"You ought not to have added so much butter."

My eyebrows rising before I scoffed. "I can't believe you're blaming me for whatever this is supposed to be."

"It's called cake, Ava. Christmas cake. Show some respect," she retorted.

"Well, it appears to me that it's beyond saving and can't wait any longer. The least we could do is skip the decoration stage and give it a 'Rest In Peace' funeral by eating it all." I nonchalantly rolled my eyes at her over-exaggeration.

"You're the one who added excessive amounts of butter. I measured all the ingredients precisely for a perfect cake, and now look at what it has become—a sorry mess," she replied. I tried my best to hold back my laughter, but the frustration on her face left me no chance. Not to mention the monstrous cake that still stood tall on the kitchen island, even after losing substantial parts all over the oven and floor. "I'm thrilled that my hours of effort have amused you," Sawyer huffed sarcastically, annoyed by my behaviour.

"I'm sorry, I thought it was lacking... and just so you know, it's not only butter. I also added icing sugar and some yeast. I really don't agree with the quantities you've been using. The last batch of biscuits you made were devoid of sugar," I admitted. But in my defence, I had no idea that a cake made with a small amount of ingredients could turn into such a strange creature after adding sugar, yeast, and, well, a cup of butter. Okay?

"Yeast? You added yeast to the cake? You're unbelievable, Ava," she shook her head and dropped her hands on her hips in frustration.

"But yeast was listed in the ingredients," I frowned.

"That's for doughnuts and other snacks," she paused, took a deep breath with her eyes closed, and continued, "This is my kitchen, and you shouldn't be the one making decisions. The biscuits were supposed to be sugar-free, in case you didn't know. I can't keep watching Auntie Susan hiding behind sugar over a man." Accurate! Sawyer's right; that's how Mum has been lately.

Well done, Ava! Congratulations on achieving your goal. Now you get to witness your innocent mother's slow descent.

I swallowed and held onto the counter for physical and moral support after my subconscious hit me with honesty. A shaky breath escaped from my windpipe as I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, trying to find some excuse. "Oh! Well, I am also a chef... I helped with everything here," I waved my hand around the messy kitchen.

"Wait! You didn't," Sawyer's eyes inspected the pancake batter and me suspiciously.

"So what? It's Hell's Kitchen anyway," I shrugged noncommittally until she took a turn around the island. That's when my feet accelerated, and we began circling the apartment, scattering everything we had managed to put in place for weeks.

"What's happening there?" Mum weakly questioned from her bedroom.

It had been over two weeks since we moved out of Christian Boyce's mansion, and Mum had been in this apartment, dreary in only her pyjamas with red, swollen eyes from crying herself to sleep every night. Sadly, even doctors have no cure for heartbreak.

The other worst part is that her dedication to work has vanished. I tried several times to remind her how much the world needs her, but nothing seems to motivate the broken woman who would do anything for me. But I repaid her unfairly, and now the damage has been done.

"Nothing." Frozen in our tracks, we responded in unison, knowing for sure that Mum wouldn't get out of bed to find the mess we had made in her apartment.

It might not be London, our familiar home, and Mum is struggling with her broken heart, but after two days in a hotel room, a friend of hers informed us about this apartment in Summerlin. Surprisingly, it's conveniently close to Mom's workplace and my school.

Sawyer and I managed to keep the Christmas spirit alive. Ever since we moved in, we went shopping for the essentials and organized the small, comfortable house together. Honestly, I am so grateful to have Sawyer by my side. I wouldn't have known how to handle these days without her. She's always there for me and Mom. I feel bad that I couldn't open up to her about the actual reason, but what I fear most is losing her, and I know damn well that I would if she knew I am behind my mother's pain. Sawyer is the closest thing to a sister that I have left. Yes, Lilith has disowned me again. She came into my English class with her cruel friends just to write it boldly on the display board. I gained a lot of attention that day... well, in the days leading up to the holiday break, I was the recipient of many face slaps.

