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The only thing truly clear after he left? I loved him. I knew that now, and it scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t sure when my feelings had transitioned from infatuation to love—was it when he’d looked into my eyes at the airport and I could tell he didn’t want to go? Was it when he’d steadied my dad as he noticed him losing his balance one evening after dinner? Or was it that crazy night in the shed? Regardless, I loved Sigmund Benedictus more than I’d loved any man before. And I feared it was one-sided. I knew hecaredfor me—his actions showed that. But love? The soul-shattering kind he’d shared with Britney? I wanted him to love methatway. Although I wasn’t sure he’d ever be capable of it again, I could never accept anything less.
Dad was scheduled for lung surgery next week, and his recovery would determine whether I’d either be staying here in Rhode Island to deliver the baby or heading back to England. I needed to fly while the airline would still let me, since pregnant women weren’t advised to travel by air after thirty-six weeks. At thirty-one weeks now, I was cutting it close. But still I crossed my fingers, hoping to give birth in England. I missed Lavinia, and Westfordshire, in general. Missed London, too. My heart ached to be back there, even if just for a short time more. I knew Sig would fly here for the birth, but from the time I’d made the decision to move to the UK, I’d always envisioned it happening over there.
On this early-December day, Dad had a pre-op appointment in Boston, so we’d been gone most of the afternoon. It was dark out now, and when we pulled into our driveway, I couldn’t believe my eyes. For a moment I thought I’d pulled onto the wrong property, but it was definitely ours.
The entire house was lit up in Christmas lights.
How?Between my pregnancy and Dad’s condition, neither of us had found the energy to decorate this year. So we’d nixed the idea.
“Did you have someone do this?” my father asked, looking up in amazement. The entire surface area of the house seemed covered.
“I wish I could take credit, but I didn’t. I have no idea how this happened.” As I stared up at the lights, I started to cry—happy tears. It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how sad I’d been, how scared about the future. From the impending birth, to my dad’s health, to the status of my relationship with Sig, my life was filled with uncertainty. This, though, was a moment of joy. A moment to pause and appreciate all the good I had in my life. How lucky I was to be alive.
Then it hit me. Sig was the only person I’d spoken to about not being able to put up Christmas lights this year. This had to be his doing. But how the hell did he pull it off?
Once we got inside, I called him. He’d barely had a chance to answer when I said, “You did this? The lights?”
“Oh good. They didn’t fuck it up.”
“Whoevertheyare, they did an amazing job.”
“Are they bright and obnoxious? That’s what I asked for.”
“They rival Clark Griswold’s fromChristmas Vacation. Pretty sure we might make the news tonight and cause a traffic jam from onlookers.”
“Good. Good.”
I sniffled. “How the hell did you manage this?”
“I hired a team to do it while I knew you were in Boston with your father. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you brought me to tears. I can’t tell you how much this means to me—to us.”
“I didn’t mean to make you cry, beautiful. Besides, it’s nothing compared to what you’re doing for me, for Kate and Phil. I could never repay you. Just wanted to bring a little happiness to your day, because I know it’s not going to be an easy week for you. You and your dad deserve lights this year more than any.”
I wiped my eyes. “You know, Benedictus, you sure are ruining your prior reputation as a jerk.”
***
Sig’s holiday surprises didn’t end with the Christmas lights. The following day, he sent me a text in the middle of the afternoon.
Sig: I want to take you on a lunch date. Virtually. Can you swing it?
Abby: Dad’s sleeping, and I was just going to make myself something, but I would much rather go on a date with you.
Sig: Eat something first. I’ll call you in twenty minutes.
When it came time for our call, he appeared on the screen wearing a gray wool coat and scarf—so handsome. It was nighttime there, but I recognized the store in the background. “Are you at Marks and Spencer?”
“I might be.” He winked. “It’s the one not far from my flat.”
Sig knew I loved shopping at the food hall there, might even call it an obsession. There was another one within walking distance of the office in London, and I’d often gone there to stock up on prepared foods before returning to Westfordshire in the evenings. I’d even bring a cooler with me, prompting much ridicule from Sig. Lavinia and I loved their pigs-in-a-blanket appetizer. They had so many tasty snacks that I couldn’t get here in the US.
“They’ve put out all the Christmas items,” he said. “I’m feeling bad that you have to miss their holiday displays. So I thought I’d bring everything to you tonight.”
That made my heart squeeze. The idea of missing Christmas in London was hard to accept. I longed to experience at least one season there with him. “You’re gonna kill me with your Christmas kindness, Sig. I was a blubbering mess last night with the lights, and now this?”
“I figured you could pick out whatever you want, and I’ll ship it to you in a care package. Unfortunately, it has to be nonperishable, so the pigs in a blanket won’t make it. But they have an obscene amount of chocolate.”
