#12xrose

After so long, Rose knew him better than she knew herself, and just crossed her arms and stared at him, waiting him out.  He tried to hide behind his sunglasses, then focused on the baby, making sure he was properly shaded by the umbrella and blanket, adjusting the teeny hat and slumber-heavy limbs.

“I just… think she’d like it,” he finally said.  “When Clara was that age, she loved it, and usually I was the one taking her to class, and it was a great bonding time for us.  I think it would be good for JJ – she gets some one-on-one with me, and exercise is always good, and she could make friends, and… I want her to have that experience.”  He wouldn’t quite meet her eye, and Rose pursed her lips as she considered him.

He got this way sometimes; a bit lost in his head, and the past, trying to give JJ the same experiences Clara’d had.  Of course they were in a much better position in nearly every way than Malcolm and Missy had been when Clara was the same age, but he was very conscious of making sure JJ got plenty of his time and attention.  Rose sensed more to this story existed, but she trusted her husband’s intentions.

“If it means that much to you,” she agreed, “sure.  We can ask her if she’s interested.  Can you find her a studio or something?  Handle all of that, then?”

“Yeah, of course.  There’s one two blocks from home that’s got good reviews.  I’ll book her in when we get back,” he lit up.  “I think she’s going to love it.”

Rose looked towards her daughter, who was now alternating between running from the waves then chasing them back to the sea, squealing the whole time while Clara and Danny laughed and splashed her.  “Me too.”

-

Six weeks later, Rose couldn’t tell whether her husband or daughter was more excited for her first dance class.

“Maybe we should get there early,” Malcolm fussed, checking his watch again.  “There could be traffic.”

“You’re walking two and a half blocks, love,” she said patiently, “and she doesn’t have to be there for another hour, let alone when the class actually starts.  JJ, sit and eat your carrots.”  Taking another bite of her own meal, Rose realized she was the only one eating; Olly was more interested in squishing his hands in his mashed potatoes, Malcolm kept checking the weather, time, and route to the dance studio, and JJ wasn’t even at the table.

Already dressed in her black leotard and pink tutu, hair up in a bun, the four-year-old kept spinning in circles.  “I’m practicing my turns, Mummy!”

“You’re gonna make yourself dizzy.  Sit and eat, so you can make it through class.”  Rose gave her a look, which was promptly ignored, if even seen.  “Jennifer Jacqueline, I won’t tell you again.”

“Yes, Mummy,” she stopped immediately, eyes wide, plopping back in her chair and nibbling on a carrot.

Feeling only a little bad for breaking out the full name, Rose came around and kissed her daughter on the forehead, smoothing a few stray hairs into place.  “I know you’re excited, but if you don’t eat you’ll be too tired to dance, and I don’t want you to miss any of it.”  God, we really do become our mothers.  I remember her sayin’ that to me before my first gymnastics class!

Meeting Malcolm’s gaze, she was filled with a surge of affection for her family and the life they’d built.  “The time for dance class will be here soon enough, but for now, it’s dinner time.  See, look at Daddy- he’s eating, so you should be too.”

Pouting almost as much as their daughter was, he reluctantly relinquished his mobile onto the table and picked up his fork, stabbing a few carrots.  “JJ, did you know carrots make you dance better?”

“Really?”  Not waiting for an answer, their budding ballerina shoved a handful of them in her mouth, making her parents laugh.

Returning to her seat and meal, Rose just watched as Malcolm spun yarn, his disciple hanging on his every word as the baby guggled happily beside her.

I just hope she loves this class as much as he wants her to.

-

Getting ready for bed that night, Rose listened with one ear as Malcolm regaled her with a minute-by-minute account of the ballet class; she’d heard it already at least twice from each of them, but the enthusiasm was contagious, and she was just glad it had gone well.

Turning off the bathroom light she padded across the room to the bed, skirting around to his side and climbing up.

“And her little face!  I’ve never seen her take anything so seriously in her life, except for cake.  I just- Hello.”

“Hi.”  She straddled her husband, leaning forward and kissing him deeply which he reciprocated, running his hands over her.

Rocking languidly against him, guiding his hands to her curves, she let him get good and worked up before abruptly rolling away, stretching out on her side next to him facing him.

“The fuck?”  He was adorably rumpled, baffled by her sudden disappearance, hands still cupping air where moments before had been her breasts.

“Why is this ballet thing so important to you?”

Malcolm slowly shifted down to face her, expression on the verge of sulking.  “That was cruel.”  He put his hand on her hip and she allowed it, but gave it a firm touch, silently telling him it can stay here, but no more.

“Babe.”

He sighed, grumbling, as he kneaded her hip and contemplated her question.  “I… want to take her to see the Nutcracker this Christmas, at the Royal Opera House.”

“Okay.”

When she didn’t say anything else his expression brightened, palm attempting to slide around to her bum, but she returned it to her hip, raising an eyebrow.  I know there’s more.

His expression turned mutinous, but eventually shifted to resigned, and he rolled onto his back.  “When we first moved to London, I promised Clara I would take her.  By the time I remembered, all the tickets were sold and we couldn’t get in.  The following year I did remember, but when I surprised her with them she refused to go, said she was too old, it was for babies, et cetera.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah, only I found out years later, she did want to go.  That she’d been dropping hints for months which I’d admittedly missed, and was so upset I hadn’t said or done anything that she threw a fit.  She’d wanted me to essentially grovel, I suppose, cajole her into it, and I didn’t.  I mean, I did, I asked her a few times, said we could go for the first act and if she didn’t like it we could leave, but I suppose it wasn’t the dramatic begging she’d expected, and, well, after a few refusals I accepted her answer and gave the tickets away.  I didn’t find out about any of this until she was, oh, seventeen, and we had a big blow out about it.”

Rose placed her hand on his chest over his heart.  “You’re a wonderful father.”

He rolled his head to face her, smiling wanly.  “I’d like to think so.”

“No, you are,” she insisted.  “Both of your daughters would agree if they were here right now.  Why did Clara think-”

“You never really know what your kids pick up on,” he said, cutting her off with an apologetic squeeze.  “Apparently she’d watched me beg Missy for scraps of affection- not just for me, for both of us- too many times, and thought that was… I dunno… appropriate?  That you shouldn’t give in until that happens?  She obviously knows better now, but she was only a kid then, and you model what you see.  We’ve talked it over, long since resolved it and forgiven each other, but…”

“But you still want to take your little girl to the show,” Rose understood, “and you’re afraid that if it looks like your idea, Clara’s feelings will get hurt.”

“Yeah.”  He let out a breath like a weight had been taken off his chest.  “And, I suppose I could just take them both, but… I don’t want JJ to feel like everything has to always include her siblings, especially Clara.  Which sounds awful, but they’re at such different stages of life… I want this to just be me and her.  And I feel like a shit father for wanting to exclude my child, even if she is an adult.  Especially when she probably already feels excluded from our lives, at least as a child of this family.”

“Clara understands-”

“You cried when your parents took Tony to Disneyland Paris,” he cut her off again, rolling back onto his side to face her.  “Rose, you sobbed so hard I thought you were going to be sick.  And you were perfectly fine with it- at least as far as I could tell- until the night they left.  And don’t say it’s different, because it’s not.”

Rose remembered that night, how she’d broken down after they’d called to tell her they’d arrived.  How every excited chirp from her brother had felt like being stabbed in the heart, even though she’d given her blessing and been fully in favor of the trip until that moment.  “Maybe Clara’s a better person than I am.”

“I love my child with everything I am, but Rose, no, she’s not.  I mean, it’s about a picture perfect finish between you- not that it’s a race- but… no, she’s not.”

“Rude,” she pinched him, grinning.  “You could take them each separately.  Doesn’t it start early in December?  Why not take Clara the first week, have that healing experience, then take JJ right before the holiday.  This way you get to experience it with both daughters, they’re not overshadowing each other, and JJ never has to know you took Clara first.”

He stayed silent, mulling the idea over, and this time when his hand slid back, she allowed it.  “Why are you so smart?  It’s not fair, you’ve got such beauty and brains.”

“The blonde is dye,” she reminded him with a laugh.  “And, I’ve got a different perspective on it.  That’s why you love me.”

“Part of it,” Malcolm allowed.  “All right, I’ll talk to Clara, see what she thinks – about her and I going, not the rest of it, at least for now.”

