«Merry Christmas in July, Miss Fisher», said Jack by the door, hat in hand after everybody had gone away and he was the only guest left. His tone was sort of sorrowful, a change especially noticeable after the amiable one that permeated his voice during that evening. True to character, he hadn't been very expansive, but it had been difficult to not get enveloped by the joyous mood everyone was in, now that the mysteries had been solved and there weren't any more bodies to store in the cool room.

«Merry Christmas in July, Jack», replied Phryne, equally wistful, leaning on the open door. She was sad to see him go like this. Ever since Aunt P had shifted attention from the kiss Jane had so vehemently demanded through mistletoe to singing Christmas carols that she wanted to have a chance to talk to him more privately. If it hadn't happen, she wouldn't have kissed him, not in the way she wanted to, at least, but still. Teasing him was something she could deny that she liked to do, but embarrassing him like that – she was sure he would have gotten so embarrassed he would have gotten even quieter and the tip of his ears would have reddened so much it would seem blood had left every part of his body – wasn't something she would put him through.

Jack stood in silence for one or two seconds more, smiling very weakly at her and having a hard time knowing where to look (her face wasn't an that much of an option because it was almost too painful doing so and not kissing her). He knew he had to leave, especially now that he had sort of bid his goodbye, but he didn't seem to be able to do so. Every time he thought now I really have to go it was as if his feet had their own willpower and refused to take him away from that house, away from her.

Phryne was slightly more at ease but not much. Not only was she smiling at him, but she was also looking at him, trying to silently make him stay a little bit longer, now that the party and the usual nightcap weren't an excuse anymore.

Until that moment, in any circumstances had she had any problem in inviting him for another glass of whiskey, but today she didn't seem to find the strength needed to bring herself to do it.

Every sign his behaviour gave her made Phryne sure that he didn't want to go away as much as she wished him to say, but their relationship had never been so strained as it was now. At first sight, it might seem that they had come a very long way from finding that they were getting on each other's nerves with persistent annoyance to now seeing themselves not only as equals but as friends, something that had gotten very complicated by all that tension that kept them always on their toes, that prodded them to take some liberties they wouldn't otherwise dare to and to tease each other almost permanently.

Phryne never regretted it and if she wasn't certain of Jack's intelligence, the way he seemed to overlook her elegant innuendos and actions would have lead her to believe he had to be rather clueless or a terrible emotional reader who ended up corresponding well to everything by sheer chance. If her certainty weren't so unwavering, she would have given up long ago, unwilling to devote much effort and thought to a hopeless case.

Jack, on his side, had to exert himself a great deal in order to be able to look as unaffected as he did most of the time. Had he wished Miss Fisher to go back to England in the first times she waltzed into his cases with the ease and grace of a tornado? Of course. It had happened in every occasion that soft cloud of perfume and the rustling of her clothes announced her even before he set eyes on her. Back then, he was still reeling not only from the war and from the consequences of it that still resounded with him after a decade but was also trying to deal with a marriage that had stopped being one many years ago. His job had become his refuge, something he could pour his mind and energy into unapologetically, getting some solace and repairing his pride and self-esteem through being valued as a diligent and outstanding professional in return.

As time went by, his work was still the main motor of his life, but he had found himself more open to care about the people around him, something that he had had to acknowledge as being the byproduct of their interactions - in order to be able to answer to her banter and to be a step ahead of her in the investigation (in those first months, there weren't many things he hated as much as when she arrived quicker to the answers they were both looking for; solving those murders was his life's work, the only thing he had left ), he had had to get out of his head more often than what had happened before her arrival. It didn't meant that he had gotten incompetent but it couldn't be denied that it was as if he had realised again that other people were as real and human as him, something he had seemed to forget a long time ago.

Truth be told, all that bad blood between them seemed that it had taken place in another incarnation, if he were a man to believe in that sort of things, because now he couldn't imagine his days without seeing her, without her witty replies, without her acute conclusions. But as important as all of this, he couldn't imagine himself without what she had turned him into or had helped him find in himself: keener, more generous and not taking himself so seriously were the first things he could think of but there were only examples of that broader sense of him he had gotten aware of lately. Being without her would make him revert to square one and break down worse than what he had before.

In the beginning even her beauty seemed to exist with the only purpose of bothering him, but now he was still taken aback by her blue vivid eyes, by her well-drawn mouth, by her royal-like features and her delicate frame, which didn't seem big enough to contain all the mental and physical strength he knew she was capable of.

Nevertheless, as time passed, what he found even more striking than her looks was her intelligence, her sharp attentive mind and how, despite everything that had taken place in her life, she still managed to be able to let herself go, to abandon all reserves and live like she wanted instead of how people wished her to.

Not in purpose, they sighed at the same time. Despite the differences in the motives that made them keep each other at arm's length when it came to their feelings, they were both ardently wanting that kiss that had been so close to happening and that promised to be a stand-in for all the kisses that hadn't happened between that lonely one a long time ago (too much time ago) «for safety reasons» and that moment, where all the expectation seemed to be too heavy and painful to bear.

Phryne would have leaned in and kissed him right there and right in that minute if not for the threat looming from the kitchen, where Aunt P was talking to Mr. Butler about the magnificent banquet he had prepared that evening, worthy enough of being praised in light of her exquisite taste. Aunt's timing when it came to Phryne and Jack had become so uncomfortably precise, she almost regretted having had invited her to stay at the house. With her so close by, Phryne wouldn't tempt fate again. She was too fond of her aunt to want to get mad at her as she knew she would if another interruption of the sort happened.

