It hadn’t occurred to her that visiting her family might feel like a duty for him. Something to be endured, not enjoyed.
“Christmas is really not special to you, is it?”
He glanced at her and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Christmas is not really different from any other time of year, except flights and hotels are eye-wateringly expensive and the office closes whether you want it to or not. My family doesn’t go for the whole turkey-and-tree experience, you know that.”
She knew they had different family experiences, but she hadn’t thought it would matter. Now she was wondering if maybe it did. Only now was she really understanding that when you married someone your experiences and wishes had to somehow blend with theirs.
She loved Christmas, and when she’d married Declan she’dassumed their Christmas would look the way it always had when she was single. A big, noisy family affair. If one day they had children, she’d want to give them the same warm, chaotic festive season that she’d always enjoyed. She’d want to take them to the forest to choose a tree, just as she had with her parents. She’d want to buy stockings that would be hung by the fireplace year after year until they were threadbare. She wanted to reproduce the Christmas she’d had every year of her life. What if he didn’t want that? What if, in the future, he wanted them all to go and lie on a beach? What if he saidI don’t want to spend Christmas with your family?
And she realised in that moment that they had much bigger problems than whether his friends liked her.
She adored her family but she was aware that when they were together they were noisy and demonstrative. Personal space wasn’t really a thing in her house. What if he found them overwhelming? What if, instead of making him want to repeat the experience, he decided he never wanted to do it again?
She couldn’t imagine not getting together with her family at Christmas.
“Rosie?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking.” And this time she wasn’t going to tell him what she was thinking.
They’d go, and she’d make sure he had the very best time. Yes, that was a good plan.
How could he not love Christmas at her home? The Mill House was gorgeous at Christmas and would be even more magical now that they’d had snow. The thought of going home lifted her spirits. It was just what she needed. The moment she turned into the long driveway that led to her family home, she felt a sense of security. It was nothing to do with the building, of course, but the people. Her wonderful parents. Her grandparents. Her siblings. Whenever anything had gone wrong in her life they’d been there ready to cushion the blow.
“Do you want me to ask my parents if we can have separate bedrooms? Then you can have your own space if you need it?”
“What? No!” He sounded appalled by the suggestion. “That would raise questions, and that’s the last thing we need.”
Questions. It would raise questions. NotI want to be with you, Rosie. I can’t sleep without you there.
“I just—”
“Enough! We’re doing this. We’ve bought the presents. We’ve packed the car. We already had this discussion and agreed to it. It’s the right thing to do. Don’t worry, I’ll survive.”
I’ll survive.
“Okay then. Wake up those reindeer.” She made a supreme effort to feel festive. “Let’s go, or we won’t get there before Santa.”
Declan gave her a look that clearly saidI don’t understand you. Then he started the engine, checked his mirrors and pulled out into the snow-covered road.
Rosie slumped in her seat. She’d been looking forward to Christmas for ages, and now it promised to be a total disaster.
Merry Christmas, Rosie.
Chapter3
Jennifer
Christmas.
A time for peace, goodwill and monumental pressure, Jennifer thought as she wrestled the tree through the front door of her parents’ ground-floor apartment and found a place for it by the window.
“Hope you approve of this one. It’s pot grown, so hopefully it won’t drop needles all over your floor. And I bought you some of my cinnamon cookies because I thought we’d need sustenance after decorating it.”
Her parents had moved into the light-filled apartment a few years earlier and it offered far more practical living than the old rambling vicarage that had cost a fortune to heat. She’d grown up thinking it was normal to always wear two sweaters.
“I should be telling you that you didn’t have to do that, but I’m so happy you did. Both the tree and the cookies.” Her mother fussed over the tree, moving a side table and then rotating the pot, first in one direction and then the other, looking for the best angle. “It’s a beauty, Jenny. We should be too old to be bothering with decorations at home, shouldn’t we?Particularly as we’ll be spending Christmas with you at the Mill. It’s an extravagance.”
“Nothing wrong with a bit of extravagance at Christmas. You’ve always loved having a tree, and I don’t see why age has anything to do with it. You can put it out in the garden after Christmas and then bring it in again next year. It will last forever.”