“Good.”

They laid there together in silence, almost nose to nose, and even after six years of marriage Rose was still overcome by the simplicity of his presence making her heart sing.

“So, can we…” he trailed off, and she laughed, obligingly rolling onto her back.

“Well, I suppose it’s only fair,” she said, feigning reluctance, and it didn’t take long for their laughter and teasing to turn to sighs and moans.

-

“Perfect,” Rose declared, putting down the hairspray.  “You’re all set.”

“Wow,” JJ breathed, admiring her reflection.  They’d gone shopping for a new dress specifically for the occasion, and Rose had given her the royal treatment – new earrings and a necklace, nails painted, some eye shadow and lip gloss, while white tights and shiny black ballet flats complimented the crushed velvet and tulle dress, and Rose’s heart twinged.

“You look so grown up,” she said softly, smoothing already-smooth hair just to touch her child.  “Are you looking forward to your date with daddy?”

“Uh huh,” the little head bounced, pulling faces in the mirror.  “I look so pretty!”

“Yes, you do.”

JJ turned then, throwing her arms around Rose.  “Thank you, Mummy.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Oh, God, I’m gonna cry. Rose struggled to keep her composure, hugging her daughter tightly.  “I love you so much JJ.”

A knock on JJ’s bedroom door pulled their attention, and Rose made her eyes big.  “I wonder who that could be?”  Stepping towards the door, she smiled at the giggling behind her as she opened it.  “Oh, hello sir, can I help you?”

Malcolm grinned.  “I’m looking for a Miss JJ Tucker.  Is she here?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” she rushed forward, elbowing her mother out of the way only to stop dead.  “Woah.  Are those for me?”

Rose was glad to already have her mobile out and filming, as she managed to catch the surprise and delight as JJ saw the small bouquet of flowers he held.

“Indeed they are,” he knelt down to pass them to her, and they laughed as JJ stuck her face into them, dramatically sniffing.

“Thank you, Daddy,” JJ threw her arms around his neck, nestling into him.  He held her close as long as she wanted, but his watery eyes were on Rose, and he mouthed thank you.

She just smiled, nodding, and eased the flowers from JJ’s hand.  “I’ll put these in water for you, baby, and we’ll put them on your dresser so you can see them when you go to sleep and wake up.”

“Okay,” JJ said, frowning, but Malcolm distracted her, taking her hand and leading her away.

“Are we all ready to go?”

“Yes, Daddy.  Can we meet any of the bal’rinas?”

Rose smiled as she followed them down the stairs, sniffing the flowers for herself – he’d picked them on his own, and they were perfect – bright pinks and soft purples, JJ’s favorite colors, with a few hints of blue.  Still recording the moment for posterity, she captured the excited squeal their daughter gave at seeing Graham all dressed up like an old-fashioned driver, the town car decorated inside and out for the season.

Waving goodbye, JJ’s bright smile in the window, wonder written all over her face, made Rose’s heart sing.

Stopping the recording she shook her head, closing and locking the door firmly behind her before heading for the living room, where Olly was just waking up in his playpen.

“Looks like it’s mummy-son date afternoon as well,” she cooed, picking him up as he babbled her name.  “What do you say we watch a movie?  Yeah?”  She blew a raspberry on the baby’s tummy, relishing his giggling.

One diaper change later they settled on the sofa, and Rose used the voice command to pick a movie.

Hoping to make a good impression he pulled her chair out for her, waiting for her to sit and push her in before sitting across from her.

“Oh!” was all she said about it, cheeks flushing a pretty pink.  “Erm- anyway, whatever it is, I’m the one to speak to.  What’s on your mind?”

Ian took a moment to gather his thoughts.  “I’m a musician,” he started, nodding to the guitar case beside him, “and I’m looking for somewhere to play over the holiday season.  Christmas music, specifically.”

“Why?”

“Practice,” he shrugged.  “I’m set to play some holiday parties, and I figured if I had to practice the songs anyway, others might as well get to hear it.”

The woman nodded, the wheels clearly turning; she hadn’t said no yet, which was the furthest he’d gotten with the other few spots he’d tried.  “And are you expecting compensation?”

“I was hoping to barter, honestly.  Coffee, maybe a sweet.  I don’t want- nor need- any financial compensation.  Just a space to practice with some human interaction – requests, possibly feedback on setlists, that sort of thing.”

“I can’t afford to pay you.  I mean, a hot beverage is reasonable, and a pastry I suppose, but I can’t pay you.”  Her lower lip had caught between her teeth, and it was a surprisingly distracting sight.

Pull yourself together.  You’ve almost got the spot.  Ian shook his head, both to clear it and in response to her words.  “I don’t need it,” he repeated.  “I’ve been in here before- you have a nice clientele, you’re always nicely decorated at the holiday season, and you have an unused dais.  I’d be happy to play for you now, if that’s a concern.”

“All right,” she agreed, perking up a bit.  “Play me something.”

With practiced ease he opened the guitar case, sliding his chair back slightly to give himself some room before settling the instrument across his lap.  Giving the strings an experimental strum to check the sound, he looked up at her.  “Any requests?”

“Winter Wonderland,” she challenged him, with a raised eyebrow.  “You sing, right?”

“Aye.”

Winter Wonderland.  Locating the music in his mind, he placed his fingers on the strings and began to play.

-

When Rose had first sat down at the table, she was just grateful to be sitting – though she’d been under no delusions of grandeur, running her own coffee shop/bakery required more time on her feet than she’d anticipated.

His proposal was interesting – who didn’t like live music? – but she was more intrigued by him.  He had a good decade on her, and sort of a college-professor-thinks-he’s-a-rocker vibe going on, but he was handsome, with ice-blue eyes and wild, graying hair.

And then he began to sing.

His Scottish lilt gave the classic new life, his soft voice infused with warmth and something alluring, something that caught her attention and held it, and by the time he reached the bit about Parson Brown, had said parson appeared in front of them and asked the same question, she might very well have agreed.

The spell broke when the song ended, and apparently, she wasn’t the only one he’d captivated; a round of applause broke out, and she glanced around to see most of the remaining customers were clapping.  At least half of them were semi-regulars, so she addressed them directly.  “What d’you think – should I let him play here?”

The resounding enthusiasm for that idea had her turn back to face the man, laughing.  “Well, it sounds like we have a deal.”  She extended her hand towards him to shake on it.  “I’m Rose.”

“Ian.”  He shook it, then turned their hands and kissed her knuckles, sending a shiver up her spine.

This is going to be interesting.

-

A week later, on the first of December, Ian arrived early at The Bad Wolf to get set up.  They’d agreed on no advertising for the first week to make sure it was a good fit, but based on Rose’s bright smile as he stepped inside, he had high hopes.

“Hello,” he greeted her warmly when he came closer, “all right if I get set up?”

“Please!  I set up everything as we discussed, but if you need anything moved or changed or whatever, just say the word.  I’ll bring you a cuppa once you’re ready.”

“Ta.”

Another customer came in, so he moved over the small dais, marveling at the decorations.  They were well-done, defining the space without taking up room he would need, making for a festive little corner.  Opposite him in the corner by the window sat a decently-sized tree, bare of any decoration but white fairy lights and candy canes.

He got set up quickly, and by the time he was tuning his guitar she’d appeared at his side with a steaming mug.

“Thank you,” he accepted it gratefully, breathing it in before taking a sip.  “Wonderful.”

She smiled, and impossibly it warmed him as much, if not more, than the cuppa had.  “Of course.  What’s on today’s setlist?”

“Now, that would be telling,” he teased, setting the mug down on the small stand he assumed was meant for the purpose, “but today’s theme is easy listening.  Background, rather than concert – I figured it might be better to ease into it, you know?  Take it slow, see how it goes?”

Rose nodded.  “Good idea, I don’t want to spook anyone.  So, play for forty-five, fifteen minute break?  Is that the plan?”

“Roughly speaking,” he agreed, smiling at her.  “Thank you, again, for the opportunity.”

“Thanks for the offer.  I…” her voice trailed off, and she glanced around before muttering, “to be perfectly honest, I really need this to drive traffic.  I don’t mean to put any pressure on you or anything but… I really need this to go well.”

Ian was equally touched that she confided in him, and concerned about the pressure.  “I’ll see what I can do,” was all he said, overly confident to try to make her smile.  “And I’m open to suggestions.”

