.
Charlotte opened her mouth to retort, but before she could speak, her phone buzzed.
Graham Calloway: To be continued.
And she couldn’t help herself: she smiled.
TWO WEEKS TO CHRISTMAS
CHAPTER TWELVE
So, let me be sure I understand this: this is yourfavorite Christmas movie?”
It was Wednesday afternoon, and Charlotte and Graham were en route to Buckinghamshire; their day had gotten off to a delayed start when Graham had to deal with some sort of Eden Priory emergency involving missing supplies for a gingerbread-making workshop. Charlotte had briefly considered rescheduling, but she thought that they’d still have time to get to their destination, make a sketch and take some photos, perhaps have an early dinner, and be back in London before too late. They were now weaving their way through the traffic on an A road north of London on their way to a bucolic English paradise. (Or, at least, that’s what Charlottethoughtawaited them, based on a lot of internet memes and a weird phenomenon whereby everyone posted the same clip from the movie every December 13, for reasons that she didn’t understand, since she’d never seen the movie in question.)
“Correct,” he said, his eyes on the road. He braked suddenly as a car ahead of them turned on their blinker and slammed on the brakes with no warning, then reached over to downshift. Men driving stick:another weirdly specific kink she hadn’t known she possessed until meeting Graham.
She tore her eyes from his forearms. “The Christmas Cottage? Of all the holiday movies on earth,that’syour favorite?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “It’s heartwarming! There’s a sad couple from London who rent a cottage in the countryside and fall in love again. There’s a lonely dog who adopts them,anda pig who becomes friends with the dog.”
This, at least, was an aspect of the movie Charlotte was aware of, because people posted a lot of photos of the pig and dog curled up together every year at Christmas. It was almost enough to make her want to watch the movie.
“And,” Graham added as an afterthought, “the actress in it is quite fit. I decided I was going to marry her when I was about ten.”
“Aha.” This was suddenly making more sense. “Which actress?”
“You know,” he said vaguely. “The blonde one.”
“Very specific.”