With a warning glare, Sawyer suggested that I clean up the living area while she handled the kitchen.

Everywhere felt so cosy, just as it should be. I added a DJ sense and took over the Christmas songs from my playlist.

We rocked our brand-new pyjamas and socks, just like yesterday. Instead of attending the Embry's Christmas Eve party, to which I wasn't even invited. I mean, who's dumb enough to waste Christmas evening at a party instead of being with their family and loved ones? But Embry is a strange person, and she has her followers. Leigh told me that Lilith attended too. It wasn't surprising in the least since they're best friends. I honestly couldn't blame her. Leigh and I took away the family she thought she had.

I noticed that the house felt a little like last year's holiday, but one person was missing—my auntie. And my mum wasn't the way she was supposed to be; these should have been the two days leading up to her wedding.

***

Aside from the delicious Christmas goose and loads of desserts, including my favourite Panettone Italian Bread, which Sawyer refers to as Santa bread (although we also had Santa bread on the table), everything was in its proper place.

Sawyer had managed to squeeze in time between the cooking contest to make our Christmas dinner just like in the old days. With Mum's and Auntie Catherine's usual mint sauce, a burst of cranberry, and bread sauce, everywhere smelled like the holidays.

"Yes, my cousin is now officially a verified young chef. Yesterday, on Christmas Eve, Sawyer was announced as the winner of the competition, where she and Xavier surprised Mum and me with the longest kiss my eyes have ever witnessed. Oh, and she's rich."

"What's this? A bomb box?"

"It's a makeup kit, does that ring any bells?" I replied, slightly annoyed that I had to explain.

Back in London, we usually exchanged gifts on Christmas morning, but this year, the tradition seemed to change. With Mum nestled in bed all day, we decided to shift the occasion to dinner and gather around the small Christmas tree we placed on the dining table.

"Aww, thank you, cousin." Sawyer really appreciated my gift. She's the fancy one, so I thought a make-up kit would be just right. She had gotten me a tea flask and a set of twelve white napkins, thinking I have some obsession with them when she found two under my pillow. If only she knew how much those napkins mean to me, especially now that our new apartment no longer carries his scent. I need those two napkins for strength.

"Here, my darling, and here, my love." With a gentle smile, Mum handed over two small unwrapped boxes.

"Oh my goodness, it's so beautiful. Thank you," Sawyer murmured.

"It's really pretty, Mum, but who's my other half?" I shifted my gaze between the two people in the room, confused.

"It's me, I guess." Sawyer lifted the same tiny silver choker necklace.

"I see."

"We've always admired matching accessories. This is so cute," Sawyer beamed excitedly. "I'm never taking it off." She put it on immediately.

"Cousins forever. Thank you, Mum." I smiled at her and wore mine too.

The final gift was ours for Mum. Sawyer got her a large set of tea cups—a box of 50 pieces, which left us in awe. I'm sure it's worth a lot.

"Thank you, Sawyer. You didn't have to do that," Mom smiled at her niece, but her smile faded when her eyes landed on my priceless gift.

It wasn't something expensive. I had simply framed an old photo of her and me from her university days. And that was enough to make her emotional. "Thank you, my baby," she murmured, wiping away a tear that escaped.

To alleviate the awkward moment, I chose to start a conversation, although I genuinely meant it. "Why are we having goose with vegetables and roasted potatoes? It should be turkey or chicken."

Sawyer's eyes automatically rolled in a "here we go" manner. "Oh, come on, stop complaining and embrace your old tradition."

Frustrated, I pouted. "But we always eat chicken every Christmas. That's the tradition. I think we should respect and keep it." If I remember correctly, we've always had chicken on Christmas. The two years we had turkey were the ones when Auntie Catherine invited Mr Philip and his two boys for Christmas, as a single chicken wouldn't satisfy such a big Christmas dinner.

"Nonsense. That's because we had little savings, my dear," Mom corrected me.