Rose smiled at that, shaking her head.  A tuft of hair fell loose, and he was overcome with the urge to push it behind her ear, though he managed to resist.  “Thanks, but don’t worry about it – just play, and let the music and the magic of the holiday do the rest.”

A shout of her name from the counter drew both their attention, and she sighed.  “I’ve got to get back, and should let you start.  And if you want to put out a tip jar or something, that’s perfectly fine.”

And then she was off, weaving her way through the small shop to help with the line, and he watched her go.

-

The next two weeks followed in the same vein – and while he obviously had no metrics or sales data on the business, he did have eyes, and it was clear with every passing day more people were spending longer in the shop, to the point of leaning against walls because no seats were empty; by the midpoint of the second week a new girl was helping out behind the counter, they were so busy.

And he was having fun.  It had been so long since he’d had such free reign over his setlist, been able to experiment, and the customers seemed to lap it up – he played with rearrangements, taking requests, interacting with them and cracking jokes between songs.  He made sure to check in with Rose after every set, make sure she was happy with what was happening in her shop, but she always was, beaming if perpetually exhausted.

With every smile, every shared break, every lingering look shared across the café he fell for her, to the point of dreading the end of the holiday season, when Christmas music was no longer appropriate.

In all honesty, it took more effort to not tell her that, than it did to perform the two sets.  Especially after setlists she was particularly enthusiastic about.

“So, we didn’t talk end dates,” Rose said casually on the nineteenth, as she flopped across from him with a steaming mug for each of them.  “There’s only a week until Christmas, and we’re open everyday but the 25th, but you said this was practice for a gig, right?  Can I ask when that is?”

He took a long sip of his tea first, savoring the heat.  “Twenty second.”

“Oh.”  She deflated like a balloon, but tried to rally.  “I mean, that’s great.  Right?”

“I’ll be glad when it’s over – all the anxiety and anticipation for it.”  He watched her nod slowly, and offered tentatively, “of course, that’s not really the end of the Christmas season now, is it?  If you want, I’d be happy to play the 23rd and 24th.  The actual gig is in the evening so I can’t do the 22nd, but otherwise…”

“I’d love that!” she enthused, perking right up, then flushed.  “I mean, that’ll be great for business – you’ve been a big hit.  We’ve gotten quite a few reviews online mentioning you- your playing, I mean.  You could even- I mean, if you want- nevermind.”

“What?”

Rose licked her lips, and his eyes followed her tongue.  “It’s just an idea- probably a stupid one- but… the season doesn’t really end on the 25th, does it?  I know that’s the day, but it’s not like everything comes down then, not until just after New Years.  If you want.”

Come in here and serenade you for an extra five nights?  Sign me the fuck up.  “I could do that,” he nodded, “definitely.”

“Great!”

“Great.”

They shared a smile, his heart thumping away, and something in the way her eyes lingered made him say, “You know, you’ve been so great about having me here, and listening to me play, it almost seems a shame you’ll miss the actual performance.”

“That’s true!  I’ve invested a lot of time into this.  Let me know when and where, I’ll sneak in,” she joked.  “D’you need a roadie?”

“No, but I can bring a date.”

She abruptly stopped smiling, and his heart dropped.

“I mean- I don’t mean a date like a date date, but that I can bring a guest would be more accurate, and far less presumptive, and probably a terrible idea anyway so forget I said anything.  I have lots of stupid ideas, and it’s hard to keep shit from coming out.  Of my mouth.  And to stop talking when I really, really should.  Shit.  Sorry.”

“So… not a date, then.”

Ian shook his head.  “No.  Very emphatically, not a date.”  He looked around the café as if searching for a rescue, and caught the eye of a regular who was seated two tables away.  She was watching with a strange expression, and just shook her head at him, as if disappointed.

When he looked back at Rose, she was trailing a finger along the rim of her mug, and when she spoke, her voice was soft.  Vulnerable.  “That’s a shame.  It being a date would’ve made it more appealing.”

He blinked rapidly, baffled by her words; when he glanced at the regular again, she made a gesture like come on, already! so he offered tentatively, “I mean, it can be a date.  A date-date I mean.  If you want.  I… I’d like that.  If you did.  Or that’s what you mean.  Do you want it to be a date?”

“I like date-dates,” she smiled up at him from beneath her lashes.  “And live music.  And, well, you.  So, yeah, a date would be fine with me.  Be brilliant, actually?”

“It’s a date, then.”

He grinned uncontrollably, and she beamed back, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the regular do a fist pump.  Maybe I’m not as alone with these feelings as I thought.

-

Packing up his equipment, Ian let the breath he’d been holding escape.  The performance had gone well; the CEO of the company had been so happy he’d tipped an extra grand, and promised him the job again the following year.  Rose had seemingly had a good time; it was no surprise she was a social butterfly, and he’d spent more time watching her than his iPad with all his music on it.

“That was incredible,” she appeared in the door, enthusiasm contagious.  “You were so good!  I really liked the way you did Winter Wonderland, by the way – so soft and romantic.  I don’t think anyone’s ever slow danced to that before.  Everyone I talked to loved the music – even before they knew I was here with you!”  She picked up the last case as if it were natural, following him out into the hallway and out the side exit.  “Did you have fun?”

“It’s such a relief that it’s over,” he agreed, “but yeah, I enjoyed it.  I like when they give me such leeway; some gigs can be very specific, it’s like if you want it just so, burn a CD and a call it a day, don’t waste time and talent for that.”  Loading everything into his boot he closed it and turned to her, momentarily stunned at her beauty in the moonlight.

“I couldn’t tell you the last time I enjoyed live music so much!  Other than every day at the café, of course.  You make it look so effortless!”  Her eyes were shining, breath visible puffs, and he couldn’t help himself.

Stepping forward he cupped her cheek, leaning in until they were almost touching.  “Is this okay?”

Her answer was to grab his lapels and pull him the last few inches, fusing their mouths together.  She tasted like peppermint and chocolate, and her tongue sliding against his sent shivers down his spine that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature.  Her arms went around his neck, his around her waist, and time ceased to exist as they melded and parted, repeating the cycle over and over until they were both panting.

“Ian?”

“Yeah?”  He rolled his hips against hers, pushing her hair out of the way to kiss her neck.

“D’you wanna make me pancakes in the morning?”

Excitement fluttered in her chest.  “Yes, a few times – why?  How?  Where?”

Ian sat back on his heels and she sat up as well, putting her hands on his sides beneath his sleep shirt.  Getting to touch him was still a novelty, and she took full advantage of it whenever they were alone.

“Fuck, your hands are cold.  So, when we were kids, as a surprise once it was consistently cold enough, our grandfather would have an ice rink built – they did one in town as well, open to the public, but he’d have one made just for us out on the patio.  It’s been easily twenty-five years since the last one, so we weren’t sure it would go as well, but they’ve been working on it all week and it’s now sufficiently frozen!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and she beamed back at him.  “Does this rink have an age limit?”

“No, but it does have a seniority minimum,” he joked.  “Senior royals only.  Not sure you make the cut, but you may be able to bribe your way in.”

“Well, whoever I have to do,” Rose teased back, sliding her hands around to his stomach and toying with his waistband.

“I think you mean whatever you have to do.”

She fell back against the mattress, and he didn’t hesitate to cover her, stealing kisses she gave willingly.  “No, I’m pretty sure I said it right.”

-

“Oh, wow.”  Rose stepped outside first, and was immediately blown away by the scale of the project.  “When you said rink I thought, you know, a few feet by a few feet, but this…”

About two meters from the door out and along the side of the patio was still flagstones with rubber runners, while benches lining the wall.  Otherwise, the rink sprawled out in every direction.

“This looks Olympic-sized.”

“It is.”  Ian was positively giddy, bouncing on his toes and leading her towards the first set of benches.  “Here, sit, sit.”  The wall of the rink was a meter high, and along it were cubbyholes containing at least two dozen pairs of skates, some white, some black.  He returned quickly with a few pairs, all but one white.  “D’you know your size?”

She told him, then watched in amazement as he removed her boots and slid the skates on for her, tightening them along the way.  His fingers were deft and sure, making quick work of the job.

“Right, stand up.”

It took a few attempts and a lot of giggles, plus a few kisses, to get her balanced on the skates and able to stand upright on her own.

“Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, sitting back down while he got his own skates on.  “Why’re yours different?”

“They’re hockey skates, yours are figure skates.  Yours have a leather boot instead of plastic, so it’s more flexible, and a toe pick.  Mine are designed for more speed and agility.  You can try hockey skates next time if you want, but I know Donna and Sarah prefer the figure skates.  They allow for more graceful movement.”

Satisfied with his laces he stood, helping Rose up before guiding her to the opening in the wall.  “Ready?”

“No,” she said, but stepped out anyway, unsure of her footing.  “I should mention, it’s been a long time since I’ve been skating.”

“Me too.  That’s why we’re out here now; the twins will see it tomorrow, and I don’t want them to show me up.”  Despite his modesty he immediately took off, and it was all Rose could do to cling to the wall and wobble along, watching in jealousy as he flew around the ice, pivoting on a dime.  He made it look effortless, and sexy, and when he skidded to a stop in front of her, shaving the ice with a cocky smile, she wanted to jump him.

“D’you trust me?”

“Why?”  She put her hands in his anyway, then shrieked as he started skating backwards, towing her along with him.  “Oh, God!”

“I got you,” Ian promised, “you’re doing so well.”

The fun of it was slow to overtake the fear.  “This is fine, I’m fine.”

He just laughed at her, and they must have made a dozen laps around before she started to relax, eventually putting some effort in instead of just being pulled.  “That’s it!”

“You’re much better than I expected,” she said, once they transitioned to gliding next to each other around the perimeter at her speed.  “You’re actually really good.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Ian smirked, bumping her hip and almost making her fall over; the bastard had the audacity to laugh as she windmilled her arms, trying to stay upright.  “Words every man wants to hear from his wife: ‘actually, you’re okay’.  Warms my heart, I tell you.”

Regaining her balance Rose pouted, dramatically sticking out her lower lip.  “Maybe you don’t take your vows to me seriously, but I’d think you’d respect the one that says ‘do no harm’!”

He dropped back abruptly, and she couldn’t turn fast enough without falling over to see what he was doing before he was right behind her, his feet between hers.  “Be a good wife and keep your knees apart,” he murmured in her ear, hands firm on her waist as he skated faster, pushing her along.  “Let me do all the work for a bit.”

She relaxed back into him, letting him push her around for a bit, enjoying his chest at her back and his arms around her waist, holding her up and against him.  It’s almost unfair, how easily he gets me hot and bothered!

“Your Majesties,” Sarah Jane called from the rink side.  “Sorry to disturb, but you’ve got appointments to keep!”

“D’you want to do this again later?” he asked as he brought them to the exit and helped her off the rink.  “In all seriousness, did you like?”

Rose stepped carefully towards the bench and sat down before smiling at him, as he knelt to untie her skates.  “I loved it, and yes, we can do it again later.  I’m gonna need a lot of practice if I’m going show up cool Uncle Ian.”

“Ha!  I’d love to see you try.”

-

Taking advantage of having a few minutes alone on the ice, Rose practiced skating away from the wall; it didn’t feel as jerky as it had the day before with Ian, a little more natural, and she was confident that by the time winter was over and the rink would melt she’d be skating like a pro.  Or at least not completely embarrassing myself.  Then again, it was pretty nice to have Ian so close.

Shrieking startled her so badly she almost lost her balance, but with minimal windmilling managed to keep her feet under her.  A glance towards the door showed that the children had seen the surprise, and she was just in time to see Sophia throw herself at Ian.  Smiling at the scene Rose made her way across the ice to them, climbing off just as the twins starting pulling on their skates, with Ian and Lee’s help.

“So what do you think of the rink?” she asked them, and three faces (the twins and Ian’s) shot around to beam at her.

“Hi Auntie Rose!” Sophia said brightly.  “Isn’t this cool?”

“It really is!  It’s so cold,” Rose deliberately misunderstood, pretending to shiver.  “Are you going to be warm enough?”

The girl burst into giggles.  “No, isn’t it neat?”

“I dunno, Soph, Uncle Ian’s really been practicing hard out here to impress you, there’s skate marks everywhere!  We’d need a Zamboni to make it neat again.”

This time both kids laughed, and only laughed harder at Ian’s indignant, “Hey!”

Rose crouched down next to Sebastian, who was looking at the ice with far more trepidation than his sister.  “What d’you think, Seb?  Will this be fun?”

He looked at his father, who finished tying his laces and gave him a reassuring pat, looked at the ice, then back to Rose, answering with an unconvincing “uh huh.”

“You know, I was pretty scared of it when Uncle Ian took me out there yesterday,” she confided, “but he didn’t let anything happen to me and we ended up having a lot of fun.  Maybe he’ll pull you around if you want.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, reluctantly smiling.  “Were you really scared?”

“So scared!  But if you can be brave and have some fun out there, so can I.  What’d’ya say?”

With a little more confidence, Sebastian bobbed his head.  “I’ll hold your hand if you get too scared, Aunt Rose.”

They watched together as, skates on, Sophia took off for the ice, Ian right behind her.

“G-go have f-fun, bud,” Lee said, standing back and helping him to his feet.  “You’ll enj-joy it.”

“I can be brave,” Sebastian said, almost to himself.  “Come on Aunt Rose, I’ll help you.”

Rose accepted his hand, letting him lead her to the ice; despite his trepidation he only wobbled for a minute, sticking to the side, before a desire to join the fun his sister and uncle were having in the middle as they chased each other outweighed his nervousness, and he skated over to join the game.

Rose stayed at the gate, watching with fondness as they played.  Lee was putting on his own skates, and when Donna joined her at the edge, said, “He’s so good with them.”

“He really is,” her sister-in-law agreed fondly.  “It’s why I never listened to his protests about being a bachelor.  He’ll be a great dad.”

“Someday,” Rose added, turning and giving her a look.  “Not in the near future.”

“You two are killing me.  Doesn’t watching that make you broody?”

They’d started a new game which mostly seemed to be chase Ian, and it wasn’t clear who was enjoying it more – the chasers, or the chasee.  “Good things come to those who wait, Donna.  You’ll get your fun as aunt and uncle soon enough – we’re happy enjoying that ourselves for now.”

Sophia turned then, and spotting them by the gate, put her hands on her little hips.  “Oi!  Quit gabbing and come have fun!” she ordered, and Rose had to laugh at how she was a carbon copy of the woman next to her.

“Besides,” she pushed off, speaking over her shoulder, “I’m not sure anyone’s ready for another me or Ian just yet, if Soph’s anything to go by!”

Joining her family in the middle, she listened intently as the twins spoke over each other, each eager to be the one to share the nonsensical rules of the game.  Meeting Ian’s eye they shared a bright smile before he returned to listening intently to the children, and her heart warmed.

He will be such a good dad.  Someday!

“That’s odd.”  Rose frowned, biting her lip as she thought.  “Gosh, I’m not in trouble for anything, am I?”

“I doubt it,” Jo dismissed out of hand.  “It’s the first of December – if I know him, you’ll be drowning in tinsel the moment you walk through the door.  Decorating the Palace may be your responsibility, but he’ll handle your suite.  Just you wait and see.  I’m sure it’s fine.”

Rose chewed on that the rest of the drive back, hoping the other woman was right – not that she really doubted her, as she hadn’t been steered wrong yet, but a not-so-small part of her heart was convinced any moment they’d decide she wasn’t learning quickly enough, or performing well enough as Queen, and send her home with only the things she’d arrived with.

The Palace was bustling as they pulled up, the grounds crew decorating for the holiday season and transforming the normally-magical (to Rose) Palace into a winter wonderland.  Fresh garland was being hung over every doorway and window frame on every level, complete with red, gold, and silver ornaments nestled amongst the sprigs.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose breathed as they entered, making Jo laugh. The page stationed just inside the door took her coat, and she headed up the stairs towards their suite of rooms making mental notes on the needed decorations; work hadn’t started indoors quite yet, as she was still pouring over pictures of previous years to get an idea of how it should look.

At the top of the stairs Jo peeled off towards her own office, and Rose traversed the last few meters to her door alone.  Smiling at the guard who let her through, she was nearly overpowered by the scent of fir.  Coughing slightly, she followed her nose to the end of the hall where their bedroom door was cracked open; pushing inside, she found her husband watching with his arms crossed as two teenaged pages wrapped lights around a tree.

