Midwives' Christmas Miracles: A Touch of Christmas Magic / Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss / Her Doctor's Christmas Proposal. Scarlet Wilson

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      The tree. The lights. The garland. The nativity.

      Just one small lamp was lit in the corner of the room, reflecting the bare white walls back at him. He’d never realised just how sparse this room was.

      Bonnie was sitting on the sofa. She didn’t even turn her head towards him. She was staring at the now unlit fire. Her jaw was set. In one hand she held a glass of wine, the fingers of the other hand running up and down the stem of the glass.

      He braced himself, but she said nothing.

      ‘Bonnie,’ he acknowledged. An elephant had just decided to sit on his chest. At least that was what it felt like.

      She didn’t move, didn’t flinch. It was almost as if he weren’t even there.

      He swallowed again. He really, really needed a drink of water. His mouth had never felt so dry. But he took a deep breath and sat down next to her on the sofa.

      ‘Let me try and explain,’ he said quietly.

      ‘Oh, you’d better.’ Her words dripped ice. Any minute now she was going to pick up the bottle of wine at her feet and launch it at his head.

      Jacob had never really been lost for words before. This was a first for him. He didn’t talk. He didn’t share. Ever since his father had packed him off to boarding school once his mother died, there just hadn’t been anyone to share with. Not like that. Not like the way he used to with her.

      The truth was, he always felt that no one else had ever been that invested in him. Building walls around yourself as a child protected you as an adult. At least, that was what he’d always thought.

      His behaviour tonight had been over the top. He had to explain. He hated what she might think of him right now. What Freya might think of him right now.

      ‘I’m sorry I upset Freya tonight. I never meant to do that.’

      ‘Well, you did. And it will be the first and last time.’

      Bonnie’s voice had no hesitation. The line was very clearly drawn in the sand.

      ‘Let me be clear. Freya is my first and only priority. Every. Single. Day.’

      He could feel prickles down his back. She was worse than mad.

      ‘I know that.’

      He leaned back against the sofa. This was going to take some work. He wasn’t used to talking about himself. And he had no idea what Bonnie’s response might be to his words.

      For a tiny second he squeezed his eyes shut. They were still here. That must mean something.

      He licked his dry lips. ‘I haven’t told you much about my past.’

      Her fingers continued to stroke up and down the wine-glass stem. It was almost as if she was using it as a measure of control. ‘No. You haven’t.’

      She was wearing those jeans again and a soft woollen jumper. Right now he wanted to reach out and touch her. Right now he wanted to feel some comfort. Saying these words out loud wasn’t easy.

      ‘My mother died when I was ten.’

      There. It was out there. The light in the corner flickered inexplicably and he heard her suck in a breath.

      ‘She was the heart of our family. I was an only child and my father spent most of his life in the military. When my mother died it was almost as if all the life was just sucked out of us both.’

      She turned a little towards him. ‘What did you do?’

      He shrugged. ‘What could I do? I was ten. I’d spent most of my time with my mother. We’d shared everything. My relationship with my father had always been a little strained. I just think he didn’t know how to relate to kids.’

      As he was talking he’d moved to face her and as he finished his last sentence her eyebrows lifted. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Like father, like son. And he was struck by the realisation that was the last thing he wanted.

      He fixed on her blue eyes. ‘My dad sent me to boarding school.’

      ‘Do those places even exist any more? I thought they only ever existed in Enid Blyton books.’

      He shook his head. ‘Oh, they exist all right. And they’re just the place to send a ten-year-old whose mother’s died.’ He couldn’t keep the irony or the bitterness out of his voice. ‘I hated every second of it. The education part was fine. The school activity part was fine. But to go from living with your mother, to living there, with nothing really in between...’ His voice tailed off.

      ‘Why did he send you there?’

      Jacob sighed. ‘There was no one else to look after me. I’m an only child and so were my father and mother. Both sets of grandparents were already dead. My father had another posting abroad with the military and there was no question that he wouldn’t go. He told me later that he’d always planned on sending me to boarding school.’ He pushed up the sleeves of his wet jumper.

      She tilted her head to one side. ‘Had your mother stopped that?’

      He shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’ He groaned and sagged back against the sofa. ‘There were so many things that I wished I had asked her. So many conversations I wish I could remember. Most of it is just all caught up in here.’ He waved his finger next to his head. ‘Sometimes I think that things I remember I’ve just made up.’

      ‘How did she die?’

      Jacob hesitated, then took a deep breath. ‘Cancer. Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It was brutal—it sucked the life right out of her.’

      She licked her lips. ‘Did you go to your mother’s funeral?’

      He nodded. ‘It was full of people I didn’t really know. No one really spoke to me. And because of the time of year it was bitter cold and lashing with rain. We were only at the graveside for around five minutes.’

      A little spark of realisation shot across her face. ‘When did your mother die, Jacob?’

      This was it. This was the important part. He felt his eyes fill up and was instantly embarrassed. Men didn’t cry. Men shouldn’t cry.

      But no matter how hard he tried not to, one tear escaped and slid down his cheek. His voice was hoarse. ‘She died three days before Christmas. I came home to a house we’d decorated together, that would never feel the same again.’

      ‘Oh, Jacob.’ Bonnie’s tears fell instantly, and she reached up to his cheek to brush his away. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what that felt like.’

      Now he’d started he couldn’t stop. He felt safe. He felt safe talking to Bonnie. Someone he’d known only a month and invited into his home. There was nothing superficial about Bonnie Reid. She was all heart and soul. He’d never met anyone like her before. Or if he had, he’d never taken the time to get to know them.

      It felt right to tell Bonnie about his mother and why his insides were so messed up about Christmas.

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