The Promise Of December Part 4

"How did they meet?" Noel asks, circling a tree that's so bushy the branches catch his coat.

"A bar in Wales. Gran was on a family holiday with her parents while Grandpa was home from the War, he was an Air Force Pilot. He bought her a drink and three years later they were married, living in London with their first child on the way."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah." We reach the end of the first row, turning to walk down the next whilst the smell of winter pine continues to fill the open s.p.a.ce. Each tree has its own individual beauty but nothing has sparked my interest. Everyone Noel asks about I have a reason for not wanting it. I can remember my gran saying When you know, you know.' She pretty much said that about everything in life.

"How about this one?" Noel asks, pointing to a short dumpy one.

"Too small,"

"That one?"

"Too big,"

"Hmm..." He turns behind him. "That's a good one."

I run my hand along the branch, the needles tickle my skin as they drop into my hand. "Too dry."

"Jeez, this is going to be a long day, I should've packed up a food hamper." He chuckles.

"Hey!" I grin, shoving him with my shoulder. "I told you it wouldn't be easy." His arm comes around me to pull me into him. He kisses my head but I don't feel it through the thickness of my hat. It's possible that I'm missing them on me.

"Come on, Miss Awkward," He grabs my hand. "Let's head down toward the bottom, all the best ones are there."

We make our way through the ocean of trees, inspecting them as we go. Noel examines them more than I do. I am merely checking out his a.s.s, the cosy fit of his jeans causing my lip to pull between my teeth. Even in thick winter clothing, you can make out the sculpture of his physique. A weight I am desperate to have on me as he drives me wild. I've not stopped thinking of him all night, the early hours alone became hard to bear as my fingers slipped between my thighs with only him in mind. If we weren't accompanied with other tree buyers, I'd most likely jump him right here.

The further down we head the boggier it becomes. Although the sun is out, weeks of previous ice cold November rain swamps the ground. My heels start to sink and slide on the sloppy ground as I walk. I'm not overly worried about ruining my shoes, it's more in case I fall. Witnessing my gran fall and break her hip has haunted me since. "You go take a look, I'll stay here."

His brows line. "Why?"

"It's muddy." I point to my feet, stating the obvious.

"Tamzin, it's a field. Believe it or not, mud comes with fields. And why are you wearing heels like that when there's mud around?"

"Why are you wearing shades in the middle of December when the sun's hardly out?"

"Point taken." He grins but leaves them in place.

I look around to try and find an easier option in getting to the bottom of the field, when I'm immediately thrown over his shoulder in one quick sweep. My legs in the air, I'm shrieking like a child as I laugh out my demands. "Noel Thompson, put me down this instant!"

"I'm trying to save your heels." I can hear the smile behind his words.

"By giving me a head rush?"

He slaps my a.s.s. "I'm saving that for later."

Once at the bottom, I'm s.h.i.+fted around his waist, he makes no attempt to place me down which suits me fine. The closer I am to him the more my tummy flutters. "How about that one?" He chuckles. I follow where he points, having to tip my head back so my eyes reach the top.

"Noel, that's big enough to be centre stage in Trafalgar Square. Be practical." I look over his shoulder scanning my eyes over a dozen more trees.

Then I see it.

Like a beautiful green angel sitting confident and proud in the ground. When you find it, you'll know.' My grandmother's words whisper through my mind as my heart beats faster. "That one!" I shriek, pointing to the six-foot Norwegian Spruce full of deep green bushy branches from head to toe. It is beautiful. Not worried about slipping on the mud, I wriggle out of Noel's grip and edge towards my tree, inspecting it a little closer. I'm surprised at how happy I feel when I never wanted to come here to begin with. My hands run along the branches as I breathe in its glorious Christmas scent, filling my lungs with the goodness I've missed out on for years.

"I want this one!" Adamant on my findings, I turn to the forest guys that approach. "Get your hacksaw, Mr Christmas, I just got myself a beauty."

