Page 71 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas

“No,” says Indi.

“An object, then?”

“Yes,” says Ewan.

“Large?”

Cait chuckles. “In reputation only.”

“Right. So, I’m small.” Gladys glances thoughtfully at the ceiling, thinking. “Am I valuable, then?”

Across the table, Genny and Maeve hoot with laughter.

“Bloody priceless,” Jake says.

Gladys looks genuinely confused now. “Am I food?”

“Oh my god.” Miles props an elbow on the table, cradling his forehead in his hand.

“Maybe if you’re Enoki,” Jake deadpans.

Suddenly, Gladys gasps. “Am I that ridiculous poo-shaped rubber from the Christmas crackers?”

Everyone roars with laughter. I’m caught up in the merriment too, but I have no idea what is happening here. Jake leans in close. His face is red. “Over here, rubbers are pencil erasers.”

“Ahh.”

“You wee menaces kept hiding it all over the house,” Helena says.

Jake uses his thumb to wipe away a tear, turning to me again. “Whoever found it would hide it in a new spot for someone else to find.”

“We never figured out who put it on top of the turkey at Christmas lunch,” says Genny.

Ewan clears his throat.

Genny playfully knocks him on the arm. “You didn’t.”

“God, I would’ve loved to have grown up in this family,” I say.

“Grown up?” Indi laughs. “This was just three years ago!”

* * *

It’s late when Jake and I walk back to the cottage. I’m wearing my new wellies, carrying a plate of mince pies. It begins to snow again, but this time, it’s a gentle flurry. The flakes are the size of postage stamps, slowly easing down from a black, crystalline-cold sky.

For the first time ever, it feels like a privilege to share my birthday with Christmas.

“Jake.” I stop on the stone path, and he turns to face me. We’re faintly spotlit by the lantern in front of the tiny greenhouse. Patiently, he watches. Waits. “I … I just—” There are so many things I want to say, but the weight of it all is bigger than words.

Thank you. I’m in love with you. Ask me to stay. Please.

“I—”

I can’t.

Jake closes the distance between us, cradling my face in his gloved hands. He bends low to touch the tip of his nose to mine. Then he whispers, simply, “I know.”

CHAPTER TWENTY