Drew stayed the night. It wasn’t something he did often. I could count on one hand the number of nights he’d stayed until morning. But this morning felt different, like something had shifted. He hadn’t fucked me to oblivion on the kitchen countertop. He hadn’t pushed me against the wall and got out the frustrations that could only be reached through frantic sex. He’d made love to me. Treated me like I was his world—like I’d given him relief and taken away his doubts. As he slid himself inside me, kissed me, whispered words of love and companionship…he asked me to stay with him at Karensa.

A few more days, maybe weeks. More. We needed more.

After promising I would speak to Gerry about extending my time here, Drew continued reading A Christmas Carol to me, remembering it was my tradition on Christmas Eve, and as I wrapped myself around him and melted into his long, leisurely strokes against my hair, I thanked my lucky Christmas stars that Drew had been brought into my life.

Drew fell asleep with the book at the side of him, but I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and typed out a quick email to Gerry explaining that I needed more time to polish the manuscript and asking if I could stay for another month. He replied immediately, another creative soul who often found the stillness of night a perfect time to work. He gave me until the end of January, citing that he would need to run it past Drew. I laughed at that, replying before closing off the phone that I was sure he would be accommodating.

I lay back, facing the ceiling. My mind was racing, but I felt cleansed. Happy. Ready to write. But the words didn’t belong to the unfinished manuscript about the mountain man on my laptop. They belonged to something else. Another love story. Ours. A tale of friends to lovers. A man crippled with fear about loving again. A story about overcoming despair. Not allowing the past to dictate the future. Redemption and triumph. What better love story than that?

Our love story was the ultimate romance novel inspiration.

I felt the mattress shift as I thought through the chapters, how I was going to outline it, wondering how the epilogue would wonderfully round off the story, when I felt his arm around my waist.

‘Merry Christmas,’ he said, pulling me into him. I felt his hardness against me.

‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Don’t do that,’ he moaned as I circled my hips. ‘That’s not going to help me, is it?’

‘You’re rampant,’ I replied, smiling against the pillow.

‘For you.’ He teased his thumb across my nipple and my whole body ached for him.

‘I’ve asked Gerry if I can stay another month. He wants to run it past the owner and I said I’m not sure if he’s going to agree…’

‘Done deal,’ he said, sliding his cock into me.

‘Ah…’

‘What?’ he said, teasing the pace. ‘Does that feel good?’

‘So good.’ He slid slowly, drawing out the pleasure of the first contact and letting it build. I gripped the pillow. ‘Jesus, I want to come.’

‘Already?’

‘As soon as you slid your cock into me.’

I heard him chuckle before that noise of fun and frivolity was replaced with a shuddering moan.

‘We have another month to do this,’ he said, pulling himself out of me, the tip still pressing my entrance, a brief reprieve before he pushed himself inside again. A delicious pattern I didn’t want to end.

‘Another month to get to know each other better,’ I said. ‘To get to know all of you.’

‘I know you, Cal.’ Another thrust. Right on the g-spot. ‘I fucking know you.’

‘What do you know?’ I whispered, closing my eyes, feeling the moment.

His hand slipped under my knee, pulling it back over his hip, exposing me completely as he fucked me relentlessly. The pace fast and frantic and threatening to tip me over the edge at any passing second. His finger circled my clit and I was there, panting into the pillow as my orgasm rumbled through me, finally letting loose, flooding my body with pleasure. He followed, shouting out, his thrusts getting shorter but not yet stopping as he tried to ride out the last moments of his release. He turned me towards him, both hands on my hips, a kiss to my nose and a deep sigh against my cheek. Sated and happy.

He was happy.

Finally, he was happy.

I brushed his hair back, smiled at his complete depletion and bit my lip. He returned a lazy smile and linked our fingers.

‘Tell me what you know, Drew Carolla,’ I asked again, not wanting to let his words slide away.

He closed his eyes, his sleepy smile getting bigger. ‘I know that I’m falling in love with you.’

I held in a gasp. Took hold of my elation. Chose my words carefully.

‘Are you scared?’

‘Terrified,’ he replied, his eyes still closed.

‘But what if you knew I was feeling the same way?’ I asked, stroking his face, enjoying the scruff against my fingers.

‘Even more so.’

He opened one eye, carefully judging my reaction, and when he saw that I was smiling, he kissed my hand.

‘Small steps,’ I said.

‘Small steps,’ he repeated.

