Page 45 of Mistletoe Mistake
“I'll answer you if you answer me.” Gemma's eyes were as warm and inviting as always, and I could hardly believe how comfortable it felt to talk to her. She made it easy to forget that ten minutes ago, I'd had her tied up and at my mercy, fucking her like there was no tomorrow. Although, when my gaze strayed down to her still-naked body, that was equally hard to forget too.
For the moment, I forced myself to focus back on her face as I answered her question bluntly. “Christmas reminds me of my ex-fiancée. I proposed at the beginning of December and she left me on Christmas Eve."
"On Christmas Eve?" Gemma repeated in horror, as if that detail were somehow worse than the fact that Samantha had robbed me blind.
My chest tightened at the memory. It had been a long time since I'd thought about that night on purpose, let alone told anyone about it. Only a handful of people in the world knew these details, but for some reason, the idea of telling Gemma about it didn't seem unbearable. As she pointed out, I’d already discovered her personal humiliation. She might as well know mine.
"I was really excited about that Christmas," I admitted. "I bought her a new car, one she’d mentioned a few times that she liked, and I planned this whole ridiculous scavenger hunt for her to find it. I even stayed up late, after she'd gone to sleep, to plant all the clues. I left the first one next to her toothbrush in our bathroom. She wasn't a morning person, so it didn’t worry me that she might see it before I got up. Usually, I woke up hours before her.”
The memory was still so fresh in my mind if I let myself remember: the soft moonlight through the window as I crept into bed beside Samantha, the light floral scent of her perfume as I kissed her goodnight. The last time I saw her.
“But when I woke up on Christmas morning, the bed was empty. I went to the bathroom to look for her, but she had gone and so had the clue. I guess she wasn't in so much of a hurry that she didn't have time to find the car and take it with her, along with all her other presents that were under the tree.”
Gemma gasped, her face scrunched up in horrified disbelief. “She didn't even say anything? She just left?"
I simply nodded. There was nothing more to add.
"How long did it take you to figure out what happened?”
“Too long.” I tried to laugh, but even I could hear how hollow it sounded. “At first, I thought someone had taken her and I nearly lost my mind. I tried phoning her but there was no answer. I called her brother, but of course, he didn't pick up either. My next call was going to be the police, but something made me call Jackson first. When I told him about the car and the presents being gone, and how there was no sign of anyone breaking in, he suggested I check my bank account before I involved the police. He saw the truth before I did.”
“Oh Cole. That's awful.” Gemma looked almost more upset about it than I felt, but I supposed I’d had longer to get used to the idea. “It's hard to believe that anyone could be that cruel.”
“Ten million dollars can do that to you, I guess.” I shrugged, trying not to show that it still affected me at all. “I have to bear at least part of the blame. I should have known something was off. She shouldn't have been able to blindside me so completely.”
Gemma's head shook vigorously, her red hair swishing back and forth over her shoulders. “No way. Don't do that. It's not your fault. You put your trust in someone who abused it, and that is on her, completely. You can't blame yourself, Cole.”
I disagreed. “I can, but don't worry: I still blame her more. In any case, she showed me that trust is overrated, and so is Christmas.” With that summary, I cleared my throat, ready to change the subject. “Now, it's your turn. Why are you so obsessed with this holiday?”
I could tell that Gemma didn't completely support my conclusion, but the Christmas question made her smile softly anyway.
“It's always been my favourite time of year. When I was young, my brother and I would always spend the holiday with my grandparents, my mum's parents. My dad's family was aristocratic, of course, but not my mum's. She came from a tiny town in the Orkney islands, in the north of Scotland. Every year, we'd go up to Mainland just before Christmas, and for the only time all year, we got to be 'normal'. Up there, we weren't the Earl's kids. We were just Gemma and Tom."
I nodded in understanding. From my own childhood, I knew how important those moments were when no one cared about your status.
"The local families let us take part in all their activities, but never gave us any kind of special treatment," she continued. "I suppose it wasn't really anything special, but it seemed like something magical to me. And now, whenever I do something Christmasy, I remember what it felt like when nobody had any expectations of me just because of my name.”
My mind returned to the memory that had come back to me earlier that evening of baking gingerbread at my grandparents' house, and surprisingly, I gave in to the urge to share it with her. “Actually, my childhood Christmases were very similar. We went to stay with my grandparents on their farm, far away from the city and all the hotels where the staff treated me like a little prince. My grandparents and I would bake things and go sledding and go for hay rides, and it felt special precisely because it was so normal.”
Gemma smiled wider, her eyes taking on that special twinkle they got when she had something up her sleeve. “You know what I think, Cole?”
Her enthusiasm was so contagious, I couldn't help smiling back. “I think you're trouble, but no, I don't know what you're thinking.”
She narrowed her eyes at me playfully. “I think you could be persuaded to like Christmas again. You had one bad Christmas... oneverybad one, I'll grant you, but still only one. That doesn't mean it should ruin the day for the rest of your life. I'm going to make it my mission to save Christmas for you.”
The ridiculousness of her 'mission' coupled with the complete earnestness in her voice made me snigger. It sounded impossible, but I had to admit she had me curious. “How do you plan to do that?”
“You said you'll let me fill your schedule, yes?”
I nodded in agreement.
“Well, I have so many things planned, that sometime over the next two weeks, I am going to find the activity that will make you fall in love with Christmas all over again.” She looked completely delighted with herself, as if it would be as simple as that.
“You sound fairly certain that you'll succeed.” I was far less convinced.
“I am,” she replied with a grin. “In fact, why don't we make a wager on it?”
Now, she had my full attention. I could think of a few prizes I wouldn't mind claiming from her. “What kind of wager?”
