Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My gut told me she needed someone to knock some sense into her, just like Hazel had with the wedding when we’d started planning.
Sometimes, only your sibling could give you the reality check that you needed.
“Are you cold?” Thomas asked, looking over at me.
I nodded jerkily, wrapping my arms around myself. The clouds had gathered in the sky above us, and there was that heavy sensation in the air that said more snow was imminent. I knew Castleton well enough to realise that this snow was probably going to hang around for the next couple of weeks before there was any break.
If not snow, then ice. There was no way the ground would fully thaw at any point before Christmas. The closest it would get would be a freeze over some grey slushy mess.
I just hoped it snowed again in time for Hazel’s wedding on Christmas Eve. It was the one thing I didn’t have any control over and the thing that made me the most nervous.
Castleton always had a white Christmas, and that was one of the reasons she’d chosen the twenty-fourth as her wedding date. It was almost guaranteed to snow, but with the amount we already had…
Well.
I was slightly panicking that it’d come early this year.
“Right, let’s go,” Thomas said, touching my arm.
I jerked out of my thoughts and blinked at him. “What?”
“Let’s go,” he repeated, and his lips twitched into a smile. “I just spoke to Mum and told her I was taking you home.”
“You did?”
He shook his head. “You really were in a little world of your own, weren’t you?”
“Mm.” I turned around and walked back towards the square with him beside me. “Just thinking about the wedding, that’s all.”
“Understandable. I can imagine your job is stressful anyway, never mind having to plan your sister’s wedding.”
I took a deep breath slowly sighed it out. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s really sunk in until now. I always want my clients’ weddings to be perfect, but this is something else.”
Thomas stopped at the hot drink stall. There was only one person at the counter, but he placed an order for two hot chocolates, then turned to me. “It’ll be fine. You have everything in place, don’t you? What’s left that could go wrong?”
“Oh, well, you’ve said that now. The last time someone said that about a wedding I was planning, the groom’s father died.”
Tentatively, he reached out and rapped his knuckles against the wooden siding of the stall and smiled awkwardly. “Touch wood. Fingers crossed that doesn’t happen.” He handed me one of the takeaway cups of hot chocolate.
The warmth instantly seeped through my gloves to my fingers, and I returned his smile. “Cross your toes, too. Just in case.”
“If I could in these shoes, I would.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you. For the drink. Another peace offering?”
He lifted the cup to his lips and hid a smile behind the thick, white lid. “More like an attempt to keep you alive long enough to take you home. The last thing I need is you freezing to death in the middle of the square. You’d kill the Christmas vibes a bit.”
I rolled my eyes as we passed by the towering tree. “Thank you for your concern, Your Grace.”
Thomas laughed, and we made the rest of the walk to the carpark without saying another word. It was a weirdly comfortable silence, and I was too grateful for the warmth of the hot chocolate breaking my chill to speak at all.
I finished the last of it and put the empty cup in the bin by the entrance to the carpark. “Thank you. You don’t have to take me home. I can walk.”
He put his cup in the bin, staring at me. “Sylvie. It’s zero degrees out here, it’s dark, it’s cold, and there’s black ice everywhere. You can’t walk home.”
I waved a hand. “Please. Of course, I can.”
He grabbed my shoulders and manhandled me across the carpark to a black Range Rover.
All right.
Manhandled was a strong word.
I didn’t exactly put up a fight, and he was hardly hauling me across the carpark on his shoulder, but still.
“Really, it’s fine, I—”
He released me to dig into his pockets and pull out his keys. The car beeped, and the cars in front were illuminated by the headlights.
Thomas reached around me and opened the passenger side door. “Get in.”
“I can—”
“I’m not asking you, Sylvie. Get in, or I’m going to throw you in.”
“You are not!”
“I most certainly am, and if you keep arguing, I’ll shove you in the fucking boot.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s kidnapping!”
“Oh, boohoo. Kidnapping you in the cold, dark, icy weather to make sure you get home safely. I’m sure you’ll survive.” He kept hold of the door and rested his other hand on the top of the car, effectively trapping me in.