Phryne and Jack hadn't overcome the weight of having to face the powerful force of their feelings for each other and the pain and the turmoil brought by their veiled confession of said feelings to be left now on the edge like that. It couldn't be.

She was about to open her mouth and speak but he did so first.

«I hope to see you very soon, Miss Fisher.»

At that stage, Jack seemed to be less interested on losing time, although he still clung to some shyness, as if he were afraid of making all that achingly real by its acknowledgement, by putting it blatantly in the open, by laying his heart at her heart.

» It was a very enjoyable evening. Thank you for having me.»

She was very surprised by his sudden formality. Jack had always been very polite, but something else seemed to underline those words.

«I couldn't have it any other way, Jack.»

Since her feelings for him had shifted, many months ago, Phryne had struggled with probably having to find a balance between her will and like for freedom and the perspective of attaching herself to a man in particular. She was certain Jack knew there wasn't any use in trying to make her settle, in trying to bind her or to make her comply with what was expected of women, because it would only cause her to stray further away. But how would his somewhat open-mindedness deal with her physical desire and curiosity for other people? That was something that – unlike plenty of other facts brought up that evening – she wasn't sure of. Jack had a very strong sense of loyalty that she could see clashing with an arrangement like that, with the subtleties and compromises it could entail. Phryne even understood why, but she was obligated to herself to meet the terms of her wants and needs. She was generous enough to sacrifice some things for others but asking something like that of her demanded that she had to be "regretlessly " willing to do it. She liked to consider that she knew herself well enough but Phryne couldn't in conscience say that the way she felt towards desire and love, in what brought these concepts together or set them apart, would or wouldn't change if she ever were in a conventional relationship with Jack.

Regardless of her hesitations and fears, there were some moments where Phryne yearned for being in a position where she had to face them. She knew she could love Jack (if she didn't already) and it would also mean that that uncertainty that was almost killing them had been left behind and they were then doing their best to be together successfully, considering how different from each other they were, something none of them was naïve enough to try to ignore.

Nonetheless, at the same time, she admired him a great deal for putting himself in second and being available to suffer instead of trying to change her or (worse for both of them because only resentment could come of something like that) to put her in debt with him if she ever tried to change despite the fact that he hadn't asked her to do so. He was willing to be stoic and yet without tipping into martyrdom.

«Ja…»

«Good…»

They had talked at the same time. Phryne had meant to call his name but his disappointed goodnight had gotten in the way.

«I'm sorry, Miss Fisher. Please continue… you were saying?»

«Nothing of importance, Jack. Just goodnight.»

His shoulders sagged a bit but he brushed his disappointment off by putting his hat on.

» I see you still wear it», she said, regarding the hat she had gifted him some weeks ago.

«I do, I do. Thank you once again.»

Jack smiled at her genuinely. In both their minds, flashed the memory of another failed kiss, after she had put it on his head and had rearranged the lapels of his jacket. Perhaps it was wishful thinking alone, but Jack thought he could still feel Phryne's fingers running down his chest, the electric touch even above all those layers of fabric.

«You're welcome.»

Normally, a humorous comeback would have been called for, but for some reason it didn't feel right, so Phryne answered that simply.

«Goodnight, Miss Fisher.», said he eventually.

«Goodnight, Jack. I hope to see you very soon too.»

He nodded and looked at her once more before taking a deep breath and turning to the street, very quiet at that hour of the night.

Phryne stood by the doorframe, watching him go down the three steps and walk down the tiled path.

He looked back a couple of times and smiled. It seemed easier, now that they weren't so close, despite the fact that his heart felt very heavy. She waved back every time, which seemed to increase the feeling of impatience that she had been dealing with for the majority of the evening.

Jack seemed to have some trouble opening the gate and Phryne was growing restless. Not because of the stuck gate but because of how watching him from afar doing something so simple as that seemed to highlight how much she cared for him, loved him even.

Meanwhile, Jack had passed the gate and was on his way to his motorcar.

Phryne ran out the house faster than what she thought of doing it, yet graciously as she always moved.

When she reached Jack, he was by the vehicle about to open the door.

«Miss F.…», he said, surprised but very glad, when he turned to where the sound of steps had come from, not having the time to say anything more because as soon as Phryne got close, she kissed him passionately, putting her arms around his neck afterwards, not wanting to let him get away again.

At first, Jack was very startled, even if it was true that her actions were the materialization of something he had wished to do all night and yet had been too coward to act on, but as soon as the initial shock wore off, he let himself go, kissed her back and held her close. If he had had the time, he would have chastised himself for having hesitated so much, would have had hard time believing it was all taking place at last, needing to pinch himself in order to know he wasn't dreaming. But that could only happen if he weren't so enthralled by her kiss, by her soft lips, by her perfume, by finally having her in his arms like that. Phryne was the pinch.

When they couldn't avoid having to breathe any longer, she pulled away from him just a bit. They weren't kissing anymore but were still close enough for their noses to touch. She looked into his eyes. He smiled at her, completely at ease now. She gave him a quick kiss.

« I think it's time you start calling me Phryne, Jack.»