Not just a tree- a gigantic tree.  A good three or four meters high it stretched towards the ceiling, so straight she was certain supports were in use.  It was terribly wide, though their bedroom was so large in and of itself that it felt perfectly at size.  Blimey.  Row after row of unlit lights wound from the top down, the sweaty pages finishing the last of it with relieved sighs.

“Right, let’s light her up, see how it looks,” Ian said.

One page went around the back towards the outlet while the other turned to face Ian; catching sight of Rose, his eyes widened, and he bowed to her. “Your Majesty.”

“Hi, Sam,” Rose said faintly, stepping up to Ian’s side. “Hey, you.  What on Earth is this?”

“It’s our Christmas tree,” her husband grinned, kissing her hello. “Don’t worry, we’ll be decorating it together, but I’ve learned that there can be certain perks to this job, and getting someone else to do the bits I can’t stand is part of that.  In this case, stringing lights on a tree.”

“Happy to do so, Sir,” Sam assured him as the lights flicked on, Josh stepping out from behind the tree and bowing to her as well.  “What do you think?”

Arm in arm Rose and Ian stared at the tree; knowing he was probably examining it from a practical viewpoint, she just took in the beauty and the wonder – she’d never had a Christmas tree in her bedroom before, and certainly not with half a dozen others expected to be sprinkled throughout the house.  Not that the 170-room palace she now called home counted as a house.  Is this really my life?

“Rose?  What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” she said firmly.  “Just as it is.  Thank you, Sam, and Josh.  Lovely job.”

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was both young men bowed, murmured, “Your Majesty”, and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving Rose and Ian alone.

“Hello again,” he greeted her, turning to face her and wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her close.  “How’d it go at the school?”

She reached up to kiss him, just because she could, before leading him over to their sofa and curling up next to each other as she gushed. “Oh, it was wonderful!  They were all so bright, and kind.  I read the story, answered a few questions and asked some of my own, and they sang a Christmas carol – “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, if you must know.  It couldn’t have gone better.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”  His eyes crinkled, as he kissed her knuckles.  “I was hoping it would.  I know how important it is to you.”

Rose just smiled, glancing back over her shoulder towards the tree now dominating their living space.  “Thanks. What’s the plan here, then?”

“When you’re ready, I thought we’d decorate it together.  More of a homemade style, if you’re interested. Everything out there,” he gestured towards the doors, “will be prim and polished and befitting a royal Palace, but in here, I want it to be just a normal married couple celebrating their first Christmas together.”

“Normal, right,” she teased, elbowing him.  “In our one hundred-plus square meter bedroom, with five-meter high ceilings and an army of staff.  Not to mention real, actual, literal crown jewels.  Not just a euphemism!”

Ian rolled his eyes in a good-natured way.  “Decorations are over there, if you want to start.”

“Mhmm, not quite yet.  Tell me about the tree – where did you find it?”

“Find it?”  His tone was somewhat bewildered.  “Didn’t anyone tell you- clearly not.  No, I own some acreage in Germany, all of which is forest.  Clearly we’ve had it zoned for cutting down Christmas trees, and it supplies the Palace and Arcadia’s Town Square with trees every year – sustainably, of course.”

Jaw dropping slightly, Rose wondered if it would ever cease to amaze her at how casually he could mention property and possessions – the land in France, where the family vineyard and winery stood, financing some of their royal lifestyle; a ski chalet in the Swiss Alps just over the border from Gallifrey; a “cottage” on Lake Como; and now this.  “How international of you,” she managed, making him laugh.

“It’s a royalty thing,” Ian grinned.  “Pretty much everything’s been in the family for centuries, at this point – especially land.  Most of it’s dowries from various queens marrying in, back when Europe was littered with royal families.  I think the most recent addition was the purchase of a flat in Paris in the Twenties. My great-grandmother was from Lyon, and met my great-grandfather by happenstance at the vineyard.  As a wedding present he got her the flat, and they’d go up for weeks at a time.”  He coughed. “It wasn’t the best investment in hindsight, but it’s still there and ours, though I don’t think anyone’s been since my parents honeymooned there.  But we can visit at some point, if you like.”

“Not if it’s a problem, but yeah, I’d love that.”  A glance at the tree refocused her.  “Tell me more about the trees, though.”

“The parcel of land came into the family as part of a dowry, as I said, of a Württemberg princess, back when the area was a Duchy in the Holy Roman Empire.  Over time, parts were sold off until just a dozen or so acres remained.  The team that manages the site has been doing so for, oh, two hundred years, so they have it down to a science.  Any excess trees that would be too big after another year of growth are sold – mostly to local governments or other high-ceilinged buildings.  It’s not necessarily a moneymaker, but the sales bring in enough to keep everything operating, which is honestly all I care about.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Rose said truthfully.  “Have you ever been up to see it?”

His brows furrowed in thought.  “As a child, but not recently.  I think Donna took the twins up two years ago to pick one out for Lungbarrow House.  If you like, we can go up next year.”

“I’d like that.”

They fell silent then, admiring the lights strung on the tree. It was nearly hypnotizing, Ian’s steady heartbeat beneath her ear, his warm arms around her, the twinkling lights blinking in and out, all of it working together to lull her to sleep.

And when she slept, she dreamed of wandering through a forest, Ian’s hand in hers, a small child running ahead shrieking with joy.

-

It wasn’t until after dinner they had the opportunity to actually decorate.  While Ian started an instrumental Christmas playlist, Rose opened the first storage container full of decorations – and froze.

“Surprise.”  Her husband’s chuckle behind her made Rose spin, eyes wide.

“You- My- How?”  Speechless, she gestured to the tub, full of her childhood ornaments.

Looking inordinately pleased with himself, he reached in and pulled out the top ornament- clearly school-made, it featured a four-year-old Rose and a toothy grin.  “I called your mum a few weeks ago, and asked her if she had any ornaments you might want put on our tree.  She shipped them out, and they arrived yesterday.  Plus, we brought everything you had in your flat- it’s all combined in this container.”  His smile faltered.  “I hope that’s all right- that I didn’t overstep.  I was very clear I was only asking for things she didn’t mind parting with.”

Overwhelmed, Rose threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”  His arms went easily around her waist.  “This is your home now, and I want it to feel that way.  Over time we’ll build up our own supply of sentimental ornaments, but our individual childhood ones seemed a good start.”

“It is.  I also want to set our own traditions, though.  But you better have similar ones – I don’t want my baby pictures to be the only ones on there!”

Ian laughed.  “They won’t be,” he reassured her.  “I have plenty handmade, awkward picture ornaments as well, and they’re sitting in that box there,” he pointed to the one beneath her own.  “Now, shall we start?”  He handed over the one he’d originally picked up.  “I confess to having rifled through them somewhat, and this was one of my favorites.  I think it should be first on the tree- would you like the honors?”

“Together.”

Hand in hand they stepped up the tree, and by mutual, silent agreement, slid it onto a branch front and center.

“Perfect.”

When they’d gone to bed the night before the sky had been clear, with trees as far as the eye could see, the Alps rising majestically in the distance.  When the leaves had started falling a month before, Rose had understood for the first time how drastically the elevation could change in her new home; for quite a ways into the distance the trees were bare, their leaves having changed and fallen, but behind them were evergreens, sloping up the side of the Alps until they stopped abruptly; past that point was nothing but whiteness climbing towards the sky.

Now, though- now, the sky was full of clouds, and the grounds looked like a winter wonderland. Everything was covered in snow, bright and cheerful despite the grey sky, and even as she watched, the flakes continued to fall.

It was spectacular, almost out of a movie, and she was surprised at the tears pricking her eyes. “You live like this?” she breathed in awe.  “Is this normal?”

The breath of Ian’s laugh was hot against her neck.  “Sometimes. More so in years past…  Definitely when I was a kid.  Used to be able to ice skate on the lake, even.  But d’you know what the best part of this is?”

“Oooh, snowball fight? Please say snowball fight!”

“No- I mean, sure, we can do that- but actually, until it stops and they’ve had time to start the cleanup, we’re stuck here.”

That was enough to tear Rose’s gaze from the window, and she twisted around to face him.  “We’re snowed in?”

