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And now she’s telling me about her job. She works at a magazine which is aimed at rich execs who like to flick through it while waiting for their next private jet to God knows where. Her last article was about a twenty-thousand dollar bidet. She grins as she tells me that it not only cleans everything but also plays Handel’s ‘Water Music’ as it does.

“How about your job?” she asks. “Did you always dream of playing piano?”

“I did,” I say. It’s not exactly a lie, I did used to want to play professionally. Not that I ever stood a chance. “I learned young. Found it helped…” I trail off.

“Helped what?” she asks softly.

I swallow a mouthful of wine. “Helped me get through childhood, I guess.”

“I get that. I guess I did the same with reading. It helps getting out of your own head sometimes.”

“Did you have a happy childhood?” I ask her, intrigued.

“I guess it wasn’t terrible.” She shrugs. “My mom did her best, I know that for sure. I never knew my dad, and my mom had to work more hours than anybody should. So I was alone a lot.”

“What happened to your father?” I ask.

“His wife.” She wrinkles her nose. “He said he was single when they began dating. And then he admitted he was married when my mom told him she was pregnant. Ran off and we never saw him again.” She lifts her wine glass to her lips. I ordered the best bottle I could find. But it’s not exactly Chateau Lafitte. “So it was just the two of us growing up.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur.

“Don’t be. She was a great mom. I just missed her when she had to work.” She gives me that soft smile again. And it makes my chest tighten. “How about you? Did you grow up in London?”

“Norfolk,” I say. “Though we spent a lot of time in London too.”

“England is so small, right? You can be in ten cities in about ten minutes.”

“A lot smaller than America,” I agree. “Though we tend to take our time going places. And the traffic is always terrible.”

“And your parents,” she says. “What do they do?”

For a second I think about being honest. But I’m enjoying this way too much to tell her I grew up on a vast estate.

“My father works in hospitality. My mother didn’t work.” There, that’s more than enough.

“So she took care of you?” Georgia asks. “A stay-at-home mom?”

“Kind of.”

“Ladies and gentlemen. The show is over but the night has only just begun,” Scrooge booms out. He’s still in his nightgown, a white and blue striped cotton dress that skims the floor. His sleep cap is jauntily pinned onto his wig. “Let’s have music and wine and dance. Especially dance.” He does a pirouette and claps his hands together, looking like the least grumpy Scrooge I’ve ever seen. He’s also likely younger than me and I have a feeling just graduated from drama school.

The music gets turned up. So loud that I can barely hear myself think.

“Want to get out of here?” I shout at Georgia as the people around us start to jump up and clap to the music. Because, quite honestly, I’m absolutely Christmas Carolled out.

“It looks like you want to,” she shouts back.

“I really do,” I tell her honestly. Because yes, it’s been fun watching her watch the show, but this place is not how I’d like to spend my evening.

Her eyes sparkle. “Then let’s make like a tree and leave.”

I cough out a laugh. Damn, I like this woman. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

6

GEORGIA

“Is London always this busy at night?” I ask Theo as we push our way through the crowds onto the sidewalk. Somebody jostles me, and he pulls me close, creating a barrier between me and the onslaught of people.