Page 123 of Touch of Class

“Merry Christmas,” they all exclaimed in unison as she made the rounds hugging Daphne first, then Hugh, and finally Gillian, who beamed, still seemingly inordinately pleased by every hug Izzy gave her. She shouldn’t be surprised by them at this point, though. Despite Daphne’s early attempts not to let Izzy get too attached too fast, her vast celebrations when she found out the two of them were dating made it abundantly clear that ship had sailed. Hugh joked that Izzy was the first in the family to fall for Gillian, while he came in a close second, with Daphne, as usual, being late to the party.

Still, as she watched Gillian load a plate with pastries and joke with Hugh about Christmas carbs being a class unto themselves, she realized she may’ve been the last to fall for her charms, but she’d certainly fallen the hardest.

And who could blame her? Gillian had been everything she always was, except now as a partner instead of a rival. She’d proven herself almost relentlessly thoughtful, attentive, insightful, passionate, and so very skilled at all the things she did. And she did so many things. She’d cooked sauce for the family, helped trim the tree, lain awake in bed snuggling and listening to Daphne talk about her dreams into the wee hours of the morning. Then she’d made love to her until the earliest rays of winter sunlight peeked through the blinds.

Every time Daphne glanced over to see Gillian watching her, she almost had to pinch herself, not because Gillian was too perfect to be believed, but because it still didn’t feel real that someone who actually was so perfect could look at her with love in her eyes. She was doing it now, as they took up their spots next to each other on the couch.

“I like the shape of this one, from Mom and Papa.” Izzy pulled a long cylindrical present from under the tree. “Is it what I asked for?”

Hugh shrugged. “If what you asked for was a curtain rod.”

“No, it’s a fishing pole,” Daphne jumped in.

“I thought you’d merely wrapped up a roll of wrapping paper so she’d be ready for next year,” Gillian piled on.

Izzy rolled her eyes and ripped open the paper before letting out an earsplitting shriek. “It’s a fencing foil!”

Hugh puffed out his chest with pride. “What’d I tell you? You were born for swordplay.”

“Thank you.” She ran around the room and hugged them each again before waving it around to hear the “whoosh” cutting through the air. Daphne had to admit, she did cut quite a fine figure, and while she knew nothing about fencing equipment, she felt certain this was the correct type and fit and whatever else it needed to be, because Gillian had helped pick it out. And in a shock to no one, in addition to all her other wide and varied talents on display as of late, she was also transforming herself into an expert on the sport of fencing in rapid form. Seriously, the woman rarely slept, though when she did, she always seemed to do so best within the circle of Daphne’s arms.

She smiled at the thought. Maybe that was one of the nicest realizations of all, that while Gillian was good at doing virtually everything all at once, Daphne had a special talent for helping her do nothing at all. It was a unique blend giving her peace and pride in equal measure.

“Can I open this one next?” Izzy pointed to another box, but Daphne shook her head.

“Let’s take turns. I want Gillian to open one from me next.”

Izzy nodded conspiratorially and snagged a box from under the tree before passing it over.

Gillian accepted it with a totally warranted look of suspicion, but still untied the ribbon and opened it to reveal a truly heinous sweater. She arched an eyebrow as she lifted it to inspect the monstrosity. Brown and blue, it featured polar bears and reindeer wearing red Santa hats while penguins strung brightly colored Christmas lights all around them.

Daphne laughed. “You didn’t have anything to wear to the ugly sweater party at the office, so I got you one.”

“I wore a sweater,” Gillian protested.

“Yeah, but it looked great on you. If you’re really edging away from being the full-time boss, you need to be able to dress like the rest of us riffraff. Try that one on.”

Gillian shrugged and, once again proving herself to be a good sport, shed her sweatshirt while Izzy giggled on the floor. However, as soon as she pulled it on over her T-shirt, everyone stopped snickering.

She did a slow turn while everyone stared in silence.

“I’m gobsmacked,” Hugh finally said.

Daphne merely shook her head.

“What?” Gillian asked. “It fits.”

“Perfectly.” Izzy sounded disappointed.

And that was it.

Perfection.

Every time.

Daphne fell over on the couch and nearly howled at the absurdity of it all.

“What?” Gillian asked again.