Page 58 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“Leave it with me. I’ll sort out a rideshare that will take all of us. This will be fun.”
My smile is confident, but underneath, I know—this issuperrisky. If it goes wrong, it won’t only be bad for me. It will be tough for her, too. She’s witnessed fans mobbing the band, seen their reaction to her brother. However, it’s completely different when you’re no longer an observer, rather the centre of their attention. At least here in the UK, most are a little more respectful than in some countries, usually happy to settle for a selfie. If I’m unmasked, there’s a chance the fans will be gentle. It’s the rabid paparazzi who are more concerning. I can hold my own with the bastards, but I’m not sure I could control myself if they come for her, too.
Seeing her bright eyes as she sips at her soup, I’m not going to back out now. Although I have to do everything I can to prevent this from turning into another Christian disaster.
Chapter 28
Day Nine
“God it’s so beautifulit could be Velaris.” My words are a fog in the icy air.
“The City of Starlight.” Christian’s voice is muffled behind the scarf he’s wound high to cover his mouth.
“See, I knew you’d like those books,” I tease. I love that he loved them.
It’s nine pm, as the staff member at the entry to Kew Gardens scans the tickets on my phone. The last timed entry slot has the advantage of fewer people. On a Sunday night, many of those with kids will have hurried them off home to bed before school tomorrow. So while it’s busy, it’s not too overwhelming for the dogs. As we rarely venture further than the little park one blockover from the house, this is a big outing for them. But they seem happy to be here—excited even—linked to us with harnesses and leads. They step along jauntily, looking so sweet in their Christmas jackets. I’ve got Mularkey, while Tully is with Christian. She’s developed a major crush on him. I totally get it.
Fewer people hopefully also mean less opportunity for someone to brush up against us and recognise the man who has me tucked in tight to his side. So far, so good.
And I’m enjoying the warmth of his body pressed to mine, because at this later time, it’s also way colder. We might get proper snow again tonight. Twice in a week at this time of year is unheard of. But we came prepared. We’re dressed like twin Michelin men, bulky jackets, hats, scarves, gloves. Christian’sWild For The Winwardrobe has come in handy. Suited for winter in Scotland, it’s more than adequate here, as well as ensuring hardly any of him is visible.
However, I’m not sure about the addition of his sunglasses. I know his very recognisable, piercing blue eyes framed by long lashes, and the dark slanting brows could still give him away. So covering them is a good idea. Although a guy in dark glasses on a winter night isn’t exactly inconspicuous. Strangely, no one seems to give him a second glance, so I shrug off my doubts and allow myself to fall into fairyland.
My arm linked with his, we weave our way along the paths. Somehow, tonight the decorations seem even more magical than previous years. Have the designers outdone themselves? Or is it the man beside me, his presence illuminating my life, like the bursts of light transforming the gardens, picking out the beauty that was already there in new ways?
Overhead, towering trees with wintery branches stripped naked of their leafy summer beauty, are clothed in winding strands of lights. They shimmer like galaxies against the black velvet night.
Waterfalls of light cascade over intricate archways, beckoning us to explore what lies beyond. We find tunnels of shrubbery swathed in kaleidoscopes of colour that shift and blend. Emerging from them, we stand in outdoor rooms where intricate patterns of golden light adorn walls of waxy green leaves.
Outside, shimmering fairy lights guide us along new pathways, leading us deeper into an enchanted realm. Gigantic sculptures tower over us, rainbows of pulsing light flowing across their features.
We speak little. There’s not really any way to describe this experience. It’s one of those things to be lived. When each new delightful surprise appears, we simply turn to each other, without saying anything, and I know we’re thinking the same thing: this is amazing. The trail might only be one mile long, but by the time we reach the end, it feels like we’ve been on a magical journey of a thousand.
And along the way, there’s been this luminous glowing ball growing inside me. It pulses, its light and warmth slowly expanding with each thud of my heart, with each step I take in time with his, in every squeeze of his hand and the way his arm tightens across my shoulder, pulling me in close as we pause to gaze in awe at each new marvel, under the spell of this place. I recognise what blooms within, even though I haven’t felt its nearness for so long. Happiness. Christmas makes me happy. But this year there’s something else. Someone else. Christian makes me happy.
We emerge into an open space, where stalls are set up around the edge, and bright music spills forward.
“You want some?” Christian tips his chin towards a food vendor. People are queuing for hot roast chestnuts. The sweet nutty scent, with hints of caramel, fills the air around the cart. There’s a subtle smoky undertone, and the rattle of brittle shells as the vendor stirs with deft movements. My stomach growls, our quick dinner of mac and cheese long forgotten.
“Oh yes. Chestnuts are a must. And there’s mulled wine, over there.” Another stall opposite is doing a brisk trade, the spicy smell from steaming paper cups wafting towards us. I can’t resist. “Let’s go for both. I’ll get the wine.”
When Mularkey and I return, the cups of wine warming my hands even through my gloves, we find a small girl eyeing Christian and Tully. Her blonde brows beneath a striped beanie are knotted in a frown as she looks him up and down suspiciously. She purses her rosebud lips, and the words spill out.
“Are you blind?”
Christian and I exchange puzzled glances over her head. And then I get it.
“Dark glasses, dog in harness.” I slide the whispered words out of the corner of my mouth while biting back laughter at the thought of Tully being a guide dog. She’d be better than Mularkey; with her short attention span, it would get wild if she was in charge. But I wouldn’t want my safety to depend on Tully, either. That obsessive need of hers to follow any interesting smell would most likely have you grass skiing before ending up buried in a hedge.
A grin splits Christian’s face, and he stoops down to the child. Raising his glasses, revealing twinkling blue eyes, he offers a wink. “No. But it’s a pretty good disguise, isn’t it?”
She gives him a solemn nod, satisfied. “Can I pat your dog?”
“Sure.” She reaches for Tully’s head, undeterred by the dog’s wide toothy grin.
A woman, bag of chestnuts in hand, comes to stand alongside the little girl, and carefully checks over this stranger talking to her mini-me. Christian smiles up at her and it’s then I see her mouth fall open.
“You’re…”
