Christmas is Cancelled

Epilogue

The plane lurched down the runway, the engines roaring as it picked up speed. Tilly gripped Dean’s hand even harder; she wasn’t afraid of flying, but she’d always feared the taking off part the most, a brief, irrational feeling that they were all going to die, lasting no more than a few seconds, but it happened every time.

McCarran International Airport slowly disappeared, the glow fading as they jetted into the black sky. As gaudy—and in many parts, as tacky—as Las Vegas was, with its casinos and strip clubs, she was sad to be leaving, their plane plunging deeper into the darkness, but at the same time she was excited.

Had it really only been two days since Dean had shepherded them into his car and set off for Manchester Airport? He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said they were leaving the next day. He’d disappeared first thing with his phone virtually pinned to his ear and returned a couple of hours later with a couple of interesting-looking shopping bags and a broad grin.

It was only once they’d checked in for a flight bound for Las Vegas that the penny dropped, turning her into a fidgeting bundle of nerves. She’d been too restless to sleep, and none of the movies on offer had been able to hold her attention, the anticipation building as Dean remained infuriatingly tight lipped.

Only after several hours did the mass expanse of blackness suddenly break, a strange neon glow appearing in the far distance. Unable to tear her eyes away, she’d been spellbound, watching it grow until it became a sensational backdrop of individual lights and billboards, her bird’s eye view revealing the strip in all its glory.

Her nerves had kicked up another notch as the plane descended, flying closer and closer to the blue spotlight shooting into the sky from the center of a pyramid guarded by a sphinx and an obelisk, almost guiding them in. The smell of kerosene hit her as soon as she got off the plane, but it was masking something else, not unlike the smell of popcorn, keeping warm under the lamps in the cinema.

The airport terminal itself was fairly deserted except for the diehards on the slot machines. As if the gamblers and the bright lights outside hadn’t announced their arrival in spectacular fashion, the garish sign welcoming them to Las Vegas, yet another display of orange and red neon lights, was enough to tie her stomach in knots.

Dean had pulled out all the stops and arranged for a limousine to collect them and take them to their hotel, refusing to tell her where they were going. She could have done with wiring her jaw shut when they first walked into the marble foyer of the Bellagio. It kept dropping at every little thing, and she must have looked a prize fool as they were escorted into an Executive Lounge to check in. She’d cricked her neck, ogling the Christmas display in the Conservatory, and Christmas music filled her ears.

Their suite was incredible, and Phil was in a connecting room, just as stylish as theirs, both overlooking the fountains. They had so much space they could probably have fit all of Dean’s house inside it. They’d spent a good ten minutes exploring, running in and out of all the rooms, giddy with excitement, before crashing out. She’d been so tired Dean practically had to carry her to the enormous bed, complete with posh-branded sheets, where they’d slept for ten hours straight.

She could do with sleeping now, too, but she hadn’t yet managed to sleep during a flight. Not to mention the cramps and the strange metallic taste in her mouth, like she’d been sucking on a two-pence piece for the past hour. Her sense of smell was in overdrive, and the smell of stale cigarette smoke from the man a few seats in front was nauseating. At least she had the aisle seat in case she had to make a run for it.

Whether it was down to stress or something she’d eaten disagreeing with her or maybe some kind of jet lag after travelling halfway around the world was anyone’s guess. Tilly leaned into Dean, and his arm instantly came around her should, cuddling her against him. She inhaled deeply and filled her lungs with his musky scent, letting it soothe her, before releasing it with a deep sigh.

“Penny for them, Mrs. Watson?” Dean kept his voice low, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he dipped his head to kiss her gently. Mrs. Watson. Her skin goosed as a shiver crawled up her spine at the same time as butterflies fizzed inside her belly.

“It’s all so surreal,” she said, lifting her left hand still shimmering after her pearlized manicure, and staring in disbelief at the band of gold now nestled beneath her beautiful engagement ring. “Everything’s been so...”

“So?” His eyebrows arched, one slightly higher than the other. As if drawn by a magnet, Dean raised his hand and laced his fingers through hers from above, warm and strong, joining them together. A larger version of her own simple ring adorned the fourth finger of his left hand, and she had been the one to put it there. Just a few short hours earlier, in fact, after what had been a whirlwind day.

