‘Happy Christmas, Mam. I’m so glad you’re here.’ I do something I haven’t done in years and pull my mother into a distinctly unsophisticated hug. She tenses for a split second before her shoulders slacken and she pats my back.
It’s progress. A little, at least.
Nate’s sisters, Ava, Natalie, Stella and Faith, arrive through the castle’s wrought iron front doors with their respective husbands and children. Sasha, the hostess with the mostest, welcomes them with a tray of bubbling champagne.
Jayden is handing out pristinely wrapped presents from beneath the tree while his wife, Chloe, is chasing around after their daughter, who’s decided to streak around the Christmas tree wearing nothing but the flashing tiara Santa brought her.
I guess it doesn’t matter what walk of life you come from, kids will be kids.
Discarded wrapping paper litters the mosaic floor. The scent of nutmeg and cinnamon assaults my senses. Laughter fills the air, floating to the top of the atrium. Love fills my lungs. I stare at the tree, not even really seeing it. What I’m seeing is far more alluring. It’s the future. And it’s so bright it brings tears to my eyes.
I have a man who loves me. I’m surrounded by two families who love me. And I get to do what I love for the rest of my days.
‘Are you okay?’ Nate’s comforting arms snake around my waist from behind.
‘I’m more than okay.’ I tip my head backwards and meet his eye. ‘This is the best Christmas ever.’
Nate wiggles his thick, dark eyebrows. ‘It’s the best Christmas so far,’ he corrects me. ‘I’ve got a feeling next Christmas could be even better.’ He slides a hand over my stomach and takes my left hand in his other. His silent hopes for the future match mine. And that’s the best gift ever.
EPILOGUE
HOLLY
9 Months Later…
‘You’d have done anything to get out of the Hallmark red carpet premiere,’ Nate teases, taking my hand as another excruciating contraction hits. ‘All that champagne and flashing cameras. I thought you’d have gotten over your aversion to the paparazzi by now. Especially when they’re your biggest champions.’
It’s true. The American public has been nothing but entirely supportive of our relationship. And of the opening of my swish new gallery on the boulevard. I sold every painting on my opening night and have been taking private commissions ever since. The press can’t get enough of us after Nate’s Christmas karaoke performance got so many hits it crashed the TikTok app.
Dreams really do come true.
But I’ve got a feeling I’m in for a nightmare tonight.
The birthing pool Nate had installed in the Beverly Hills mansion has done fuck all to ease the agony of birthing his child.
‘Yeah, like I planned to keep your baby in my womb ten days past her due date,’ I puff, tensing as another tight wave grips my womb.
‘Hisdue date,’ my fiancé corrects me. Nate barely waited three months to get a ring on my finger. We booked the wedding before we realised I’d fallen pregnant at Huxley Castle, which is why it’s only ten weeks from now, the second Saturday in December.
What were we thinking?
‘You’re a brave man,’ my future mother-in-law interjects from the side of the room where she’s scrubbing her hands in the marble sink. Obviously, Penny-zero-boundaries-Jackson would insist on being the midwife to deliver her grandchild.
Thankfully, Frank is waiting downstairs, entertaining my parents, who flew over five days ago thinking they’d have a new grandchild already.
This baby is either shy like me, or stubborn like her father.
Yes,her.
No matter what Nate thinks, I know it’s a girl. Both of us opted for a surprise, but only one of us is going to get it. Tootsie is getting a little sister.
Another contraction rips through me. ‘They’re getting closer.’ I reach out for Nate’s hand and squeeze with all my might.
Penny strides to the edge of the birthing pool, as cool as a cucumber. She drops to her knees beside me. ‘It won’t be long now, pet. You’re doing great.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want a natural birth.’
Savannah warned me this would happen. She begged me to go to hospital and get an epidural, but I was harbouring a ridiculous romantic notion about a home birth. It’s the fairy in me.
