He nodded. “British as they come. What about you?”
Eliza shrugged. “I’ve never really asked. My mum’s from London and my dad is from Oxford. They met at university. Have been inseparable ever since.”
Lachlan seemed to consider this for a moment, lip twitching upwards slightly. “Figured you’d be from the North Pole yourself, with your baking skills and all.”
She laughed. A real, unexpected one.
Magical gingerbread house, indeed.
“I have my nan to thank for that. My family would come here every Christmas for as long as I can remember. She was the one who taught me how to bake.”
“All hail Nan Snow.” Lachlan playfully raised and lowered his hands in a gesture of praise. “Why didn’t they book it this year?” he asked.
“We stopped coming since she died,” she swallowed, her throat seizing up all of a sudden. The tears always felt just behind her eyes and ready to spill anytime she had to vocalize the truth—the reality of what had happened this past spring that she was too afraid to think about.
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that.” Then, he quirked a brow, a silent question. “But you’re still here.”
She exhaled sharply, still not willing to meet his eyes. “Needed some space to clear my head. Not just because of her death.” She diverted the conversation away from her nan, being more willing to discuss her recent heartbreak than her. Even though she was torn over the loss of the bakery and breakup, she knew she’d eventually recover. The loss of Nan, however, she was certain she’d never fully recover.
“It was because of a breakup,” she continued, saving herself the humiliation of his asking.
But it was much more than that. It was a broken-off engagement. A lost business. Six years down the drain because of a reconnection with an old “mate.”
Silence stretched between them, like he was waiting for her to explain more, but that was all she was willing to give. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask whyhewas here. She was just eagerto shovel this snow, get him settled in another place, and drown herself in biscuits and tears. Alone.
“My sister said I work too much this time of year,” he said finally. “So she booked me a getaway to spend through the week to hopefully find some Christmas spirit.” He forced out an exaggerated breath. “Whatever that means.”
“It means you’re a Scrooge,” she blurted.
Lachlan looked offended. “Would a Scrooge wear Christmas socks?”
“If he was trying to fool others,” she shot back.
“Oh, so what, I’m a phony Christmas boy who wears cheesy socks for no reason?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s exactly it. You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
They stared down at each other, eyes playful, and both nearly breaking into a smile. And the tension between them thawed just a little. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood, flexing his bare chest. Eliza made herself busy by inspecting the Advent calendar on the wall.
Would you look at that? Five more days until Christmas.
It’d be her first one spent without her nan. Without any family, including Davis and his less-than-charming mother. She couldn’t say she was upset with missing the Hall family Christmas dinner, but she was struck with a small pinch of guilt when she thought about how she wouldn’t be at her own family gathering this year either.
The pain was too much. She didn’t feel like spending it anywhere else than where it was supposed to be: here, in this very cottage.
On his way out the door, flannel in hand, Lachlan stopped beside her. He stooped down to meet her eyes and ever-so-gently lifted her chin with his thumb. “You okay, Snow?”
His brown eyes were downturned, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. There was an expression that Eliza knew to be sincere. He actually seemed to care.
She only nodded, plastering on a smile.
Though he seemed unconvinced, Lachlan didn’t push. He only traveled down the stairs and out the back door to help the siblings. When she heard the door shut behind him, she took a moment, blinking back tears as she sat on the bed. Just a moment. She closed her eyes.
The house was quiet. Only the faint hum of the hearth. The groans of the gingerbread beams as they settled, the drip-drip-drip of the ice melting from the rooftop.
Solitude at last.
She was thankful to the magical Airbnb that it allowed her this time, if only just this once. It was like it knew she needed it, and put its antics on the back burner for the time being so she could finally sit with her thoughts.
