“I should be the one up the ladder,” he muttered.
“No way. You got to cut the tree down, now it’s my turn for some fun. But seriously, if you make me laugh I’m going to fall down and then you’ll be sorry.”
“Okay, no more stories about Luca.” When she looked down, he was grinning, a look of such boyish charm on his face that her heart stammered in her throat for a moment.
“Agreed,” she said a second too late, turning back to the job at hand, hooking the ribbon over a branch and leaning back a little to observe her handiwork.
“Be careful,” he said firmly, lifting his hands to her hips and holding her steady.
It was unnecessary but no way would Isabella say that. She liked the feel of his hands on her body, anytime, anywhere.
“You all sound so close.” Her voice was wistful, heavy with the envy of an only child.
“Would you have liked siblings?”
She began to climb down the ladder, but Gabe didn’t move backwards, so his arms formed, for a moment, an embrace. She looked up at him, her heart in her throat, something clicking into place deep in her soul.
“Yeah,” she said after a moment, working hard to focus on what he was saying. “Siblings, cousins, family beyond my adopted dad.”
“What about when you were in foster care?”
“I was never anywhere long enough to feel connected. A couple of the houses I was at had other children, but you know, it’s hard.” She smiled awkwardly and ducked under his arm, lifting another bird from the ornament box. “Look,” she said. “It’s a perfect match.”
She moved back to the tree, scanning it for gaps.
“I think,” she said as she dangled the ribbon over a waist-height branch, “I was always a bit afraid.”
He reached into the box and pulled out another ornament – a bell – and moved to the other side of the tree, suspending it carefully.
“Of what?”
She stood back once more to admire their handiwork. “Well,” she searched for the right words, aware she was confessing something to Gabe she’d never even really admitted to herself. “I’d been pushed from pillar to post, and the only person who’d ever really loved me had died when I was just eight years old. I never had any idea what unconditional love felt like – for me it was always conditional. I thought that if I was a good enough girl, if I made dinners and kept the house clean, my dad would get better. That he’d be proud of me. Happy with me. That he’d love me after all.” She turned away from him, moving mechanically towards the box, grabbing the first decoration she could see – a sled with Father Christmas atop it, carved from wood.
It brought a small smile to her lips, the retro paint reminding her of some of the decorations she’d had as a child.
“And instead, he just kept getting sicker and sicker and then he gave me away.”
When she turned around, he was watching her with an intensity that took her breath away. She pushed a smile to her face and moved back to the tree, looking for a bare spot to put the sled.
“I just couldn’t bring myself to get settled anywhere after that,” she said with a lift of her shoulders. “I saw every foster placement as temporary, just a place to hang out for a while. I was courteous and polite, but never really myself. I didn’t want to get to know new people, and I didn’t want them to get to know me.”
She shrugged self-consciously.
“I guess it was like a defence mechanism.” She’d employed it time and time again and now she realised she’d probably been protecting herself when she’d walked away from Andrew. Oh, he wasn’t the right fit for her, but maybe that was why she’d been attracted to him in the first place? Perhaps it was that she had subconsciously gravitated towards the kind of partner who was non-threatening. She hadn’t loved him. She’d never got close. She hadn’t even cried when they’d broken up! What was that if not proof that she was still isolating herself from being hurt?
And to think, she’d accused Gabe of being the one who was scared to feel anything!
Heat stole through her cheeks. She changed the subject deliberately, wanting to shift the focus from herself. “Where did you get all these? They’re adorable.”
“Adorable?” His smile made her heart thump. “I am not sure I would have used that word to describe them.”
“Why not?”
He laughed. “I suppose it’s just not in my vocabulary.” Something flickered in his eyes and then he moved back to the box, lifting out a glimmering gold elf. “As for where I got these, Yaya, of course.”
“They’re your childhood ornaments?”
“In a sense. She’s a collector, and from the moment we were born she began assembling a box of Christmas decorations for each of us. I haven’t thought about that in years. It was a very thoughtful thing for her to do. I daresay she hoped she was raising another generation of Christmas lovers.”
Isabella smiled. “Are any of you?”
“No.” He grinned; her stomach twisted. “I like Christmas the least of all, but my brothers and cousins are not particularly enamoured of it. However, we all pretend, for Yaya’s sake.” He moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “They’re all settled down now, either married or engaged, with children or children on the way, so they seem to care for the holiday a little more too.”
“I guess having children would make it really come to life.”
“Si,” he agreed, closing the fridge. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
His eyes flared, the reason for her appetite and unspoken awareness between them. “Then have a seat; I’ll make some dinner.”
Everything seemed to be tipping sideways. Isabella felt as though she’d stumbled into a situation that made no sense, and yet it did at the same time. Everything felt so very, very perfect –