‘I want to write,’ I said, picking out my notebook from the bedside drawer and pressing it against my mouth in contemplation.

‘That’s good,’ he replied. ‘Capture this feeling in words.’

‘Elation.’

‘Appreciation.’

‘Devotion,’ I said, kissing him.

He caught my hand. Studied it. Met his eyes with mine. ‘Infatuation.’

‘Great words,’ I replied.

He was so beautiful, even more so when he was open and exposed. He lay back, reaching his arms above him. I’d never seen him look quite so relaxed. It suited him.

‘Cal.’

‘Yes?’

‘I can’t imagine wanting to do this with anyone else,’ he said, still relaxed and beautiful.

‘What exactly are we doing?’ I whispered as I knelt next to him.

‘Taking risks.’

‘Thank you for risking everything for me,’ I replied, knowing his words meant everything to me because those words were the only Christmas present I was secretly longing for.

‘Is this a good time to give you your present?’ Drew asked as I dropped down on the sofa. He’d lit the fire, the Christmas tree lights were catching the bright colours of the baubles, reflecting them off the wall, and Archie was chewing on the bone I’d wrapped a bow around and left for him under the tree. The bow was demolished in 1.3 seconds, but the bone was holding its own. Christmas dinner was a triumph, an hour later—the dishes washed and put away—Drew still didn’t appear to have the onset of violent stomach cramps.

‘You got me a present?’ I asked as he handed me a box wrapped with paper covered in snowmen. There was a hole where his finger had gone through. As I reached for it, he pulled back.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Of course I got you a present. Are you trying to tell me you haven’t got me anything? Cal, Cal, Cal. I’m disappointed in you.’

‘Gimme,’ I replied, wiggling my fingers. I tore off the paper to reveal a block of wood. I held it up and pulled my eyebrows in as I studied it.

‘Turn it around,’ Drew said, rolling his eyes and turning it like a dice to show the words Writer’s Block. ‘Get it? Writer’s block. It’s a paperweight.’

‘I get it,’ I replied, nodding my head and breaking into a giggle. ‘Hilarious.’

He dramatically fell back on the sofa as I pushed his arm, narrowing my eyes.

‘I may have this too.’ He sat up, slid another gift along the cushion towards me and bit his lip. I looked at it and tried to stop my smile. Opening it carefully, pulling each edge apart and drawing my finger along the sticky tape, I held it up. It was a notebook, a beautiful deep purple with gold trim. My initials were at the bottom, and in the middle in swirling gold font it said, The past doesn’t have to define you. ‘Do you recognise the quote?’ Drew asked. I nodded, pressing my fingertips to my mouth and swallowing a sob. ‘When I first read it, there was something about those words that resonated with me. I’d been wrestling with my feelings towards you and all the bloody rules I’d drawn up for myself. Don’t get too close, keep your distance, protect yourself. Then I read this and thought, Why? Why was I doing that to myself? Why was I denying my life of happiness because of what happened before?’

I closed my eyes and felt a tear travel down my cheek. I nodded again. Unable to take in the rush of emotions because sitting at my feet was a gift I’d had made for Drew—a framed picture, silver trim, black writing.

The same quote.

‘Open this,’ I managed to say, handing him the gift and waiting as he pulled back the paper, much less delicately than me and propped up the frame on his knees. He looked shocked, bewildered, astounded that we had both picked out the same quote from one of my books, the same quote that I had written in my notebook while sitting on the bench on top of the hill overlooking Karensa and thinking about Drew. The quote I had written years ago about a fictitious man who couldn’t let go of the past to embrace his future. The same quote I couldn’t stop thinking about in relation to Drew.

‘Cal…I don’t know what to say.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that quote too. I don’t usually re-read my own books, but I looked up the original manuscript and wrote it in my notebook. I wasn’t sure if I was going to give it to you, but in the past few days, things have…changed. It felt right.’ He glanced at me, holding back his feelings with a drop of his eyes and a bite to his cheek. ‘Happy Christmas.’

‘You make all of this so worth it,’ he replied. ‘The fear, the despair, the cautiousness. They fall away. They keep falling away.’ I crawled over to him, straddling his legs, gasping when his hands clutched my behind as he brought me closer to him with one quick pull. Our bodies connected as our souls started intertwining too.

‘Let them fall,’ I replied, pressing my forehead against his, listening to the deep sigh in my ear. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’