Intrigued, I dared to ask. "Do we have big savings now?" Once again, Sawyer's eyes involuntarily rolled, and she wagged her finger in my direction.

What's her problem with me? Shouldn't this be something I should know?

Well, according to Mum's perspective, apparently not. "We can look after each other," she decided, offering a vague reply, and her eyes told me not to push it.

"My mum must be feeling so lonely this Christmas. If it weren't for Mr Walker lecturing me about flight arrangements that, I swear to God, I have no idea about, I'd be out of here to accompany her for the holiday," Sawyer groaned from her seat.

Mum patted her hand and reassured Sawyer, "Catherine is a strong woman. I'm sure she's having a good time."

"And so are you, Auntie," Sawyer frowned.

"I don't know." Mom lowered her eyes to the clean, empty dish.

"Yes, definitely you are. When my mum and Mr Philip called it off, you were the one who told her that men aren't worth it. You know, your words always inspire me to be an independent person rather than waiting for a man to be my backbone." Okay, my cousin might be young, but she has always been the one giving Mum strength through these difficult days that I knowingly caused for my own selfish reasons.

"Oh, honey, you're such a sweet child, but life just seems to play games with me."

"Mom, please, don't worry. Everything will be alright, I promise." I didn't even believe the last word myself, but I forced everything I had inside me to say something encouraging. It has been hard watching Mom break down these past few weeks.

"Indeed," Sawyer agreed.

"Thank you, girls. You have no idea how grateful I am to have you. That's why after the holiday break, I will make arrangements, and we will be going back home with Sawyer."

Something just stabbed me, but I don't know the exact spot.

What?

"Really?" Sawyer became elated.

"What?" I mirrored their expressions. My first instinct was Leigh. I can't leave here.

"My dear, I think I've been selfish. When you said you wanted to go back to London and I insisted we stay here, I admit I was too clouded by..."

"Love?" I interjected.

She smiled faintly and nodded. "I believe so. Well, everything will be great and just the way it used to be. I will start looking for a job back home and a school for you. I've called Mr Williams; he said he'll be looking for a good and comfortable home around our former neighbourhood so that we can be close to our old friends."

I exhaled and leaned forward, my heart thumping against my chest. "What about this being our home?"

"I think it's all gone, my love," she said with a weak smile.

"Mom, we shouldn't make hasty decisions when we're hurting. That's what someone I know used to say." I quoted her famous words, and she placed her hand on top of mine.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," she said, retreating with a pretend smile and beginning to set up our meal.

***

"Do you think this Christmas is boring?" I asked Sawyer.

"No, it's great. Look, we have each other..."

"Only Auntie Catherine," I interjected, and she giggled.

"True. But isn't that all that matters?"

Yes, she's right. That's all that matters. Every holiday since I can remember, we've spent it together with my small family—twice with Mr Philip and his children, and sometimes with Sawyer's father, even though he decided his family is no longer his responsibility and chooses to shun them. But Auntie Catherine still opens the door for him anytime he feels like joining us. She says it's for Sawyer's sake, but I doubt if Sawyer even cares.

As I tossed and turned, Sawyer's breathing became even. Once again, she fell asleep more easily than I did, especially now that we share the same room and the same bed. It's even harder for me.

Ping!

I snatched my phone from the nightstand and checked the message thread.

Leigh: Are you at home?

With a smile, I quickly replied.

"That depends on what you mean by 'home'."

Ping!

Leigh: Ava.

I could imagine the firm look in his intense green eyes, and I suddenly found myself blushing in the darkness.

"Sorry. Well, I'm in a house, but not a home."

Ping!

Leigh: Alright then, come home. I'm down the street.

Without responding, I excitedly tossed my phone aside, hopped off the bed, slipped on my goofy soft shoes, and shrugged into a warm jacket over my pyjamas.