He nodded, pushing some loose hair out of her face.  “For the time being.  No engagements with our public today, I’m afraid.  And since that was our whole schedule…”  One of his knees nudged at her own, and she obligingly lifted her top leg to let his slide between.  “Our day is wide open.  How would you like to spend it?”

“Honestly?”  When he nodded, she glanced back over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen so much snow in one place at one time.  I’d love to just… go out and play in it.  Snow angels, snowball fights…  You know, like you see in films.  Bet Sophia and Sebastian would like that- they’re still young enough I think.”

“That sounds like fun,” he agreed, smiling.  “When, now?”

Rose rolled onto her back, looking first towards the window and the picture-perfect snow, then to her husband, warm and naked beside her.  “Depends,” she said coyly.  “Is it better to sort of pre-warm up before we go out, or to wait until we come back in?”

“Hmmm…”  Ian settled himself above her, so close they were almost touching, but far enough away to mostly be a tease.  “Well, in my professional opinion as a doctor-” he paused to suck at her pulse point, “I would recommend both.  Some pre-activity to… get the blood flowing as it were, then once you’re back inside, a hot shower, maybe a soak in a steaming tub…”

“Is that so?” she drawled, letting her legs fall apart before tugging on his hips, encouraging him to lay flush against her.  “And would you recommend these as solo activities?”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but he hid it by kissing his way across her decolletage to the other side of her neck.  “Oh, no. It’s very important to always have a buddy with you,” he said earnestly.  “Someone to keep an eye on you… check for hypothermia, that sort of thing.”

Rose nodded, scraping her nails lightly along his spine, smirking when his hips jumped.  “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

He dipped his head, kissing her deeply, and she arched up against him in response.  Even after six months together she still got the same giddy feeling in her stomach, heart soaring at the merest taste of him, her very universe narrowing down to where they touched, the rest of the world be damned. It didn’t hurt knowing that he was equally affected by her, the evidence hot and throbbing against her thigh.

Yet the picture-perfect scene playing out on the other side of the glass called to her too, and though she tried to hide it, her husband knew her well enough at this point to sense her distraction.  To his credit, though, he was chuckling as he pulled back.

“Do you want to stop to watch the window?”

Biting her lip, Rose gave him a sheepish smile.  “No, I want you…”  She ran her hands down his back to his arse, squeezing for emphasis.  “But, maybe a change of position?  D’you mind?”

“Of course not.”  He backed away, sitting on his heels.  “And we don’t have to- I promise I’m just as happy holding you and watching the snow fall.”

Sitting up herself, she took a moment to look around before nodding decisively.  “Right.”  Nudging him out of the way, she positioned herself on her hands and knees in front of the window, before glancing back at him over her shoulder.  “Does this work?”

Ian was already slotting himself between her knees, one hand rubbing at her hip and thigh as the other brushed against her slit.  “Uh huh.” He met her eye as one long finger probed her opening.  “You’re supposed to be watching the snow.”

“Git.”  Facing forward again, she marveled at how the storm seemed to be picking up.  “I’m going to remember this.”

By the time they collapsed in a sweaty, sated pile, the view was a whiteout and second to the heat between them.

-

“This is absurd.”

Hands on his hips, Ian stared out the ballroom doors to the patio incredulously – or attempted to, given that their view consisted solely of snow.  Heavy, packed snow that covered the doors so thoroughly he wasn’t sure anything truly existed past them.

“It seems to be a snow drift, Your Majesties,” Jabe shrugged.  The manager of the grounds, it would be her team’s job to clear the snow, and he made a mental note to ensure they all got fat bonuses in their next check. “It’s not nearly so bad along the sides of the Palace, or necessarily the front, but it may take several days to clear the lakefront side or the drive.  In these conditions, we cannot even begin until it stops, and though it has slowed, we do not want to be caught out in it if it increases again. As it is, we will need to dig our way from the sides.”

“We’re really snowed in,” Rose breathed.  “I mean, this is…  Wow.”

Their hands tangled together, and even as Ian worried for his subjects, her childlike wonder warmed his heart more than he could say.  “The Queen would like to go out in it for a bit.  How do you recommend we do so?”

“Over my dead body, to start.”

He turned to see his aunt striding towards them, bundled in a thick jumper, eyes narrowed in their direction.

“I’m afraid she’s correct,” Jabe said, apologetic.  “At least, in her implication – it’s simply too dangerous at this time.  Several of my braver groundskeepers attempted to go out the front, and suffice it to say it did not go well.  The worst injury was a sprained wrist, and several bruised prides, but it was enough.  We cannot risk Your Majesties’ health or safety.”

“What about- and maybe this is stupid, I don’t have much experience with heavy snow- but like… climbing out a first-floor window?  It wouldn’t be too far down…” Rose trailed off as they stared at her.  “Never mind, just a thought.”

Ian smiled kindly at his wife.  “Perhaps if we were twenty, but I think we- or at least I- am too old for that.  And there’s no way of knowing how far you might sink into the drift.  I don’t want to have to call your mother and explain you drowned in snow.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed easily, squeezing his hand.  “Though, personally, I’d be more afraid of Donna.”

He shivered dramatically at the idea, making her giggle.  “Ooh, don’t make me think about it.  Very well, we surrender to our house arrest.  Is there any support we can offer to Arcadia, or the rest of the country?”

“No, not now.”  Sarah shook her head.  “When I saw the storm start last night I reached out to the Roadworks Department, but they were on top of the situation.  We’ll likely need to cut them a check for overtime as they certainly hadn’t budgeted for all this, expecially not as a one-time dumping at the start of the season, but that was all the support they need- at least for now.  The worst of it is here, along the lake- once you get a kilometer or so inland it’s not nearly so heavy.”

“That’s good,” Ian and Rose said in unison, before grinning at each other.

“Have you spoken to Donna?” he continued.  “I suppose this means they’ll need to extend their trip.”

Sarah nodded.  “She’s heartbroken at the delay of course,” she said dryly, “but will soldier through.  The children are thrilled to have another few days with their grandparents.”

Rose tensed next to him, but other than shooting her a curious look, he ignored it for the moment. “All right, I’ll give her a call in a bit.  Thanks for the update.  We’ll be up in our suite.  A hearty soup or stew is sufficient for dinner tonight, I think- something simple. I don’t see a need for anything non-essential to be done today, but I’ll leave it to your discretion.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The women curtseyed as Ian turned to leave, tugging Rose along with him.

They walked in silence until they reached their bedroom, where he helped her out of her warm outerwear they’d optimistically put on.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  Rose sank onto their couch, curling up in the corner and staring blankly at the fireplace.  “I’m fine.”

Biting back a sigh, he settled next to her, careful not to touch her.  “Rose.”

“I just… realized something I hadn’t thought about before.  It’s no biggie.”

“If you’re sure.”  He didn’t believe her, but didn’t want to push, knowing she would come to him when she was ready.  “Want another log on the fire?”

She didn’t answer but he did it anyway, enjoying the burst of sparks as the new log caught and started to burn.  She didn’t say anything when he draped the throw from the back of the couch over their laps, and she still didn’t speak as they watched the fire crackle and occasionally leap.

“My mum’s the only grandparent our children will know.”

He started at the sound of her voice, having been nearly hypnotized by the silence and the flames, and turned to look at her.  “Yes, she is,” he agreed cautiously.  “And I have no intention of trying to keep her from them, if that’s where this is going.”

“No, I know that, it’s just… I guess, I always thought I’d marry something with parents- someone who could give my kids a grandfather, someone who could… could almost be a father to me.  I say always, but it’s only really in the last decade or so once I got off the estate, but still.”

“I had a similar epiphany when my father died,” he shared tentatively.  “In amongst all the things I’d officially lost- never really had, I suppose- like my career and my freedom, I realized that… because I’d been concerned with my own wants, I missed out on the opportunity for my future wife and children to know my parents, and for them to know, well, you.  And our children.  To make them proud.  They were proud of my career, that I was helping people even if it wasn’t in the way they wanted- they thought I should have spent time learning how to rule at my father’s side- but… they wanted me to settle down, have a family.  I’m sorry they didn’t get the chance to see that, though I suppose if they had it wouldn’t have been with you, and that I cannot regret.  My point being- I know how you feel.”

