Page 38 of A Recipe for Romance in Brambleton

Noah laughed and glanced at Marc. ‘Depends on your dad. Should we make them wait until after lunch, Marc?’

The combined chorus of ‘No!’ was as cute as it was loud. Marc, though, decided to draw it out a little longer before he told them his decision. Parenting was, after all, a negotiation.

‘Well, I don’t know, boys. The table has to be laid, and there’s some wrapping paper from your other presents that needs putting in a bin bag. Perhaps you could do that before we open more presents?’

Luca looked at his brother, who gave him a brief nod, before they both, somewhat reluctantly, agreed. As they rushed out of the living room to grab the cutlery for the dining table, Marc couldn’t help smiling.

‘Maybe you have trained them well, after all,’ Joel observed. ‘I don’t remember ever setting the table when we were kids unless Mum threatened us with no telly!’

‘Tessa got them tidying their things away even when they were toddlers,’ Marc replied. ‘They went to the kind of nursery where they were expected to clear up after themselves – the French were big on that – and she embraced that philosophy. I thought it would be a good thing to keep it going.’

‘She had her head screwed on, your late wife. To Tessa.’ Joel raised his glass in a toast.

Marc was touched by the gesture. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ He took a sip of his own champagne.

The brief, contemplative silence was broken by the twins bounding back into the living room.

‘We’ve done it, Dad!’ Liam announced. ‘Can we open our presents now?’

‘What about the wrapping paper?’ Marc tried and failed to assume a stern expression. The eager look on the boys’ faces made a smile twitch at his mouth.

‘Oh, I’m sure there’s going to be plenty more of that!’ Bella interjected. ‘I mean, what kind of aunt and uncle would we be if we hadn’t used twelve whole metres of wrapping paper for your presents?’

Liam and Luca giggled. Bella always managed to make them laugh.

‘What do you say, Dad? If I promise to help them clear up, do you think they can open their presents before lunch?’

Amid the cheers of ‘go on, Dad’ and ‘please!’ Marc knew he was outnumbered.

‘Oh, all right, then,’ he conceded. ‘But I’m holding you to that, Bella.’

Bella and Noah started to hand out the presents they’d brought, and as the boys began to unwrap theirs, Marc thought that, even if he had to be the referee between his brothers, it had definitely been the right decision to invite them.

33

Lauren had awoken on Christmas morning feeling far happier about being alone than she ever thought she would be. Although the house was quiet without Myriam, it gave Lauren plenty of time to mull over the kiss that she and Marc had shared last night. It was the last thing that she had been expecting, but she would have been lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been hoping for it. They’d got on so well in the pub, and even though she’d nearly knocked him out on the doorstep, that kiss on the sofa had more than made up for it.

She knew she shouldn’t get too far ahead of herself; Marc wasn’t exactly a simple proposition. Not only was he widowed, but he also had Liam and Luca to consider. Going slowly had to be the name of the game. And she was fine with that. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have her own complications, although Myriam would have been horrified to be labelled as such. Whatever the next few weeks brought, she knew she had to take it one step at a time.

All the same, she could feel the silly grin that was plastered all over her face as she remembered that kiss again and again. Marc had been so tentative, his lips so soft, and the way he’d pulled back from her afterwards, letting her set the pace, was exactly what she’d needed. When he’d jokingly asked her permission before leaning in, it had been so reassuring and left her completely clear about what he’d wanted to do. The fact that she’d wanted it too made it all the better when it had happened. Their lines of communication were becoming easier to navigate every time they talked, and Lauren was glad.

In a way, she was also glad it was Christmas Day; Marc would be spending it with his family, and she had lots of time to relax, watch what she wanted on the television and think about what might happen next. She didn’t have to worry about whether he would call her, at least for today.

A chorus from her mobile broke into this pleasurable reverie. It was Myriam.

‘Hello, darling,’ her mother trilled as she answered. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘And to you,’ Lauren replied. ‘How’s it all going?’

They exchanged pleasantries for a little while: Myriam, as Lauren had predicted, had fallen in love with the Norwegian landscape, and had adored teaching the guests on the riverboat. She’d even managed to sell a few of the paintings she’d produced and had a couple of potential commissions ready for when she got back to her studio in a week’s time.

‘And how’s Gary?’ Lauren asked, as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

‘Wonderful.’ Myriam’s voice softened with affection. ‘Honestly, darling, I don’t know why we waited all those years.’

Lauren’s heart gave a little flip. ‘You sound like you’re in love, Mum!’

Myriam’s pause on the line spoke volumes. She eventually gave a happy-sounding sigh. ‘You know what, darling, I think you might be right.’