An unusual feeling rushes within me but I refuse to call it excitement. I turn back to Noel, his shades now sitting firmly on his head, gracing me with chocolate eyes. His arms are folded, face beaming as he gives me a wink. A satisfied sigh leaves my lungs. I can do this month even if it kills me. At least I have him to fall back on if I should crash.

A powerful urge storms my belly and I go to him, grabbing his coat in my hands. I pull him close to capture his mouth, he tastes of mint as our tongues entwine, wrapping me in a coc.o.o.n of him. That sinful grin plasters his face. "What was that for?"

"Just because."

The guys from the cabin take over, cutting down my tree and netting it up for us, the body of it suddenly looking bigger than it did a half hour ago. I hate to admit it but today hasn't been as bad as what I thought it would. That thought brings a flicker of hope in my soul. Maybe he can find me my Christmas. "Do they deliver?" I ask.

"Yeah but we're taking it now. I want the afternoon spent decorating it."

I draw my brows in confusion as I look up at him, "So how we getting it home?"

"Well, there's this thing called a back seat, you often find them in a car."

I punch his shoulder. "Oh you're hilarious, you know that?"

"I try my best." He moves away from me, eagerness in his movements as he heads towards the car. "Come on, twinkle-toes, let's go get it all sparkled up with fairy lights and tinsel."

Noel.

"You make the coffees while I drag this beast inside," I shout to Tamzin after stoking up the fire. I pull the heavy tree from the back seat and into her pathway. Warmth flows my body as I fight with it, causing me to strip off my coat and scarf along with my jumper, working against the cold wind in just my t-s.h.i.+rt and jeans. I'm elated on how the day is going. I thought her picking a tree would be harder than it was, given the fact dread filled her features the moment she stepped out the car. It made me realise just how hard this whole Christmas thing is for her.

Getting the saw from the boot of my car, I cut a few inches off the bottom before pulling the tree up with a grunt. It's heavier than it looks which means it'll last. Dragging it inside, I order Tamzin to hold the tree upright so I can fix it firmly into the tree stand. It's still in the netting, which is easier for her to hold, but a few branches poke out in various places. "You got it?"

"Yeah."

"Hold it steady." I slide under the tree to secure it in place as her laugh bl.u.s.ters out above me. "You alright up there?"

"I believe I have a p.r.i.c.k between my legs."

"I should hope not." My low laugh vibrates against the laminated floor. "That p.u.s.s.y belongs to me remember?"

"Only as far as your mouth is concerned. It hasn't officially been c.o.c.k claimed."

"Is this you complaining, Miss King?"

"Just stating a fact, Mr Thompson." She's adorable and already has my head all over the place.

I hear her sigh happily, placing her foot on my a.s.s and pus.h.i.+ng me down slightly. "You know I'm happy for you to stay there all afternoon if you wanted."

"Why's that?"

"Because your s.h.i.+rt has rolled up and I've just noticed another tattoo."

"You like a man better with tattoos?" The one on my lower back is an angel wing design with a date running through the middle. A date that changed our family forever.

"I like any man; the tattoos just make him more appealing to look at." I push up off the floor and almost die. Her cheeks flushed from the fire, bottom lip placed firmly between her teeth, she runs her eyes sinfully over my body. This girl is slowly killing me. I step away from her eager hands and give the tree a once over, satisfied that it's firmly in place.

"Right, now we just need to decorate it."

"Can we decorate each other first?" Her voice is breathy. She steps closer, wrapping her arms around me and pushes up on her tiptoes. As much as I want her, I also want to finish the task in hand because I'm getting the feeling she's stalling.

"Decorations, Tamzin. Where are they?"

Her eyes change, quickly losing the desire. "They're in the loft. I've not had them out in years. But, Noel, you-" Not wanting to waste a minute, I head into the hall where the loft hatch is, pulling the ladder out from the roof s.p.a.ce and climbing in.

