As planned, Harry and I spent Christmas Eve - the better part of the entire day, actually - with my parents. We had continued talking and texting throughout the week. I managed to pull a little more from him about how keeping the peace meant keeping Cathryn happy. It appeared she was fiercely loyal to her family. Stupidly, even. She had done to Harry the same thing he did to me. Countless times. She had failed to defend him in front of her parents and had never thought twice about it. Harry had never made it a point of contention because he just wanted to keep the peace with her as well as her family. It didn't affect his opinion of her, it seemed. He just reasoned that it was the way she was raised and he loved her in spite of it.

What all of that told me was that Harry was going to be very devoted, but that he was also going to have to learn to fight. Thus far, when we'd had disagreements, ironically, they had mainly been because of Harry's reluctance to upset the peace. Even when he stayed away early on in our relationship because he was afraid of falling more deeply in love, it had been because he didn't want to confide that he was struggling, even if the struggling pushed him towards me. He was afraid I wouldn't understand if he told me about it. 

Christmas Eve was an enjoyably relaxed day with my family. I remembered some Christmas Eves in the past when it had been so incredibly stressful that we all wondered whether the holiday was even worth celebrating. Obviously we had all learned to let some things go in order to keep each other happy. And of course, Mom didn't have as many kids in the house anymore, so her preparation was cut in half, aided by the fact that we were all adults and helped to prepare. 

Harry fell into a happy rhythm with my family as he'd done on Thanksgiving. He seemed at ease with them, but still, during a quiet moment between the two of us, I felt compelled to ask, "Do you feel comfortable with my family?" 

"Of course. Do I seem like I don't?" He asked with concern.

"No, it seems like you get along great with them. I just want to make sure you're not holding anything back," I told him. "I'm pretty sure my parents are much more relaxed than your in-laws, but they're not perfect. If there was anything you had major concerns about, I'd want you to talk to me about it." 

He looked mildly defeated, but maybe in a relieved way. "Yeah, I know. I'd tell you if something was really wrong. But as it is, they seem so much like my family and that makes me very happy. I feel right at home with them."

"That makes me very happy," I reassured him.

Together with all my siblings, we frosted cookies and drank mulled wine. The cookies were much more maturely decorated than past holidays when we dumped piles of decors on them or attempted to make replicas to honor our favorite celebrities. Collin, however, did decide to try to re-create the design from Ariana Grande's latest album cover. We all knew she was his favorite and that he secretly wanted to marry her, but he wouldn't admit it. 

"Very nice," I admired.

"Stop making fun of me," he snorted.

"I'm not making fun of you," I argued.

Harry broke in, telling Collin, "Nice work. She is a hottie." 

I burst into laughter, thinking it sounded odd yet adorably cute to hear Harry call someone a hottie. "Oh really now?" I bantered with him. "Then you might as well know that I fancy Shawn Mendes a bit." 

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "He's a child!" 

"No he's not," I laughed. "And I like his music, so there."

Dinner was lovely as always. My mom had such a flair for entertaining - she put in tons of work but she still made it look effortless. We exchanged gifts and ate our cookie creations around the fireplace. Maybe that was one of the reasons I craved a fireplace of my own. In addition to the fact that warming by a fire and watching the flames dancing beneath the hearth was so mesmerizing, I also had such sweet and pleasant memories surrounding this fireplace in particular. 

Harry and I had decided to wait to exchange our personal gifts to each other on Christmas morning. We had also decided to spend Christmas Eve together at my place so we could wake up together in the morning, but I told Harry that I wanted to wait before having sex again. I didn't want my judgment and emotions to be clouded by the intensity of sexual intimacy. He agreed without question, which spoke a lot to me regarding his love and respect for me.

When we arrived back at my place, I lit all the Christmas lights and left the everyday lights off, so the space around us was bathed in a comforting glow. Harry had helped me to choose a medium-sized Christmas tree and put it up. I'd done it myself the previous Christmas but it was much easier with his help. 

He sat in the corner of the sofa, opposite the tree, and I dragged a wool blanket over both of us as I folded myself into his side. He put his arm around me and that closeness was enough for me to feel completely connected to him.