Rose shifted on the couch, moving curl into his side.  “The real problem with all of this,” she sighed as she rested her head against his shoulder, “is that she’ll feel the need to make up for being the only one, and spoil our kids absolutely rotten.  I mean, at least your parents had Donna and knew the twins, but I’m all Mum’s got, so our family will be the sole focus of her grandmotherly love.”

He couldn’t help but smile stupidly at the idea.  “That’s all right, I suppose.  We’ll just have to have many children, to spread out the attention.”

Rose took his hand, lacing their fingers together.  “Depending on your definition of ‘many’, I agree.  But for now…”

“Yes?”  He watched her stand, taking a moment to admire her; the glow of the fire behind her made her seem ethereal, like some sort of goddess too good for the world blessing him with her presence.

She tugged on their joined hands, smiling coyly.  “I could use some warming up.  And this doctor I know says that body heat transmitted bare skin to bare skin is the most efficient way.”

His reservation was his annual meetup with Clara at a local paint-your-own-pottery place; for at least as long as Rose had known them they’d go together in early December to paint an ornament for their tree, the theme being to commemorate the year. Rose had been making their reservations since she started working for Malcolm, had heard thousands of stories about their experiences, and this year had been no different.  Except, perhaps naively, she’d expected (well, hoped) to be invited along, now that she and Malcolm were married.  Danny’s never gone, she reminded herself once again, thinking of her best friend’s long-term boyfriend.  It’s their father-daughter tradition.

That didn’t make it ache any less.

Her mobile chirped, a message from Graham saying that he was there, and she swiped at her cheeks before turning around and knocking on the glass wall; Malcolm gave her a thumbs up in response, and a minute later, appeared in front of her desk shrugging into his coat.  “Ready?”

“Graham’s downstairs,” she confirmed, offering him a small but genuine smile.  “Have fun.”

Malcolm merely blinked at her, continuing to stand there as if waiting for something while she busied herself with straightening a stack of papers.  When he didn’t move, she bit back a sigh and looked up.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”  His brow furrowed, and he checked his watch.  “You’re cute, but c’mon- we ought to be leaving.”

It was Rose’s turn to blink. “What d’you mean?”

Malcolm’s head tilted, expression going from confused, to surprised, to soft.  “Sweetheart, you’re coming too.  You did include yourself in the reservation, didn’t you?”

Oh, thank God. Relief quickly melted to annoyance. “Of course not,” she scowled at him. “Why would I?  You didn’t say!”

“I didn’t realize I needed to!”  He chuckled, dropping his backpack in favor of coming around her desk to crouch in front of her, putting them on the same eye level.  “Rose, my love, of course you should join us.  It’s your home, and your tree as well.  And quite frankly, we just want you to be there.  Clara suggested having you join us a few years ago, but… to be honest, it felt a little too much like trying to play happy families when you don’t love me as I do you, or so I believed at the time. I’m sorry I didn’t specify you were included, because it didn’t even occur to me to do so – I want you with me at every moment.”

Rose sniffled, tears returning for a different reason.  “Don’t do that,” she thumped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Don’t say such wonderful things to me with no warning.”

“I’m going to say wonderful things to you whenever I feel like it,” he countered, grinning, using his thumb to wipe her cheek.  “Now, can we go?”

-

Despite Malcolm’s kind reassurances, she was still nervous walking up to the pottery place, clinging to him more than usual.  Clara was already inside looking over the options, though she must have sensed their presence because she glanced towards the door just as they walked in.  Face lighting up, she hurried over to them.

“Hey, you two,” Clara greeted them warmly, pecking her father’s cheek before hugging Rose. “Hope you’re ready, because I’ve got a brilliant design already planned, and it’s going to be so much better than yours.”

“Hi,” Rose smiled in return, before turning to the hostess.  “Tucker?  Erm, party of three, but the reservation was only for two.  I hope that’s not an issue?”

The hostess, Karen, shook her head.  “Not at all – you picked a good day, we’re quiet so far.  With me, please.”

She guided them to a small table-top as Clara frowned.  “Why was the reservation for two?”  Her expression turned uncertain.  “Sorry, this wasn’t just for the two of you, was it?  I mean, you added it to my calendar-”

“No, no,” Malcolm said smoothly as they settled, “just a misunderstanding between us – all fixed now.” He turned his attention to Rose, raising an eyebrow.  “See?”

Rose’s cheeks heated, and she bit her lip before admitting to Clara, “I didn’t realize I would be invited.”

“Of course you are.” Clara looked bewildered.  “You’re a Tucker now.”

“Yeah, but… you don’t invite Danny.”

They stood up then, wandering towards the wall of potential projects, the two women falling into step as Malcolm went in a different direction.

“Maybe once we’re married, but it’s more to do about celebrating the holiday – he’s not there on Christmas morning, so he doesn’t get an ornament.  We decided years ago, once I started dating, on that rule.  Now technically I won’t be there Christmas morning, as I’ll be with Danny, but we’re actually booked to come next week just the two of us, sort of start the tradition for ourselves now that we live together.  I told Dad to make it clear you were invited now, and he said he would, but… he’s an idiot.  You could’ve just asked.”

Rose picked up a wreath ornament, confiding to it, “I didn’t want to barge my way in.  I know how special your relationship with him is, and by being your best friend and his wife and his PA, it feels like I’m always a part of what you two get up to nowadays- and did even before that, honestly- and I just… don’t want to overstep.  Or push my way in.  You deserve time just the two of you, too.”

Clara was silent as they moved down the line, and when she finally spoke, her tone was hurt.  “Are you getting tired of me?”

“What?  No!”  Rose spun to face her, surprise written on her face.  “Of course not, you’re my best friend!  I was worried you were getting sick of me!  That- that- that maybe you might start to resent that I’m always there when you see your dad!  I’m at your house, I’m at his office…  Your relationship with him is so important to both of you, and to me!  I just… I don’t know how to balance this, yet. I guess.”  She turned away, ostensibly focusing on a snowman.

“Hey.”  Clara tugged on her sleeve, forcing her back.  “You’re my best friend too.  And, yeah, it’s a bit weird, you being with my dad, but… that’s my problem.  Well, not problem, but… I know how happy you make each other.  I supported this before you were together, remember?  So as long as I don’t see anything, and we can all agree that any future siblings I have from you arrive via stork or immaculate conception, then it’s all good.  You’re not a third wheel with us; you’re our third Musketeer.  You two are my two favorite people on the planet- don’t tell Danny- and getting to spend so much time with both of you is just… mind-blowingly awesome.  You are not only welcome, you’re required.  Got it?”

“Got it.”  Rose nodded, and Clara opened her arms wide.

They were still hugging when Malcolm appeared at their side.  “Hate to break up the love fest, but can we get a move on?” he asked, impatience deepening his Scottish burr.  “I’ve got a competition to win.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to win,” Clara said confidently, pulling away from Rose with a grin. “Bring it.”

Rose just rolled her eyes, following them back to the table.

What have I gotten myself into?  Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.

-

A week later she let herself into the town house, already shaking her head at the squabbling drifting towards her from the parlor.  Hanging her coat up she followed the noise, finding Malcolm and Clara standing in front of the fireplace, each holding a stocking and stocking holder.

“Should I come back?”

“Tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Clara ordered, not even glancing her way.  “You agree with me, right?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Malcolm protested, “she’s my wife!  She agrees with me!”

Rose just sighed fondly, setting the box with their fired ceramic ornaments on the coffee table and moving closer.  “Now now, children, one at a time.  What’s the issue?”

“Dad wants to hang the stockings up left to right by age,” Clara said with disgust.  “D’you believe this?  That would be him, Danny, you, then me.”

Rose wrinkled her nose at that.  “Eh. And you?”

“Alphabetical.  Me, Danny, Dad, you.  That way the couples are together.”

She pursed her lips, considering the idea.  “And all four of us are getting stockings?”

Two nods.

“At least you can agree on that,” she teased.  “How about Malcolm, me, you, then Danny?  Couples together, women on the inside, men on the outside?  Does it really matter, anyway?  What did you do last year?”

“This is the first Christmas with partners,” Malcolm explained.  “Or without Wallace.  He was always on the left- said it was his right as the owner- I was on the right, and Clara in the middle.  I suppose it’s possible we were getting carried away.”

Clara nodded.  “I can agree to that compromise.  Fair enough, I suppose.”

Malcolm shrugged one shoulder.  “As you wish, darling.”