Dean waited patiently for an answer. How on earth was she supposed to be able to describe what she was thinking, what she was feeling, when she still couldn’t believe any of it had actually happened?

They hadn’t stopped once; it was no wonder she was exhausted. As soon as they’d had breakfast, they’d left Phil trying his hand in the casino in order to dash off to the court house, an unassuming-looking building that could just have easily been a council building anywhere in the UK. They’d joined the line of all the other eloping couples waiting to get their marriage license. Queuing had never been so much fun.

The atmosphere was buzzing as everyone swapped stories, some couples already dressed in their wedding outfits, ready to dash to one of the walk-in chapels. Even the officials had been lovely and friendly, their smiles never dropping once, but if Tilly had thought she’d been nervous before, it was nothing compared to when they emerged less than two hours after they entered with their license in hand.

Their limo returned them to the Bellagio, and Dean had insisted she make good use of the spa and salon while he made the final arrangements from up in their suite. It proved to be a good plan when a massage did help to relax her. Next was the manicure while she waited for the hairstylist to fit her in. Tilly was damned if she was getting married looking like somebody else, so that meant the brown hair had to go.

She’d returned to the suite fully made-up with her flame-red hair—or the closest she could find to her natural shade anyway—all back-combed and styled to perfection, and Dean had done a double-take before grabbing her and spinning her around the room. There was just enough time to get packed and dressed into their wedding outfits in their own respective bathrooms before the limo came to collect them.

Phil had knocked on the connecting door and taken their bags down to the storage room to be looked after and then come back for her, looking splendid in his full tux with a green cummerbund to match her dress. Not that she’d been ready, her hands were shaking too much to do her zip up, but she’d already heard Dean leave, muttering something through the door about wanting it to be a surprise.

Phil almost undid all of the beautician’s hard work by telling her how beautiful she looked as he zipped her up. When he’d asked if he could possibly give her away, she’d barely managed a nod before darting back to the bathroom to arm herself with even more tissue for emergency repairs. On trembling legs, she’d finally exited the lift on Phil’s arm and made her way through the foyer to the waiting car.

Her first sight of Dean had been the back of him, standing tall but stiff. As soon as she’d cleared the doors, he seemed to sense her presence and turned around. He’d looked incredible—he still did, in fact, seeing as they hadn’t had time to change—his tux spotless with a single white rose as a buttonhole. His hair was loosely styled and the designer stubble look she’d asked him to keep was the only roughness she could see. His eyes had taken on a decidedly glassy look, and his chest rose and fell in double-quick time.

He bore a stunning bouquet of ribbon-tied white roses for her to carry, and when he’d held his hand out for her to join him, that’s when it really dawned on her that she was about to get married. It was a good thing Phil had a firm grip on her arm; otherwise, her legs might not have made it. All that was missing was the organ playing “The Bridal Chorus” as she’d tottered over to Dean. Even the crowds had begun to gather for them.

The limo took them around the major landmarks of the strip before pulling up at the fountain outside the Paris Las Vegas hotel for the wedding itself. Dean’s nerves had finally started to show; he was constantly wiping his palms and straightening his tie even though he looked immaculate. His fidgeting only stopped when Tilly had reached for his hands, feeling them tremble beneath her touch.

Under a turquoise and pink sky, the natural neon lights far more beautiful than anything Las Vegas could come up with, they had taken their vows and exchanged rings with the Eiffel Tower behind them and the Bellagio fountains opposite. The ceremony was magical. Traditional yet modern with a definite romantic twist that could have been written specifically for her. And that was it, they’d done it. Really truly gone and done it.

Phil was sniffing, and Dean was all misty-eyed again, and then the photographer had confirmed her fears, popping up beside her and suggesting she take a couple of minutes to refresh her makeup before the next set of photos. Jumping back into the wedding limo one last time, they returned to the Bellagio. Phil ran inside for the luggage, doing his best man bit, and Dean had pulled her over to watch the fountains one last time.