"Noel, you really don't have to do this now," she shouts up, sounding annoyed.

"Tamzin, the whole point in getting a tree is to decorate it. So that's what we're doing."

"I'll do it tomorrow."

I find the box that's labelled Christmas' in a child's handwriting and pull it towards me. A musical feature from inside plays out the soft melodies of Wish you a merry Christmas'. Placing the box in the living room, I open up it up to find trinkets and treasures in Christmas colours from the compact s.p.a.ce.

"That's not the right box." Her words are low as I search the room for what I am looking for.

"I'll put on the tree lights while you find what you need," I inform, taking the tangled light from the bag I brought from home. She doesn't move. Her eyes focus on the opened box, her stance now lacking confidence and att.i.tude. Minutes pa.s.s, and she's still stood in the same spot; her knuckles white with tension. She's fighting with herself, and my guess is because she's not seen that box in years.

I can sense her irritation burning through her as I whistle out Christmas tunes whilst I shape the fairy lights in between the branches.

"Can you stop, please!" she snaps. Even though I knew it was brewing, it still surprises me some.

"Sorry, call it habit. You can't go through Christmas without doing a singalong."

"You can get through Christmas without having to do anything!"

I leave the remaining lights hanging on the branches and step towards her. I keep myself calm, aware that this wasn't easy. "Tamzin, in order to gain from this month, you need to partic.i.p.ate."

Her eyes leave the box and meet mine; they've now reverted back to the confused haunted ones I saw the night of the party. "And in order for me to partic.i.p.ate you need to live up to what I agreed on."

"Which is?"

"f.u.c.k me!"

I bite back my amus.e.m.e.nt. I can't work out if her redesigned att.i.tude is from s.e.xual frustration or the fact I'm pus.h.i.+ng her in a direction she never wanted to go. I step closer, brus.h.i.+ng my hand over hers to entwine our fingers. My other hand rests on her hip, jerking her towards me as I place my lips to the corner of her mouth. The little s.h.i.+ver throughout her body sends a rush of excitement straight to my c.o.c.k as I slip my tongue into her mouth. She moans into me and I feel her tension slip away before her body soon builds with desire. I pull back and move my lips along her jaw to her ear, keeping my voice low.

"I'll f.u.c.k you when you've decorated that tree."

Her shoulders drop. "You're such an a.s.shole."

Tamzin.

I don't know whether to laugh, cry or slap him. Even with my anger of him getting the box down from the loft, I can't help but want him. I've wanted him since yesterday. I don't think I have it in me to do what he was asking, purely because the box he brought down is in fact a treasure box of Christmas's over time rather than the actual one he was after.

I felt physically sick when he opened it. That familiar smell of history lingered up my nose causing my gut to twist. All I could do was stand motionless and in turn hope that the ground would swallow me whole.

I've not looked in that box in years, not since my grandparents died the year of my twenty-first and I decided from then on Christmas would forever be cancelled. I never knew what it was like to lose someone. My mother died right after childbirth so I was inexperienced. But when I lost both of them in a matter of weeks my world crashed. I was in Egypt on my first Girls only' holiday when I got the call to say my gran had suddenly been taken ill. She died from a stroke sometime between me boarding the plane and returning back in London. My grandpa was not the man I left just days before, he was a wreck, and I had to be the strong one. He became broken and frailer as the days went on and pa.s.sed away in his sleep four weeks to the very day that my gran died. I never believed in dying of a broken heart until that day.

I'm still stood where Noel kept me hanging. He's returned back to continue putting the lights on the tree as past times jump out at me from the box on the floor. Noel was right again. I need to partic.i.p.ate if I'm wanting to find my belief in the festive season.

Exhaling a deep breath, I force myself to move, kneeling down to the floor in front of the box of treasures. I don't have to look up to know that Noel's eyes are on me.

