Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
There were reindeer and Santa hats, holly sprigs and sleighs, stars and candles that looked suspiciously like a penis if your mind was so inclined.
Mine was.
The chorus kicked in, and the previously dim lights of the main streets that veered off from the village square all burst into action, and the resounding lightshow was a spectacular two-and-a-half minutes of pulsing and twinkling and chasing lights.
I gazed at the lights with wonder for the entire time. I think I cricked my neck from looking around so many times, but there was something so magical about the way Castleton welcomed in Christmas.
Yes, we were a week into December, but I’d been so busy with the wedding and preparing to travel up here that it didn’t feel like Christmas.
Until now.
The song came to an end, and so did the show. The booming music gave way to raucous cheers that echoed from every inch of the square, and I happily focused on the star and the lights that spread from it to create a canopy over the area.
The feeling that I was being watched tingled down my spine, and I turned to look at Thomas, biting the inside of my cheek to hold back my smile.
He was utterly amused, and he didn’t even need to say a word. The glint of laughter in his eyes was backed up by the smile he was clearly trying to fight.
“Don’t say a word,” I said.
CHAPTER TEN – SYLVIE
I finally stabbed my fork into my waffle. Sure, the chocolate and the cream had melted, but that was my own fault. That’s what happened when I got distracted by pretty, pretty lights.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, turning away, but his gaze flickered back to me several times.
Damn it.
I couldn’t believe I’d just gone happy little Christmas elf around him.
It was Castleton. It was being back here that was doing something to me—reminding me just how much I adored this time of year. All the lights and the happiness and the general togetherness that people felt. It was almost inspiring.
Of course, the good stuff always went hand in hand with the bad stuff. The greed and expense and materialistic side of Christmas was never fun, but I’d learnt to mind my own business.
You want to spoil your kids? Go for it. It’s your money.
You want to stick to a tight budget for each one? Go for it. It’s your money.
You want to pad their presents with functional items like a new coat or bedding set or pair of shoes? Go for it. It’s your money.
That’s what my parents did. I swear I never got more functional items than I did at Christmas and birthdays. Half my presents were new jeans or slippers or boots or a new scarf. The year I requested a room makeover, I got new curtains and a rug. The year Hazel grew out of almost all her shoes? She had three new pairs under the tree that Christmas.
Gifts are gifts, after all, and I never once complained about toothpaste and shampoo in my stocking, let me tell you.
Thank God I didn’t. Ever since I’d moved out, my mum had sent me a stocking as part of my Christmas gift, and it included toothpaste and shampoo and deodorant and paracetamol and tampons.
And socks.
God, I loved getting socks for Christmas. If my roommates weren’t accidentally stealing them, the washing machine was eating them.
Yes to functional Christmas gifts. It was time we normalised that.
If I ever stood for Prime Minister, that would be my manifesto. Normalising giving useful items for Christmas. Making stockings a care package.
“Are those my waffles?” Beth rushed over, swiftly followed by Danny and Emily, Thomas’ mum.
Thomas barely had time to hold the polystyrene container out before she took it from his hands, opened it, and shovelled a forkful of goodness into her mouth with a happy moan.
I fought back a laugh. “Good?”
Emily smiled at her, touching her shoulder, then turned to me. “Sylvie, honey, it’s been a while.”
I was wrapped in a hug with just enough time to spare to hold my waffles out of the way, but that didn’t stop me getting some chocolate on her shoulder. “Oh, goodness,” I said, pulling back. “There’s chocolate on your shoulder. I’m sorry.”
Emily pulled back and twisted to look, then wiped it away. “No harm. It’s just sauce. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m good, thank you. You?”
“Fantastic.” Her smile was contagious. “Your grandma asked me to let you know that she and your gramps are going home. Something about tucking the pig into bed.”
“Of course, she needs tucking into bed.”
Hopefully it’d be the pig’s bed and not mine this time.
Emily laughed. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“She was like a three-year-old in a toy shop,” Thomas responded for me.
“Look at that,” I replied, looking at him. “I answered without saying a word.”