‘I could do with a shave, but my razor broke.’
‘Funny you should say that, but I have a present over there for you that might help.’ I point to the corner of the room where I pretty much dumped everything yesterday.
‘You bought me a present?’ Nate’s head whips round to where I’m pointing. ‘I told you I didn’t need anything.’
‘Well, apparently, you do. And it’s kind of a present for my jaw and inner thighs too.’ A smug smirk creeps across my face. ‘You’re so hard to buy for. What do you buy the man who can buy himself anything?’ I shrug.
Nate finally releases me and pulls back the bed covers. I admire his iron-sculpted ass cheeks as he struts across the room and picks up the box before shaking it. His fingers are already tearing through the paper to reveal the best electric razor Brown Thomas stocked.
‘It’s perfect,’ he announces with a grin. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ My palm rubs over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, a decadent reminder of where my boyfriend’s head frequents daily at the moment.
‘I got you a present too.’ Nate grabs a thick white A4 envelope from his suitcase. A single scarlet bow seals it closed.
‘You’ve given me far too much already.’ My gaze drifts to the Dior Advent calendar, which I propped up on the bedside locker last night. There’s one door left to open.
‘Baby, I haven’t even started yet.’ He crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’ He presses the envelope into my hands.
My fingers skim over it with curiosity.
‘Open it,’ he insists.
So I do.
A glossy brochure of a huge airy building drops onto the bed sheets in front of me. I pick it up with bated breath. ‘A building?’
‘Not just any building. That, sweetheart, is your new art gallery.’ His smooth voice harbours the smug tone of a man who knows he nailed his girlfriend’s Christmas gift.
‘Nate, no way. It’s too much.’ I press the brochure back towards his muscular chest.
‘Well, there wasn’t a lot of point in me having a studio extension put on toourhouse if you don’t have a place to showcase your work.’ His thumb trails across my cheekbone, wiping away the happy tears that streak my face.
‘Thank you, Nate. Thank you.’ I bury my head in his neck and thank my lucky stars for this man and for the way he loves me.
The last door on my Dior Advent calendar houses Rouge Addict lipstick. I apply it over my lips, grinning at the woman who stares back at me in the bathroom mirror.
‘Come on,’ Nate appears behind me wearing a black shirt that matches his inky hair, ‘before I’m tempted to smear that lipstick all over your face.’
‘Merry Christmas, lovers.’ Penny Jackson is already waiting in front of the twinkling Christmas tree at the bottom of the castle’s cherry wood staircase. She pulls Nate and me into a hug that squeezes the air out of my lungs.
From my periphery, I catch sight of my own mother and father wincing from beside the tree. Was it the term “lovers?” Or the PDA? Either way, old habits die hard.
‘Ah, I see you’ve finally joined us,’ Frank says in a teasing tone. ‘I’ve always said sex is the best gift God gave any of us. And from the look of it, you two have already exchanged ‘gifts’ this morning.’
Ground, swallow me whole! I thought the viral video was bad, but Frank asking about my sex life in front of my parents takes the biscuit.
A fleeting glance shows my mother actually clutching her pearls. Running her fingers over them like she’s saying the rosary.
She can keep her Hail Mary’s. I vowed not to look for her approval. I am in a committed relationship. I’m a young, healthy woman, with a healthy appetite for sex.
I meet her eye and raise a hand in greeting before winking at my future-father-in-law. I repeat his own mantra straight back at him. ‘It’s what we were put on this planet to do.’
‘Atta girl.’ He slaps my back and lets out a hearty belly laugh.
My mother’s lips twitch like she’s battling a smirk, and she reluctantly drops those pearls.
‘Happy Christmas, darling.’ She closes the distance between us and air kisses both my cheeks.