"There are so many memories in here," I whisper. My chest is tight with pent-up emotion. After all this time, I've still yet to feel any kind of acceptance so I can finally move on. Still waiting to have the first tear fall as the volcano of grief explodes from my body. I've never known how to let go.

Noel is at my side, curling himself around me. He's the courage I need. I reach for the lantern that's staring back at me and lift it out of the compact s.p.a.ce. Years up in a cold damp loft leaves it ice cold in my hands.

"I always carried this when out walking on the cold evenings when I was little." I smile at the memory of those winters. "My red winter dress coat and white woollen hat used to make me feel like a grownup. My hair was always in long blond curls and I used to love looking at the s.h.i.+ne of my black patent shoes. I felt special. I loved that red coat." I place the lantern aside and reach for the crumpled up paper, still covered with traces of glitter. The pen marks still evident after twenty years as three stick people with funky hair and a Christmas tree spread across the dull looking paper. I smile. "I can still remember Grampa's face the day I ran out the school gates with this. I was five years old and it was my first Christmas drawing, I was so excited to show them."

"It's a cute picture. What's that?" Noel points to a small black blob with pointy ears and I laugh.

"That's Charlie. He was my imaginary cat and went everywhere with me even in my drawings."

"Did you not have a real one?"

"I obsessed over having a cat for years and they finally got me one when I was seven. I named him Dopey because even awake he looked tired. I only had him for six months."

"What happened?"

"Grandpa ran over him by accident. He was the worst person in the world and I cried myself to sleep for weeks. They were both horrified when I declared him a p.u.s.s.y killer one Sunday. Little did I know then what the term p.u.s.s.y' was often used for." Noel's manly chuckle erupts from his chest causing me to laugh with him.

He reaches into the box and pulls out the item I was trying to avoid: my snow globe. I watch him examine the large globe with care, shaking the heaviness of it in his hands for the liquid to swirl the snow. In the centre is a Victorian Village with children playing in the street as snow rests on the ground and trees. My breath catches when he twists the winding key to set the music playing. I close my eyes to the melodies of Wish you a Merry Christmas'.

The tightness in my chest increases, my nails hurting my hands as I squeeze my fists. "That was the last thing they gave me," I whisper. Noel moves his arm around my shoulder as his lips kiss my hair.

I lean into his embrace, taking the globe from him to give it a final shake as the rest of the music plays out. I love this thing. I push up off the floor and walk to the fireplace, placing the globe in the centre of the mantelpiece to watch the last few flutters of snow settle while I think about my next hurdle I have to climb. I draw in a deep breath and exhale, pus.h.i.+ng out the tension.

I turn on my heels to find Noel still sitting on the floor watching me. I place my hands on my hips and tilt my head, s.h.i.+fting the mood of melancholy to my usual sarcasm. "The tree won't dress itself, young man. Get your a.s.s off my floor and go get the right boxes." His s.e.xy grin draws across his face as he comes to a stand. "Chop chop!"

"I like it when you're bossy," he says as he leaves.

"Oh please, you haven't seen nothing yet."

Every available s.p.a.ce in my living room is covered in Christmas. I had more boxes than I realised and Noel insisted in looking in all of them just in case we missed anything. He's such a kid when it comes to stuff like this. A Santa hat is on his head, green tinsel around his neck as he rummages through the boxes like he's looking for buried treasure. I can't help but watch in amus.e.m.e.nt. One thing I've learned in the little time I've spent with him is that my mood isn't dampened long enough to get the chocolate out and binge. Everyone he sees loves him, his characteristics, his charm and his playfulness. He's an all-around good guy with a hot body.

"Stop checking me out and come help me," he says, hanging a red bauble on a branch.

"No I'm good here, the view is great and you're doing a wonderful job." I smile.

"Tamzin."

"Noel," I mock. I go to him, taking a bauble from the box and placing it on the branch. Then I sneakily switch some around that he placed just moments ago.