The photographer still hovered and captured their second kiss, only breaking apart when a sound like a twelve gun salute had gone off, closely followed by loud music, the song ironically called “This Kiss.” The fountains had danced and twirled and cannoned into the air, lifting her spirits until she’d felt like she was soaring. And then she really was soaring as Dean waltzed her around the concourse, light as a feather on his feet for their first dance, only stopping to watch the fountain’s big finale, which made the hair on the back of her arms stand on end.

All of it totally unforgettable.

“I don’t really know.” Tilly’s brain was scrambled, struggling to find the right word so she gave up and shrugged. “It’s like I must be dreaming or something. So...perfect?”

Dean beamed back at her. and his eyes sparkled, no sign of the shadows that had blighted him for years. “It has, hasn’t it? Ours was by far the best wedding I’ve ever been to, even if I do say so myself.”

“Absolutely! I can’t think of a single thing I would change.”

“No, me neither.” Dean’s brilliant smile faded ever so slightly. “Although I do wish I could whisk you away on a honeymoon now too.” He cast an apologetic looking glance at her. “I never thought I’d rue the day my success was a hindrance.”

“Hey, no regrets are allowed, okay?” she said, jabbing her elbow into his ribs and kissing his frown away. “A honeymoon can wait, we have plenty of time for that. Besides this trip alone must’ve cost you a fortune.”

Dean’s grip on her hand tightened, and his focus zoomed in on her, so serious, so earnest, it turned her insides into nothing more than putty and left her breathless before he’d uttered a single word. “I’d have paid ten times more if that’s what it took to marry you. We’ve lost out on so much time already, I didn’t want to wait a moment longer.”

“You’re insane,” she said, forcing the words past her dry throat and trying to make light of his words with a giggle.

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, with a wry smile and a single shake of his head.

“I didn’t really have you pegged as the romantic type.”

“Ah, well. Guilty as charged, so you’d better get used to it,” he said, flashing her a devilish grin, alarmingly hot-wired to her senses and reminding her of all those fictional rakes again.

“Lucky me.” Her already pounding heart leaped and stuttered, desire rushing through her veins, and she could feel the heat building in her cheeks.

“Um, whatever you’re thinking, you’d better stop,” he said, leaning into her and lowering his voice further, somehow magnifying the effect. “Or we’ll be consummating this marriage by joining the Mile High Club. Right here. Right now.”

Tilly swallowed, trying to douse the flames. Her cheeks weren’t the only thing burning anymore. An almost nonexistent moan escaped her lips, but from the catch in his breath, he’d heard her loud and clear.

Dean continued, his voice even huskier, “Which does admittedly sound rather appealing, but...” He broke eye contact briefly to turn and glance at Phil, sitting in the window seat beside him. “I’m not sure I’d perform all that well with an audience, especially one that includes your brother.” Her brother who was thankfully oblivious, busy staring at the small screen on the back of the seat in front of him with headphones in his ears, wholly absorbed in a film.

Tilly huffed. “I wish I could sleep on planes, it’ll be hours before we get back to your house and—”

“Our house,” Dean interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve already got a meeting arranged with my solicitor for next week to update my will and to add your name to the house deeds.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I know, angel, but I’d like to.” He hesitated. “Actually, seeing as neither of us are likely to get any sleep, I might as well ask you now.”

“Ask me what?”

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Another one?” she asked, playing coy. Dean smiled, but he looked nervous, and her inner alert system started jangling, warning her that whatever it was he wanted to ask, it was going to something big.

“If you’re okay with it, I was also going to ask him to register you as a director.”

“Pardon?” Tilly spun to face him, sitting bolt upright in her seat. The sudden movement made her head swim, and everything went black like she was about to pass out.

Dean grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s passing. I must have moved too fast.” When she opened her eyes, she found Dean staring at her, his eyes searching hers for any hint she was trying to be brave, so she pasted a smile on her face. “You do know I’m useless with a hammer and not much better with a paintbrush, don’t you?”

“I can imagine.” Dean relaxed his grip a little. “But I was thinking more on the organizational side, based in the office.”