I didn't forget to grab the tiny box I had been rewrapping for a week now and shoved it into my pocket before tiptoeing out through the front door. Mom would panic if she caught me sneaking away from the building, but over the weeks we've spent here, I've become an expert at sneaking out of the house when everyone is asleep so I can meet the love of my life.

It might not be snowing, but the view of the street is enough to bring back my childhood Christmas spirit. The facades of the houses are all adorned with beautiful ornaments and bright lights, tracing patterns on every wall. And not to mention the audible Christmas carols being sung by the children from the church a few blocks away.

My smile widens even more when I spot the blue Bugatti.

Pulling my jacket closer to my skin, I hug myself, for even though it's not snowing, the weather is so bitterly cold that it huffs and puffs freezing wind. I have to practically run to the safety of the car waiting for me by the side of the road.

"Hello there." I lower my eyes and peep through the open door before getting into the passenger seat.

"Hey, you." Leigh instantly grabs my face, and his lips gently suck on mine. He's so warm, and I want to cling to his protection.

"Merry Christmas," I whisper.

"You said that yesterday." He scrunches his face playfully and kisses me again.

The car's heater is on, and it quickly helps ease my shuddering state.

I sit back into the seat and grin widely as I remember. "I know, but yesterday was Christmas Eve... besides, it's our first Christmas, so I'm excited."

"Well then, Merry Christmas and happy first Christmas together." He takes my freezing hands in his large palms and blows warm air from his mouth before rubbing his hands back and forth over mine. The gesture is helpful and simply cosy.

"Do you know we had goose for dinner?"

"Wow, that's so typically British," he teases, making my eyes reluctantly roll at his obsession with my traditions. Well, more specifically, his obsession with me.

"It's an old British tradition, trust me. We've always had chicken for Christmas."

"Not turkey? That's unfair."

"It's excessive. Your family couldn't finish a turkey in a single night."

"Well, we don't dine alone on Christmas; we have relatives over," he explains wearily, leaning back into the seat. "They kept poking their noses where they weren't invited, showing an interest in Susan and my dad." He added, and a frown spread over my face.

"She said something about getting us a house back home after New Year. I don't ev..."

"What?" Leigh's eyes are about to pop out of their sockets.

"I kn..." I started but got interrupted.

He looks and sounds fearful as he asks, almost too loudly for the small space, "You're leaving the States?"

"I don't know yet. We haven't discussed much about it. She just brought it up today. Maybe she's..."

"You wouldn't leave me, would you?" The timidity in his tone and the dread on his face made me feel the need to clarify the situation as he searched my eyes with pure panic.

"No, never," I retorted.

"Good, because I can't handle losing the last piece of my heart." His hand grabbed my hip and pulled me towards him. I helped myself cross over the centre console, placing my hands on his shoulders for support until I sat astride his thighs.

"Leigh..." Of course, he would cut me off again.

"Promise?" He grabbed both my hands in his and watched me with anticipation.

"As long as you're here, I'm not going anywhere," I assured the scared boy who had stolen my heart and made it his.

He exhaled a sad smile and averted his eyes down to our linked hands. "When my mother died, she took four-eighths of me, leaving me with half. Then my dad was broken, and I had to take care of Lilith. She was very little and she needed someone... I had to be there for her when Dad couldn't... and honestly... I understood him. It wasn't easy. I think through those days, I lost one-fourth of what was left."

"Five-eighths were gone, and you're left with a little." Slowly, with my index finger, I lamentably drew circles around his chest where his heart is, and I could feel him relaxing under my touch.

"Well, life happened, and just like that, some pieces from the small part were gone too." He murmured slowly, barely audible.

"Hailey?" I cautiously questioned.

"What?" Stunned, he swallowed.

Yes, we hadn't discussed our past relationship, not that I have one, but he does, and we've never brought it up for discussion until now that it came up. He shouldn't be surprised I've heard about her. She went to the same school as every Summerlin kid, and she dated the star quarterback. What does he expect?

