12
CHRISTMAS
SKY
I lovea white Christmas but haven’t experienced one for years. Last Christmas on Dylan’s island meant very un-festive sun, and snow isn’t likely in the part of Spain we’re visiting this year. Dylan wanted to spend Christmas on his island again, and I’m determined to take the Scrooge out of him. I know he hates Christmas, but we need to make memories of our own now. Besides, Dylan can’t avoid meeting my family any longer.
This year, we keep the promise we made to Mum and travel to her and my stepdad’s house on the outskirts of Barcelona. I’d prefer to spend Christmas all together as a family at Dylan’s, but Mum insisted we stay at their place instead.
We arrived this morning, and after an awkward hour together, my Mum and stepbrother head out for last minute Christmas Eve shopping. I retreat to the lounge and sit close to the open fire in the large room, hoping to warm up. I’m not used to the cold after our tropical holidays and snuggle beneath a blue blanket. Dylan decides to take a walk while I bury myself in a book and enjoy the peace.
A tall Christmas tree fills half the room, covered in bright blue and red baubles and tinsel. The pine scent mingles with the burning logs and pulls me back to my traditional Christmases. It’s a long time since we spent the holidays together as a family, especially since my brother moved to the States. My whole family have become distant recently, and I’m determined to fix this.
“It’s bloody cold out there.” Dylan’s voice breaks me away from my daydreams. His tall frame takes up most of the low doorway leading to the paved hall, and he stands with his hands in the pockets of a hoodie he’s wearing over a thick black sweater. Dylan’s face is partially hidden beneath the hood. With his body and tattoos covered up like this, the extraordinary Dylan could be an ordinary guy. But take a couple of layers of clothes off this man, and he most definitely isn’t.
Dylan pushes his hood down. The tension he’s held since we arrived at the house hasn’t left after his walk, his blue eyes still wary and demeanour stiff. Dylan told me he’d rather face a crowd of thousands than meet my family, but he’s winning over Mum. After years of practice flashing that smile and turning on the charms, I don’t think Dylan even realises he’s doing it anymore.
“Come here,” I say and tip my head for a kiss as he approaches. Dylan places cold hands on my cheeks as he does. I wince and grab them. “Dylan!”
Chuckling, Dylan hops onto the couch next to me. “Told you I was cold. Warm me up.”
I wriggle away from him as he dives his large hands toward the edge of my sweater. “Keep your hands off me.” A cool finger brushes my skin, and I inhale sharply at the temperature. “Stop it!”
Dylan leans in for a soft kiss to warm my blood against the cool of his touch, and I curl my fingers around where his rest on my waist. “Keep your hands to yourself!”
He slides an arm around my back instead and pulls me against him, lips moving along my neck. I shiver as he closes his teeth over my earlobe. “I’m cold,” he whispers.
My skin heats beneath his hands because I know exactly where this is leading, and I pull the blanket around us both. “There you go, share the blanket.”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“Dylan. You need to behave yourself. Mum and Ed will be back from the shops soon.” My attempt at a stern voice is met with amusement.
Dylan lets me go and pulls at the blanket instead. “Good point. Your mum scares me.”
“She likes you.”
“Really? I’d never guess. She was very abrupt earlier.”
“She’s protective; you’re a big, bad rock star who’s going to break her daughter’s heart.”
Dylan grabs my hand and points at the gold band. “That’s unfair. I married you.”
“Mum will think the same as the rest of the world once our secret is out.” I catch his confused frown. “Everybody will say this marriage won’t work.”
His brow dips further. “I’m only getting married once. There’s no bloody point bothering unless I know the girl is the one I’ll spend my whole life with.”
“Well, I’m glad you ‘bothered.’” I stroke his cheek. “Mum will love you by the end of the holiday. I guarantee it.”
“Hmm.” The blanket drops, and Dylan pulls it back around us. “I’d rather Christmas was just me and you.”
“My family weren’t invited to our wedding. This was the compromise, remember?”
Dylan eyes the tree and mutters something about Christmas under his breath. He hasn’t mentioned his dislike of Christmas this year, but I’m aware this is hard for him. Dylan avoided celebrating for years, connecting the event with his mother’s death, but he needs to change.
“You’re part of my family now, Dylan, and this traditionally involves spending awkward Christmases with the in-laws.” I poke him. “Part of the deal, remember? If I’m swallowed by your life, you have to spend time in mine.”
“Yeah. Okay.” But he’s not convincing.