Authors: Fiona Greene

Home For Christmas (14 page)

Her phone rang as she added a reminder to her list and Tate’s photo popped up on her screen. That was quick.

She took a deep breath and answered the call. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey yourself.’

She grimaced at his tone. ‘Did you see my text?’

‘Yeah.’ Tate drew the word out. ‘It’s a no.’

‘Do you want to think some more before you say definitely no?’

‘Nope.’ His sigh echoed down the line. ‘She’s not going to ruin our first Christmas together.’ He wasn’t yelling, that had to be good. ‘We’ll spend our first Christmas with the important people in our lives. Maybe she’ll get to ruin it some other time, but not this year. This year is for us.’

‘I worry about her.’

He sighed again. ‘Sometimes, I worry too. Once the silly season is over I might try and figure out where she is and go visit one weekend.’

‘I could come with you.’ Layla tried to keep the hope out of her voice.

‘Not that first time. It would complicate things and that’s not fair on either of you.’

‘I guess so.’ Layla twirled a strand of hair around her finger. ‘I want both of you to know the happiness of family, of belonging.’

‘I do know the happiness of family.’ His voice deepened. ‘I’ve got you, and you’re the most important person in my life.’

‘You’re the most important person in my life too.’ Layla sniffed back a sob.

She was so lucky to have a man like Tate in her life.

Chapter Sixteen

Bonsai Christmas, Gibbs Bay, December 25

‘Whisky.’ Layla put on her stern voice and pointed to the dog hammock in the shade of the veranda. ‘Bed.’ He was already hobbling after his enthusiastic exploration of the cemetery this morning, he didn’t need to keep her company as she paced.

Panting, he stopped at his water bowl, then slunk down the stairs and disappeared round the side of the house. Layla couldn’t help but smile. Some time in the last week, while she’d been frantic with deliveries, Whisky had discovered he could squeeze in under the veranda and had dug himself the canine equivalent of a hill fort, protected on all sides but with visibility to both the front gate and the driveway.

Two nights ago he’d been nowhere to be found when she arrived home. Her frantic search had discovered first his scraped-out entry point, then him, beautifully cool and gently snoring, deep in the fresh, damp earth on the southern side of the house. She glanced down at the scratches on her hands and knees from her desperate commando-crawl when she’d called him and he hadn’t responded.

Layla reached the far end of the veranda and pivoted. Maybe she’d missed Tate’s message to say he’d collected the hire car and was on the way. She patted her pockets and fear surged through her.

Damn, she must have left the phone inside after Carise rang. She crossed the veranda in seconds and flung open the screen door. She checked the kitchen, then the lounge. No phone.

Think
.

She played the morning over again. Cemetery. Home. Finished preparation for lunch. Shower. Kitchen. Veranda. Carise’s call. Bedroom.

Heart pounding, she hurried back down the hall to her bedroom and spied her phone sitting innocently on the dresser. She checked the display.

Still no message. Tate had promised to text her as soon as his flight landed. Christmas was notorious for flight delays but two hours was unreasonable. At this rate, they’d be having lunch at dinnertime.

She pocketed her phone and walked back through to the lounge. She stopped, transfixed, in front of the eight-foot-high fir she’d been nurturing since June. Her company’s first ever full-size live tree, wrapped with handmade garland comprising thousands of gold hearts on swathes of sparkly scarlet ribbon. Piles of presents were stacked around its base, a sea of red tied with gold and green. She ran her hand lightly up its perfectly manicured side and smiled. Their first Christmas together was going to be one they remembered forever.

If he ever got here.

She spun around and was on her way back to the kitchen to log onto the computer and check the airline site when a thunderous knock made her jump. She walked out into the lounge and as her eyes adjusted to the intensity of the summer sun behind her silhouetted visitor, her heart stopped.

‘Tate.’ She ripped the screen door open and launched herself into his arms.

‘Layla.’

His lips captured hers, and she melted against him. A full minute later, he dropped his mouth to her neck and whispered, ‘I’ve been dreaming about this moment ever since you ripped my heart out by making me leave you in Glen Innes.’

Layla’s stomach clenched. ‘Me too.’ She reached up to run her finger down the chiselled contour of his cheek. ‘You were going to ring when your flight landed.’

He captured her hand in his and kissed each of her fingertips. ‘I thought you liked surprises.’

‘I do.’ Heat coursed through her. ‘You’re the best surprise of all. Come on in. I’m so happy you’re here.’

‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else.’ He followed her into the lounge and captured her hand in his. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I missed you too.’

‘Come with me.’ Tate pulled her over towards the tree. He stopped and turned her towards him. Slowly, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand and stared into her eyes. ‘Layla, I love you. Now and forever.’ He reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box. He dropped to one knee. ‘Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ He flicked the lid back and offered up an enormous inky sapphire, surrounded by diamonds.

Time stopped.

Layla opened her mouth a few times but nothing came out. ‘Oh Tate,’ she finally managed, drawing in a shaky breath. ‘Yes…Yes…Yes.’

Tate’s face lit up. He eased the ring onto her finger. ‘Layla, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’ He kissed her again, this time long and slow, and when he raised his head his eyes were dark with passion. ‘No matter what happens, no matter where we end up, I know we’ll always share a loving home for Christmas.’

The End

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