"Hailey Morgan McKenzie. You know she's quite popular around Hills High." She was supposed to be a senior if she hadn't changed schools, which I am so grateful for. I know for sure I could poorly survive thunderstorms from various waves but with Leigh's ex? No, I doubt I could survive a day around her. Up till today, I refuse to see her picture. I'd rather not have her face haunting me vividly in my head.

He drew in a sharp breath and exhaled. "Okay, fair enough. Hailey happened."

"What happened between you two?" Shoot... my curiosity got the best of me.

"It doesn't matter."

"But what if it does? What if... maybe..."

And he interrupted me again. "Whatever's running in that smart head of yours isn't true." Okay, that offended me.

"If it's smart, why would it lie? Why didn't you ever tell me about her?"

"Hailey is the past, you're my present, and I'm certain about the future... it doesn't matter what broke up my past relationship... besides, you've consumed me. Precisely like Frederick Wentworth had said, give me a chance to quote; you've pierced my soul. Only I am not half agony, I am full hope, Ava Lancelot. I only want to talk about you, about everything that consists of you." Have you ever felt like you've achieved everything you ever wanted, like even if the world decided to end at that moment, everything would be a success? That's what Leigh's words did to me, and that's why I pushed myself to ask the next question.

"What's left of your heart?"

"A little piece. Can't I entrust you with it?"

A smile replaced my earlier expression, and I brought my fingers to his jaw. Without hesitation, they got lost inside the heaven that is his hair, causing it to spike adorably. "I'll be your Elizabeth, and you, my Will. You can leave your heart with me and go sail or wherever you wish because I will always have it with me... but honestly, don't go away. I'd prefer you to stay while I take care of your heart." I added the last line, feeling embarrassed.

A relaxing silence fell between us while Leigh's eyes hooded predatorily as they intensified on me. It's the primal desire that lives in both of us that almost got me to rip his shirt off until he aimed a camera at my face.

My eyes widened, and instantly, I covered my face with my palms. "What are you doing?"

"Recording you."

"I thought it only took pictures?" I brought my face closer to the camera and warily inspected the lens. Whatever view he was getting on the screen must be the reason behind his endearing laughter that filled the warm vehicle. It's my favourite sound that ruined all other sounds for me.

"Oh no, it does the unbelievable."

"You have a thing for cameras, don't you?"

"I wouldn't express it that way. I got this the first day I saw you."

My smile widened at the interesting subject, and I blurted, "What?"

"Anyways, here is your..." He leaned over until our chests were touching, and my back was pressed against the steering wheel when he opened the glove compartment and brought out a package. "Come on, you've gotta open it." He dropped the quite heavy thing into my hands.

"What's inside?" I curiously inquired.

"Chill, babe. You'll find out for yourself. It just takes patience." He charmingly smirked.

With suspicious eyes, I slowly ripped off the wrapping and boom! "Oh my goodness, you've gotten me, Thomas Hardy..." My mouth hung open as I skimmed through the first book. It's one of my favourites by the great novelist, 'Far from the Madding Crowd.' "Leigh, they're first editions! Why?"

"Why not?"

"It's too much. I can't accept." I held them out to him.

"Ava..."

"Leigh..." I interrupted, only to be interrupted again.

"I organized your bedroom bookshelf. Your mom gave me a list of your favourite books, and I forgot to add Thomas Hardy's. Although your mom didn't mention that you admire the dude, and I am so grateful you don't, or else I wouldn't like it." I would have giggled at his adorability, but I was too astounded.

"They're mostly all first editions, Leigh," I muttered.

"Which you all deserve." He kissed my nose, and my lips, and brought my fingers to his lips, leaving soft, tender kisses.

He gave me my dreamy little library. I never even knew it was him.

"Thank you so much." I smiled and leaned forward, attaching our lips again for another quick kiss.

