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But just for now, I pull my boys to me and cuddle them tight, pressing gentle kisses on their cheeks and the tops of their heads.
“Merry Christmas, babies.”
“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” they mumble back.
I have no idea how many Christmases I’ll be fortunate enough to have in my lifetime. However, I know without a doubt that none of them will ever be as precious to me as this one has been.
CHAPTER23
Jalen
The next fewdays go past in a bit of a happy blur. On Boxing Day, we wake up to a winter wonderland because the snow not only continued to fall but it also settled over several inches. We make the most of it in our yard as well as on the beach, creating snow people and having snowball fights. It’s quite an incredible sight to behold, especially having spent almost my entire life in sunny California and then moving to Sydney just as it was getting hot for summer.
We see Andreas’s family almost every day, and they’re very nice to us, especially Colby, which is the way it should be. This girl can always take care of herself, but Colby is always going to need a lot more assurances that he’s welcome and wanted.
Andreas’s family do a great job of that.
A couple of days before our flight back to Sydney, we head back to London so we can spend some time sightseeing in the city. I’m sad to say goodbye to our gorgeous holiday rental, Brighton Beach, Andreas’s family, and especially River and Donna. But Andreas has booked us a suite in a fancy hotel, and I feel like an actual queen, or at the very least, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
We cram in a lot of tourist stuff, including going up The Shard, the tallest building in all of the UK, watching the Changing of the Guard outside Buckingham Palace, and taking a horse-drawn carriage ride around Richmond Park, drinking mulled wine and eating mince pies. I feel like I’m in Bridgerton.
We also shop till we drop, with Andreas buying us everything we want, from tacky trinkets to designer clothes. I fret about fitting it all in our luggage until Andreas simply buys us another suitcase in order to get it all home.
Our last day is spent in Greenwich as there’s loads to do there. They have a market that’s half delicious, international food and half handmade crafty goods. There’s also the impressive naval college that’s been used as a location in several movies and TV shows, and the observatory that sits on top of a hill with a stunning view of the city. I find out that’s where time ‘starts’ and that’s why it’s called Greenwich Mean Time and not British Standard Time or whatever.
I’m really enjoying myself, so much. But there’s something about standing on that hill, looking down over the expansive park that leads to the college with the rest of London as its backdrop, and I feel…small. Helpless.
Because time is the one thing I’m running out of.
And I don’t just mean here in England. All vacations come to an end, and even though it’s normal to get a bit sad, it’s natural. Usually, I look forward to going home again and getting back to my regular everyday life.
I should be even more excited because my everyday life now includes not one buttwoboyfriends, one of whom is the person I’ve been in love with for what feels like forever.
But the new year is approaching and, with it, my doom.
Why—why—did I wait so long to move out to Australia? I know I had to save up the money and work out the logistics. And to be fair, I had to give Colby a long time to work up to the idea so he wouldn’t freak out because me moving continents for him was pretty overwhelming for someone who used to think he was unlovable.
Besides, me moving earlier wouldn’t mean we’d have met Andreas any sooner. In fact, your girl has seen Sliding Doors and knows that any one little change could have meant that Colby and I never ended up bidding on the Jurassic Galaxy set at the same time, and therefore we never would have met Andreas at all.
That makes me shiver. Hell to the no, mama!
However, knowing all this doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to turn thirty next year, and that means I can’t apply for another working holiday visa.
Come July, I’ll have to move back to California.
I try my best not to think about it as we walk back down the hill, watching all the dogs running around who are making the most of what’s left of the snow. But as our flight from Heathrow looms tomorrow, I can’t seem to stop myself.
I’m not exaggerating when I say I don’t want to live without Colby and Andreas. The thought of being on the other side of the world to them is inconceivable. My departure date is six months away, but having any date at all makes me feel like I’m living on borrowed time.
How can I enjoy this incredible, sensational, hot AF new relationship when I know it can never last? I don’t want it to end. But I don’t know how I can stay in Australia, though.
Perhaps I’ll have to step aside and let Colby and Andreas be together, after all. That’s a small comfort, I guess. I suppose it is a kind of silver lining that they’ll have each other.
Before this trip and us getting together, me leaving felt like a distant problem that I wouldn’t have to think about for ages. But as we wind down our last evening in London with a delicious dinner at the fancy hotel and a night of passionate love-making, I find the issue has become my constant companion. I feel dimmer. Quieter.
The tighter I try to hold on to these amazing men, the faster I feel them slipping away.
I spend the tube journey to the airport realizing I have to make a decision. I don’t want to, but this is what Colby does to me. I knew I wasn’t responsible enough to ever be his Daddy. However, he does force me to do what’s best for him. I can be responsible if I have to.