"Merry Christmas, my sweet," he murmured as he pressed his lips against my temple. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Conversation was light, minimal. After the many words we'd exchanged over the past few weeks, no more were necessary. We knew where we stood with each other. I ran my hand across his chest, occasionally slipping it up to his neck and toying with the curls that hung down to his chin. His hand meandered up and down my arm, drawing little patterns over my sweater as it went. There we sat, loving each other until we were too tired to stay awake, and then we snuggled down into my warm bed together, ready to celebrate the best day of the year together.

Christmas morning found us rested and content. There was no rush to get out of bed, except that when my stomach started growling, Harry teased me mercilessly until I agreed to get up. My mom had made a pan of cinnamon rolls for us to take home and bake, so I prepared them and made coffee. Meanwhile, Harry made delightful breakfast sandwiches with croissants, poached eggs, Gruyère, and parma ham. With butter and just a touch of spicy mustard, they were heavenly.

"Oh my gosh," I said, my mouth still stuffed with a bite of the decadent sandwich, "this has to be one of the best things I've ever tasted in my life!"

Harry blushed modestly and I heard a whisper of "Thanks" from his mouth.

When we were finished with the sandwiches, we brought our warm cinnamon rolls and coffee into the living room. There was a large shipping box under the tree that Harry's parents had sent from England. He hadn't opened it yet because he wasn't sure if it was one big gift or if it contained several smaller presents. 

"Well, should we open the box from my parents first? Or each other's?" 

My answer was decisive. "Parents! I can't wait to see what they sent you. Maybe it will give me some ideas for your birthday." 

"I'm sure there's something in there for you, too," he said, grabbing the box and placing it on the coffee table between us. 

I waved him off. "They don't even know me." 

He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "That doesn't mean they don't love you. They know you make me happy so you're automatically on their nice list." He leaned over a bit further and took a bite of the cinnamon roll that I was holding in my hand. 

"And you're naughty!" I fairly yelled. "Just open the box."

He slit the mailing tape open with his keys and opened the box to reveal three individually wrapped gifts. The largest one was for Harry, appropriately. A smaller one was tagged for me and the last one was for both of us. I looked at Harry with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. A gift for both of us?

Harry opened his present first, and there were actually several items inside: a sharp-looking sweater, socks and underwear - he stopped and looked at me with his cheeks burning. "I'm 25 for heaven's sake." Then he pulled out a tin and opened it to reveal all sorts of candies and chocolates from England - a bunch of purple-wrapped "Double Deckers," some brightly colored "Brighton Rock" swirled candy, and some candy bars labeled "Crunchie." He pulled out a Crunchie bar and said, "You have to taste this!" In his enthusiasm, I caught a glimpse of a younger and more carefree Harry. He tore off the wrapper and shoved the chocolate towards my face. 

"Harry," I giggled. "I just ate a gigantic cinnamon roll, not to mention those amazing sandwiches you made. I'll try one later, I promise."

Undeterred, he took a large bite, closed his eyes and made a long and seductive Mmmm sound. Then he grabbed me unexpectedly and kissed me, flicking his tongue over my bottom lip. He pulled back triumphantly. "Good, huh?" 

"Ew, what has gotten into you?" I laughed. 

He shrugged and said, "It's Christmas!" As if it were the most obvious reason in the world for a 25-year-old man to regress to a 5-year-old mentality. I was happy to see him happy.

In a smaller box, Harry found a pair of cuff-links and a matching tie clip, both neatly displayed on top of a gorgeous silk tie. He looked at me sheepishly and said, "They're the main reason I dress well." 

I bit my lip, saying, "Well, maybe your current girlfriend will shop for you, too." I had gotten him some clothing. "But only because when she first met you, you were dressed as a hobo."

"I was not!" He snipped. 

"Harry, you were dressed in dirty clothes, your hair was matted, and your shoes were literally falling off your feet."

He cracked a grin. "Yeah, I threw those away."

"Thank goodness!" I exclaimed.

"Open yours now," he demanded, lightly bouncing on the couch. Seriously, he was five.

I took the magnificently wrapped package and held it in my hands. "It's so pretty, I don't want to tear the wrapping."

Harry grabbed his camera, snapped a shot and said, "There, problem solved."

I shook my head in laughter as I started to open the gift. I pulled off the box top which read Harrods. 

"Oooh, Harrods!" Harry said excitedly.

I couldn't stop laughing at his juvenile yet adorable behavior. Inside the tissue paper was a stunning cashmere scarf in a delicate blue-green paisley design, along with coordinating gloves and hat. "Oohhh, it's perfect!" I slid the baby soft fabric against my cheek. "And it matches my winter coat." Still holding the scarf against my face, I asked, "Did you have something to do with this?" 