Leigh frowned when I pulled away. "I'm not done," he announced before his lips found mine, and we hungrily devoured each other's mouths while his hand stroked my clothed thigh and the other grasped my neck, pulling me further into him.

"You have to open my gift," I whispered a reminder against our touching lips.

"Uhh, yes." He fumbled with his words, and I giggled.

Leigh pulled back and unwrapped the small box I had brought out from my jacket. "Wow, it's beautiful." His eyes inspected the tiny object.

Feeling more than excited, I said, "I'm glad you like it. I was thinking maybe you could sometimes switch it with that faith bracelet."

Not like I expected, there was silence. Did I say something wrong? I began to think of something to explain myself. "It's actually hopeful to have faith and-"

"I don't have faith."

"But-"

"I should go. It's getting late, and you need to sleep." He smiled faintly, and I immediately knew I had awakened something I had no knowledge of.

"It doesn't matter. I want to be here with you." I sadly mumbled.

"As much as I want that, we have to be careful, or we could attract attention to ourselves."

"I would miss you." I hid my face in the nook of his neck and inhaled his heavenly scent.

"Me too. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He lifted my head out from its hiding place, and the depth of his fixated gaze proved the impact he had on me.

"I'll bring you gingerbread," I said, trying to appear less abashed.

"Oh, I can't wait."

Exhaling, my eyes fell on my former seating area, where Leigh's camera lay at the moment. "Is that thing still recording?" I asked when I noticed the small red blinking light.

"Oh, huh... I must have left it on..."

"Purposely?"

"Kinda..." He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes at how adorably cute he was. "Now, seriously, let me get you home." He was so smart to figure out my stalling tactic, and I whined lazily.

Pushing the door open, Leigh grabbed his camera from the passenger seat while I clambered out of the car through the driver's door. Hand in hand, we walked on the pavement in the cold weather, enjoying the silence of the night as we headed to the three-story apartment building where I lived.

The empty street was lit up in different colours, and a fake snowman sadly stood alone by our neighbour's lawn.

"Hey." Uninformed, my body twirled, and uncollected, I felt his mouth capture mine. It was the best gift I had received for Christmas. I savoured my favourite taste instantaneously.

The intense emotions in the ardent kiss, as his tongue devoured my lips, induced me to pull him closer. I was greedy and not getting enough, for even air had become inconsequential. There was nothing more I ever wanted than having him right here.

At that moment, I was lost in his sweetness, and my dominating passion was everything that approved of clinging to him. He tasted pure goodness, and it ignited an utmost sensation in me—a certain promise of devotion.

We pulled away and breathed the same cold air. Our foreheads were bound together, and his intense eyes bore into mine.

"I thought maybe I'd kiss you underneath the mistletoe." He mumbled, but I couldn't care less to spare a quick glance above us. Leigh was the subject, his eyes, his lips... his smile. He was right here, and I couldn't risk losing a second to look away from him.

I could never quite figure out the beauty of his lips and the sweetness of his words. At that moment, the urge to reach out and feel the softness of them was instinctual, and I lightly stroked his flirtatious, red lips.

My hands wrapped around his neck, and I wondered if there were days when humans existed without silent communication, like the feeling of his touch against my skin, the warmth of his breath as he blew clouds of smoke from his parted lips, his masculine presence invading my body's system, and the beauty of his smile as it stimulated me.

No! I'd be damned if I didn't have Leigh Boyce in my life.

I stepped away from him, and he ran a free hand through his hair, tousling it further in an extremely attractive way. "Goodnight." He smiled softly, and I found it contagious.

"Goodnight," I whispered and walked through the entranceway with Thomas Hardy classics in my hands, another perfect Christmas gift after the kiss.

Call me greedy, but I couldn't get enough. So, I looked back at the person who had my heart and soul; he was standing with his camera pointed at me. Above him was the decorative mistletoe, slightly swinging as the night wind blew, against the walk-through gate of my apartment.

Leigh's effortless beauty was so real yet very rare that even the night was jealous of him.