“Great.  Now, I’m almost afraid to ask- is there a specific tradition involving the new ornaments I should know about?”  Rose eyed the large crate that sat innocently on the floor, appearing to be full of similar quasi-homemade decorations from Christmases past.  Considering how competitive they could be, she suspected plenty of complex rules in her immediate future.

Ever the teacher, Clara launched into a detail explanation, moving towards the crate as Rose caught Malcolm’s eye. He grinned in return, eyes twinkling, before turning to hang the stockings.  Stepping out of her heels and resigning herself to the madness she’d married into, Rose padded towards her friend, listening intently.  This was her chosen family, had been for so long really, that it was an absolute delight to join their kooky traditions.

Oh, no.  Her heart dropped to her stomach, the previous decade vanishing and returning her to the stupid, prideful eighteen-year-old she’d been, so desperate to prove her mother (and Mickey) wrong that she’d put up with Jimmy Stone’s lying and cheating for longer than she cared to remember. No, no, no…

She stood frozen in the hallway, unable to make a decision – confront him, or run away?  I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, her optimistic side encouraged, but the sinking feeling in her gut disagreed.  We’ve been here before, and it never ended well.

But Ian’s not Jimmy or Mickey, the optimism countered.  Ian is different – Ian is better.  That’s why we’re married.

Decision made, Rose took a deep breath for courage before moving forward, pushing the door open. She gave it more force than necessary, but didn’t wince as it banged against the wall, too focused on Ian’s guilty expression.  He was alone in the room, his laptop newly shut in front of him, and her stomach turned as he just stared at her.

“I heard laughter,” she said stiffly, fighting back the urge to start accusing, or shrieking – neither would help her now, not with him.  Not that they’d ever worked before.  “Meeting going well?”

Another flash of guilt made her stomach turn, before his brow furrowed.  “Wait, do you think-”

“I don’t know what I think,” Rose cut him off, “except that you’ve been lying to me.”

He watched her with a curious expression, before looking down at his laptop and sighing.  “All right, come here.”

She did, moving stiffly as he opened the lid, stopping at his side and glaring at the screen.  The image was generic Christmas, a tall decorated tree lit up with colorful lights, the dark night sky behind it. Then he clicked the screen and the image came to life, panning down and around to focus on a couple standing next to it.

“I’m sorry I made you doubt me,” Ian started, pausing the video again and rolling his chair back to make room for her, tugging her down onto his lap; she didn’t resist, but didn’t relent either, perching on his knee with her arms crossed, feeling vaguely guilty and somewhat silly, though the fears beating through her brain were not subdued.  “How do I explain?  When I was studying at Johns Hopkins, I lived with Grace – we were more roommates with benefits than anything else, as you know.  Well, when we would be overwhelmed with work and school, she liked to watch these movies that had started airing – Hallmark?  It’s a… thing over in the States, and it’s only grown over the last twenty years, but these were the early days.  They were cheesy and predictable, but… mindless.  A distraction.  I grew to enjoy them as well, because they were light and hopeful, and I needed that.”

Rose arched an eyebrow. “Are you telling me all your ‘late meetings’ were just you, in here, watching… Christmas movies?”

He nodded.  “I thought… I’m sorry, but I thought you’d laugh. No one knows.  Well, Grace, and we’ll occasionally discuss them in there’s a particularly good one, but- I was embarrassed.  I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

As his words processed, Rose didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.  Sinking into him, she buried her face in his neck, hating his hesitation before tightening his arms around her waist.  Emotion bubbled up her chest, and they were both surprised when it erupted as laughter.  Clinging to him, she gasped for breath amongst her howls, all of her worry being expelled until love tinged with shame remained, and she calmed.

Eventually she sat upright again so she could see his face, smiling as she wiped at her eyes.  “To be clear,” she started, voice hoarse, “I’m not laughing at you watching Hallmark movies.  I’m laughing because how I’ve entertained myself while waiting for you is by watching the same sort of cheese on Netflix.  And in fact, I’ve watched so many of them that I’ve gone through all the non-royalty ones and have resorted to watching those against my better judgement.  And let me tell you, this whole suddenly a queen thing looks a lot easier in the movies.”

Ian laughed as well, expression lightening.  “Sounds like we still need to work on being open and honest with each other,” he said easily.  “Why don’t we go back to our bedroom, make a cuppa, put on some seasonal pajamas, and curl up and watch a movie together?”

“I would love that.” She kissed him, deep and lingering. “And then maybe we’ll go to bed early.”

“Deal.”

-

Once settled on the couch, movie queued on the screen in front of them, Ian allowed himself to relax. It had felt good, sharing this aspect of himself with her, and he was gratified to know that not only had she not made fun of him, but she actually enjoyed the same sort of guilty pleasure.

He couldn’t help but be a little hurt at her initial reaction though, her suspicion and veiled accusations, wondering what he’d done to have that be what she jumped to, rather than planning a surprise (which he was, to be fair).

“Ready?”  Rose flopped onto the couch before curling into him, one arm firmly wrapped around the large bowl of popcorn fresh from the microwave. “Let’s start, so we can call it a night.”

“Sure,” he agreed, hitting play on the remote as they snuggled together.

He tried to focus on the plot, but his thoughts kept running away from him, and by the time the leads had ‘re-met’ as more than passing characters, he was consumed with questions. Hitting pause, he struggled to sit up as Rose protested the change.

“Hey!”  Putting the bowl on the coffee table in front of her, she turned around.  “What’s wrong?”

Ian licked his lips, trying to marshal his thoughts into coherence.  “Can we talk?”

Expression faltering, she nodded, crossing her legs and facing him.  “I guess you wanna know why I sort of overreacted?”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but, yes.  I… didn’t realize we had, well, trust issues.”

“We don’t.”  She sighed, not sounding particularly convinced. “At least, we don’t, and it’s honestly got nothing to do with you.”

He kept silent, watching her.  She seemed to have something on her mind, something from her past, he suspected, and tried to keep his features arranged in an open and inviting manner.  The fireplace crackling was the only sound, the light from the flames making her seem to glow.

“When I was sixteen, I had this shitty boyfriend,” she said haltingly, staring down at her hands and twirling her ring.  “He was a musician who thought he’d make it big, so it was the usual story – I dropped out of school to support him, and he thanked me by getting drunk and being abusive. Verbally, mostly, but- well, mostly. He also cheated.  A lot.  In our- in my bed.  The one that I paid for.  Long story short I eventually went home with my tail tucked between my legs, and you know the rest of that, but…  And then Mickey- don’t tell Martha, he was different then- well, he wasn’t much more inclined to be exclusive, but he wasn’t cruel about it, and to be honest I kept one foot out the door the whole time anyway.  The point is-” she took a deep breath, placing her hand over his, “the point is those scars are deep.  I thought they’d healed- I put a lot of effort into it- but when I stood outside your door, just wanting to be with you and help you, worrying about how much more you’d been working lately- and I heard a woman laugh… it just brought it all back.  Like getting slammed with a rogue wave, just instant- and I know you’re not like that, and I do trust you, I just-”

“Old wounds pull,” he murmured, when it was clear she wouldn’t continue.  “Instinct.”

“Yeah.”  She gave him a soft, tentative smile.  “So, really, I’m sorry for coming on so strong.  I just… I love you so much, I couldn’t do that again. Be the fool again.”

For the first time the conversation made him angry, but not at her.  “You are not a fool,” he told her fiercely, bringing both hands up to cradle her face and make her meet his eye, so she could see the sincerity there. “You are wonderful, and smart, and talented, and brave.  I’m sorry I was a prat sneaking around, I didn’t mean to make you worry.  And I won’t do it again.  I absolutely forgive you, not that there’s anything to forgive.”

“Thanks.”  She sniffled.  “And I forgive you.”

They kissed, a warm, buttery meeting of lips, just a joyful expression of love and happiness.

“Now, what say you we finish this movie?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ears and making her smile. “I want to share this with you.”

Rose bit her lip, looking between the screen and his face, before shrugging one shoulder.  “Dunno, are you sure we’ve made up enough?”

His brow furrowed, her smile morphing into a cheeky grin and she tilted her head in the direction of their bed.  Finally understanding her meaning, he laughed, reaching for the remote and shutting off the telly without a second thought.

“An excellent idea,” he stood, offering her his hands.  “I think I have some making up to you to do.”

“Well, if you insist.”