Page 64 of All the Gossip from Paris
It was close to three in the morning by the time the four of them returned to the chateau. Sophie was more than ready for bed. But she was also determined to follow Christmas traditions. And that meant eating some of the Bûche de Noël before calling it a night.
They gathered around the bench in the kitchen. Sophie couldn’t bring herself to cut the cake, so Camille ended up wielding the knife. She gave everyone a generous slice. When they’d finished eating no one asked for a second helping.
“I’m going to have to go for a very long walk when I wake,” said Sophie.
“How are we going to get through all those courses of food we’re meant to be eating today? Aren’t you planning to cook a turkey with chestnut stuffing, Liam?” said Ryan.
That was the plan. If they were home in France for Christmas, then they were going all out. Which included a full day of eating. Sophie had already selected her favorite no-waistband dress for the day. Only amateurs and tourists wore anything which touched the sides for Le Réveillon.
“I won’t need to eat again until New Years Eve,” groaned Camille. “Though I could always find a little room for some salmon rillettes. Maybe one or two cheese puffs. Oh, and I saw chef had left us a box of stuffed mushrooms when I was in the cool room yesterday. It would be a shame to let them go to waste.”
Sophie and Liam both let out a laugh. “We found them, crisis averted,” said Sophie.
Liam set his plate on the bench. “Well, I’m calling shotgun on having the dog next to me during the day. Is there anything Rollo doesn’t eat?”
Sophie and Camille looked at one another and both shook their heads. Rollo, the shaggy haired Briard, was a bottomless pit when it came to food.
“All this talk of food is making me feel faint. I have to get out of this kitchen. How about we head upstairs to the family room, and exchange Christmas presents?” said Sophie.
She was eager to give Liam his gift. To help smooth things over with him after her earlier lapse in judgement.
They quickly cleared the plates away. Liam took hold of Sophie’s hand as they made their way up to the second floor of the chateau. The simple act of affection touched her heart. For a moment she imagined how happy she could be if every Christmas Eve was spent with him.
Liam had never been nervous about giving someone a gift before today. He could admit to feeling that emotion tonight. The present he’d carefully chosen for Sophie paled against the expensive bracelet she’d received from her ex. The second he set foot in the family room and spied his gift under the Christmas tree, he started mentally practicing his apologies.
The heady scent of fir filled the room. Liam wished his folks were here to enjoy it. While his mom loved a freshly cut tree, she’d long ago given up on having to clean away pine needles for weeks at a time every December. Brenda Collins was a firm convert to the world of artificial Christmas trees.
There was only a handful of gifts under the tree. Liam had assumed rich people would go all out during the festive season. Then he recalled Sophie having made mention of the ugly t-shirt gift giving tradition the Royal family observed every year.
If you could buy your own superyacht any day of the week, Christmas gift giving was rendered rather meaningless.
Hence the joke presents.
Ryan was duly appointed to act as Santa. He grumbled about not having a paunch or a beard. His protests soon fell silent when Camille noted that her Christmas belly was due to the baby he’d put there.
“Ok. Let’s see. This one is from Sophie to Camille. It’s heavy,” said Ryan, picking up the first of the wrapped presents.
His wife took her gift and eagerly attacked the wrapping paper. “Parfait! Tu me connais si bien,” she exclaimed, holding up the hard-backed book. “I keep trying to remember to go into central Paris and buy my big planner for next year. Thank you, Sophie. You are a genius.”
Ryan returned to the small pile of presents. “This one says Liam. It’s from Sophie.”
Liam’s hands were trembling as he accepted his gift. The parcel was soft. He hoped against hope that it wasn’t socks. Opening the paper, he found another piece of wrapping. This was plain silver paper. The sticker holding it together was marked with a horse and carriage emblem. He held his breath as he peeled back the sticker.
Inside was a scarf. But not just any old scarf. This was caramel with a chocolate checked pattern. The fabric was incredibly soft to the touch. The label on the underside read Celine. He might not know much about fashion, but even he’d heard of Celine.
“It’s cashmere—that’s why it’s so lovely to feel. I thought you might need something for the European winter. Just in case you are going to spend a bit more time here,” explained Sophie.
He caught the edge of nervousness in her voice. The hope. She wanted him to spend time here.
“That’s a generous gift Sophie. I don’t know what to say.”
She rose from her chair and came to sit beside him. Taking the scarf from the paper, Sophie wrapped it around Liam’s neck. Her deft threading of the lengths of the garment soon had it neatly tied.
“There. That’s how men in Paris wear their scarves.”
Their bodies were close. Surely, she could sense how hard his heart was beating. Liam swallowed deeply. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, cup her face in his hands, and kiss Sophie senseless.
“I love it. I’ll think of you whenever I wear it,” he said.
