Page 9 of One Last Gift

It was like him to try to make light of it, but she remembered when he was a kid, how he’d be excited about his dad taking him away for the weekend, then how his dad would cancel last-minute, nine times out of ten. Sam would shrug it off, pretend it was no big deal, and he and Tom would inevitably spend the weekend on their bikes or playing on the computer or whatever, but Cassie saw, even then, how much it hurt. She could say what she liked about Claire not being the perfect aunt, but at least Claire had never let them down like that—she was reliable, had always been there, never made promises she wouldn’t keep. She couldn’t fully imagine what it must be like, to have someone let you down so consistently like that.

“It’s more my mum I’m worried about,” Sam said quietly. Cassie drew her hand back from his arm, and she clocked the way his gaze flicked to the place her fingers had been. “She was really looking forward to it. Not that she still has feelings for him.” He frowned, took a sip of mulled wine. “At least, I don’t think she does. It’s been, what, nearly twenty years? But it meant a lot to her, the idea that we’d all be there together—she’s tried so hard to maintain this friendship or whatever with him over the years, even though he doesn’t deserve it. And now she’ll be upset. She had this whole menu planned and…” He broke off, shook his head.

“You’ll be there,” Cassie said softly. She wasn’t sure it helped—it certainly wouldn’t take away the feeling of being let down—but it was true, and she knew his mum would be grateful for it. He met her gaze, held it for a beat.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Well. I guess that’s what happens when you make a commitment you can’t keep—someone else pays the price.” His tone was harsh in a way that made Cassie wince. “I suppose it’s what happens when you can’t let go of that commitment, either, like my mum,” Sam muttered.

Cassie bit her lip. It seemed a rather bleak outlook to her, though she didn’t know quite what to say in response—it wasn’t like she had a wealth of experience to draw on here. Linda had met the love of her life years ago, apparently, but they’d made a mutual decision to leave each other, because they wanted different things, and she was happy alone, or so she said. Claire didn’t exactly seem happy alone, but then she’d never gone on dates either as far as Cassie could remember. Hazel’s parents seemed happy, though. And her parents—by all accounts they’d been very much in love, and happy, and committed to one another.

She caught movement to her right and glanced toward the glass sliding doors that led to their little garden. The light from inside was reflected, so that it almost looked like there were two Christmas trees. It wasn’t that, though—she’d noticed something outside. A little flurry of white.

“What is it?” Sam asked, following her gaze to the doors.

“I think it’s snowing outside.” She leaned forward to check, then put her mug down, ran to the doors, and laughed delightedly. “It is!” She glanced back at him. “Sam, look, it’s snowing!”

Sam laughed, and the sound, the fact that the harshness was gone, made her feel even lighter. “You’ve been out in the snow all day.”

“Yes, but this is different, it’s actually falling from the sky.”

Sam came to join her by the glass doors. “That’s what snow tends to do,” he said dryly.

She laughed, hit him lightly on the arm. “Shut up.” She opened the door, glanced down at her bare feet, then decided she didn’t care. The mulled wine, the Christmas songs, it was making her want to be out in it, enjoy the moment.

“You’ll get cold,” Sam warned. She only waved a hand at him, stepped out, and twirled in a small circle. Yes, her feet were immediately freezing, but she didn’t care.

“Stick your tongue out,” Sam called from the doorway. She stopped, cocked her head at him. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when it snows? Taste the snowflake or whatever?”

She stuck her tongue out, but at him, feeling wonderfully immature. “Are you thinking of Skittles? And taste the rainbow?”

Sam laughed, then reached out, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her back toward him, toward the warmth of indoors. “Tom would kill me if I let you catch a cold or something.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s a myth that you catch a cold from getting cold.” It was impressive, really, how level her voice was, given the way her pulse was spiking just at the touch of him.

He nodded slowly. “OK then.” And he stepped out too, pulling her back into the snow and making her laugh. “You’ve got snowflakes in your hair,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a few aside and sending a tingle down the back of her neck. Then his eyebrows pulled together slightly, and he moved his fingers to trace the silver chain she was wearing around her neck—the one she’d been wearing all day.

“You’re wearing it,” he said, sounding dumbfounded.

“Of course,” she said. “I wear it all the time.” It didn’t feel wrong to admit it. She didn’t wear it every day or anything—she wasn’t that obsessive—but it had pride of place in her jewelry box and she wore it on special occasions, as well as every Christmas. Every time she put it on, she felt a little glow, like it was connecting her to Sam, to that moment outside the pub when she knew—she just knew—that it wasn’t just a crush, that her feelings weren’t one-sided.

His hand was still there, resting by her neck. His thumb moved, caressing her jaw, and her breath caught, even as her gaze stayed level on his. Her hand was steady as she reached it up to mirror his, placing it against his neck. And why wouldn’t it be steady? Because this was right, she knew it was.

Sam shivered slightly and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her touch or because her skin was cold. For a moment, both of them stood there, gazes locked, rooted to the spot. She cocked her head, a question.

And in answer, he leaned in and kissed her. Gently, barely a whisper. Like he was giving her the chance to pull away, if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. She wound her hand around his neck, pulling him closer, and felt her entire body hum. She felt his hands run down the sides of her body, fingertips digging lightly into her waist as she kissed him back. Kissed him in a way that let him know that it was OK, that it was right, that she’d known, for years, that this was meant to be.

Chapter Four

When she broke off the kiss, it wasn’t because she wanted to. She could have stayed there all night, kissing him in the snow, but her feet were freezing, and she was legitimately concerned that if she didn’t go inside soon she’d get frostbite, no matter what she’d said to Sam. She was breathing heavily when they broke apart, and was relieved to see that he was too.

“I’m…”

One corner of his mouth crooked up. “Cold?”

She nodded, and he raised one eyebrow.

“Told you.”

She hit him lightly on the arm in an attempt to be normal, casual. To pretend that it was no big deal, even though it was. She let him pull her inside, let out a little hiss as her feet registered the warmth of the chalet and signaled to her just how cold they’d been.