“Right...” In principle it sounded great. It was a very generous offer, but she couldn’t help wondering how much Brian had said and whether Dean was only offering her a job out of sympathy. “You don’t have to do this, you know? I’m not a charity case, I have savings that will see me through until I get another job, and it shouldn’t take long. I’m bloody good at what I do.”

“I believe you, that’s why I want you to join the business. I’m not doing a very good job of this.” He raked his hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Believe it or not, I was going to advertise for a PA to help me keep on top of everything. I still can, if you prefer? I know it might be a bit much to work with me as well as live with me, but I figured we’d make a good team.”

“Just like that?” Tilly fought the urge to whoop, especially with so many passengers trying to sleep. A husband, a home, and a job all in the space of a week, it didn’t seem possible.

“Yep, just like that.”

“Wow.” She dropped her head and looked at her lap. “I didn’t think today could get any more crazy...”

“Is it really so crazy?” Dean’s hands slid up over her shoulders to cradle either side of her jaw, lifting her head where she couldn’t fail to lose herself in his imploring gaze. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Everything I am, everything I have, I want to share with you.”

Her eyes tingled as she blinked back tears, and the lump in her throat grew so big she couldn’t speak. Unable to answer any other way, Tilly threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close to kiss him, pouring all of her heart into it.

“Wow.” Dean broke away and rested his forehead against hers, his short sharp breaths whispering over her skin. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’, and after sealing the deal with a kiss like that, there’s no way you’re allowed to renege on it.”



***



There was something distinctly adolescent about holding hands with Tilly in the back seat of the car. Even more strange with it being Dean’s own car but there was no way he trusted himself to drive. Out of the three of them, Phil was the only one to get some sleep on the long flight, so he was in charge of getting them home safely.

“Home sweet home, angel.” It seemed a shame to wake Tilly, but Dean couldn’t very well leave her in the car. She sat up and looked around, her eyes groggy.

“That was quick.”

Phil turned round from the front seat and handed the keys over. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Party time. So naturally, I’m off to the pub. I don’t want to be wasting valuable drinking time sitting on the motorway now, do I?”

“I’m amazed you still have a driving license.” Tilly tutted and rolled her eyes, just like she’d always done. It was quite poetic for the three of them to be back together, stronger than ever. Dean had never really had a family before, and he couldn’t help smiling.

“Right then, I’m out of here,” said Phil, getting out of the car before popping his head back in. “I’ll see you two lovebirds in the morning.”

Dean got out of the car and raced around to open Tilly’s door, watching as Phil’s silhouette disappeared toward the village pub. The moment Tilly was out of the car, Dean swept her up into his arms.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Carrying you across the threshold of course, it’s the rules.”

She laughed and relaxed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Well, if it’s the rules, who am I to argue?” She laughed even harder when he struggled to hang on to her and get the keys in the lock, but he finally managed it. “So what do you want to do now?” she asked as he set her down on her feet.

“Oh, I know exactly what I want to do. And I doubt Phil will be back for hours.”

Reading his mind, she kicked off her shoes and sprinted for the stairs. The chase was on, and she had a head start, but he still beat her to the bedroom.

As stunning as her dress was, molding her lithe body and accentuating her curves, it had to go. He needed to see her, touch her, claim her. She gasped as his fingers brushed against her back, goose bumps appearing as he inched the zip lower, letting the dress fall to the ground like a pool of water lapping at her bare feet. “So beautiful,” he murmured.

She turned away and drew back the quilt, climbing into bed and then patting the empty space. He couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough, suddenly all fingers and thumbs, ready to shred the lot if necessary. Finally laid beside her, Tilly reached for him, her hands roaming over his chest before she pressed up against him.

“I love you, Matilda Watson,” he said, brushing his lips against hers.

“Then don’t tell me... Show me,” she breathed, pulling him down on top of her. “It’s New Year’s Eve, and I demand to see fireworks.”

Dean inched inside her, his wife, determined to savor every moment and give her what she wanted. “You’re mine now,” he said, claiming her again and again. “For now and always.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Finally, a promise he could keep.