"No," he said sincerely. "My mum is very intuitive."

We waited to open the one addressed to the two of us because Harry was too excited to give me my gifts. He handed me another box that was similar in size and shape to the one from his parents. When I opened it, sure enough, it was another box from Harrods.

"Harry, when did you have time to jet off to London to go Christmas shopping?" 

"Mum helped me a bit with that one," he admitted.

I lifted the lid and found a splendid Burberry handbag that coordinated with the hat and scarf set. "It's beautiful," I told him, taking it from the box. 

"Then it matches the girl." 

I pulled a box from under the tree and handed it to him. It was obviously a clothing box. I figured I'd start with the least exciting gift first.

"Is it a remote control car?" He asked excitedly not even waiting a nanosecond to tear off the wrapping. I just shook my head at him. He opened the box and found the navy blue Tommy Hilfiger v-neck sweater that I'd gotten for a steal at Macy's.

"Wow, this is really nice," he said. "Thank you - it's just my style, really. I love it." 

Harry also gave me a gold and diamond infinity bracelet, which I insisted was too much, but I absolutely adored it. He also gave me a festive, sparkly blue sweater - almost the same shade of blue as the sweater I'd given him, but it had a white Mary Jane collar. It was so perfectly my style that I wondered if Harry had somehow reached inside my head for the idea.

When I gave Harry his second gift, there was no disguising what it was. He smiled like an absolute dork before he even tore off the paper. "It's vinyl, isn't it?" 

"Just open it."

When he saw the Fleetwood Mac Rumors album, he freaked the heck out. "Oh sweetheart, I absolutely love it!" Then he looked at me suspiciously. "You know I don't have a turntable, right?" 

I cocked my head, giving him an innocent shrug. "You'll just have to play it here."

"Uh-huh, I see," he said. "You just wanted to keep it here for yourself." 

"No," I said in my own defense. I took the record out of his hands and set it on the coffee table. "I'm only hoping you'll come around more often." I climbed across his lap and kissed him fervently. 

"More often than I've already been here?" He asked. "That sounds like moving in."

I shrugged. "We'll get there." 

Finally, we opened the box from his parents that was addressed to both of us. Harry's eyes grew round and wide when he saw the box full of English goodies - lots of English tea, a few packages of "biscuits," which appeared to be cookies and shortbread. There were more sweets - jelly babies and pear drops and wine gums. Underneath all of that were a few boxes of spices, one specifically was something called Oxo, which I knew I was supposed to use when I made dinner later in the day. There were also some other seasonings and condiments I'd never seen in the US. 

Finally, I spilled a little secret. "So, I spoke with your Mum on the phone," I said, emphasizing my pronunciation of Mum.

"What?" He drew back in shock.

"I called her and asked how to make a traditional Sunday roast, even though it's not Sunday. I just wanted to do something special for you."

The look of surprise on his face surprised me. "That's probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," he said warmly. 

"Oh, it's not a big deal," I told him. "I hope you don't mind that I called her." 

"Of course not. Why would I mind?" He shook his head.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But anyway, she gave me really good instructions, but I think it might turn out better if you help. And I haven't a clue what Yorkshire pudding is." 

"I'd love to help," he said with a sparkle in his eyes. "One question. Do you have an actual cut of beef? Or a chicken? Because it would be pretty hard to find a butcher open on Christmas Day."

"Give me some credit," I retorted. "I have a roast in the refrigerator. And...." I got up and rushed to the refrigerator, bringing a bakery box and setting it in front of him. 

"What's this?" He said, opening the flap. "Whoa, is this a Victoria sponge?" 

"It sure is," I said proudly. "Your mum said you loved this and I found a bakery in town that made it. I wouldn't dare attempt this one on my own." 

"You are the sweetest," he admired. "Thank you so much." I leaned in to receive his waiting kiss. "I love you." 

"I love you, too. Thank you for everything."

"My pleasure, my sweet." 

* * * * *

Imagine Harry's child-like face of excitement being this exact expression, except when he's about five years older :) That's why Regan kept laughing at him acting like a little kid again.

Whew, feels like I've been building up to Christmas for a while, and now, finally it's here! 

THANK YOU SO MUCH for 30K reads! And all of your lovely comments and support.

XOXO