She felt it before she saw it. Or more precisely, she slipped on it first and then bent down to inspect the purple piece of paper lying on the floor near her couch. She picked it up curiously and immediately recognised Emily's handwriting. What was it doing here in her room? Even though the piece of paper was folded in half, Gillian could make out that it must be Emily's letter to Santa Claus.

Cal had told her a couple of years ago that Emily still insisted on writing letters to Santa even though she no longer believed in him. Each year she wrote a list but instead of carrying it to the post office with Cal, she just left it somewhere for him to take. When Cal had asked her why she didn't just tell him what she wanted for Christmas, she'd just shrugged her shoulders claiming tradition and that it was more fun this way. And far be it from Cal to stop his daughter from something she clearly enjoyed. Instead he turned around and went to Gillian to gush about his adorable daughter and her quirky behaviour. The letter in her hands was just exactly the way Cal had described them over the years, coloured paper – purple was en vogue this season apparently – decorated with glitter and star stickers. It was a bit crumpled and Gillian realised that Cal must have been carrying it around with him for days. It must have fallen out of his pocket last night. Gillian was just about to get an envelope and put the unread letter in to give it back to Cal, respecting Emily's personal space, when another slip of paper slid out between the folds of Emily's letter.

She couldn't keep her eyes off it when she spotted her name in Cal's familiar scrawl, and had to read the whole thing. She'd worry about violating Cal's privacy later, after all, it was a letter to Santa, so how personal could it be?

Dear Santa,

So we meet again. No doubt you are enjoying your triumph over my weak willpower in your grotto at the Northpole or wherever you are. But let's be honest, we're both adults now and desperate times call for desperate measures. And really, I am sorry for kneeing you in the groin back then and I do understand that you cannot make little girls kiss boys against their will, not even Christie McPherson. I admit that was totally uncalled for on my part and must have hurt like a son of a bitch, but in my defence, I was only eight years old and I reallyliked Christie McPherson.

As you've probably guessed the reason I'm writing you again is another girl. But she's nothing like Christie McPherson. And she already likes me! We've been friends for almost ten years now. And I'm not even asking you to make her kiss me (though that would be fanbloodytastic and I would definitely not complain! and you'd totally redeem yourself for the Christie McPherson kiss fiasco). All I want is, well, Gillian for Christmas. Gillian Foster, that is, and if you do indeed keep a naughty and nice list, you'll find her straight at the top. Because she's an angel, my Gill, and quite possibly the nicest person you'll ever find on this planet. She's nothing short of perfect. She's the bee's knees. And I love her, Santa. I wish I could tell her that but I don't know if she likes me this way and I've been very rude to her lately (Oh yeah, in case you don't remember, this is Cal Lightman – I'm a naughty one so you better look for my name at the bottom of your list). I don't deserve her but I really do love her. And not in the school boy crush kind of way with Christie McPherson. Sure, my heart skips a beat when I see her first thing in the morning and my mood lifts a little when she comes into my office for a little pudding and chit chat break (though you can't tell her that because I have reputation to keep!). But it's more than that. I've known her for ten years and we've been through thick and thin and she's still my best friend. No, I love her in a it breaks my heart kind of way when I see her with other men because I know they won't make her happy but I can't say anything because I have to respect that bloody line of hers! And I would so love to try and be the man that makes her happy, even though I know I'm going to screw things up between us but I want her to know that I'll always be there and I'll always love her even when she's been hurt and thinks she's the worst person on the planet. The other guys just don't care about her the way I do. And I can't even go and break their legs for breaking her heart because she wouldn't condone that and rip me a new one. See? Clearly, I need help!

So yeah this is about another girl, but this is the right one, Santa. I know it. Someone once asked me to describe my ideal woman and I realised I could describe her until the cows come home and none of it would matter unless I were her ideal man. So what I'm really wishing for this Christmas is that I'm Gillian's ideal man. If you could just help me help her see that… maybe you could spike her eggnog with some special Christmas magic that would cause a temporary lapse in judgement…I'll take it from there. All I want is a chance to prove to her that I'm worthy of her love… if she loves me at all. I promise I won't screw this one up, well, at least I'll try. All I need is a chance, so please, Santa, make me Gillian's ideal man.

Sincerely,

Cal Lightman

P.S. Also, I am still waiting for the train set I asked for when I was five. I was very polite and even mailed you a picture of the right set. But I'm willing to forget this little oversight of yours as well if you grant me my current wish.

She knew it. She'd always known that deep down Cal was a romantic at heart. He was a little rough around the edges but at the core he was big and cuddly teddy bear. If he was a diamond, he'd fought over by jewellers around the world. He must have been considerably intoxicated to sit down and write to a fictional figure he'd always derided. Either that, or he was literally doing anything to desperately avoid finishing his book. Judging from the lack of punctuation, spelling mistakes and grammatical errors it was probably the former.

Gillian took in a sharp breath. She felt like she'd read his secret diary. He loved her. She read it again, just to make sure she hadn't imagined things, but these words in Cal's familiar scrawls let her heart flutter. It all made sense now. Last night, his visit, the book, the letter… it was all for her. It had always been her. Only her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes. She had no idea his feelings for her ran so deep. He obviously didn't want her to know or he would have told her last night. Maybe he didn't know how to tell her and was dropping hints all around him instead? He must have been carrying this letter around with him for days, if not weeks, judging by its crumpled nature. Oh God, she had violated his personal space in the worst possible way! He was going to kill her! He'd tried to act so casual about their commitment to each other in the morning, he must feel really vulnerable right now. Maybe he just wasn't ready to say it out loud? Maybe he still feared her rejection. She hadn't shown any signs of saying it out loud, either. But couldn't he read it on her face? Feel it in her touch? See it in her eyes? That he'll be the only one for her for the rest of her life?

The doorbell rang and shook her out of her reverie. She quickly brushed her tears aside and stuffed the letters in her back pocket. Suddenly she was glad she hadn't bothered to put any make up on or she'd be a mess. Bless Cal for making an off-handed comment about how much he liked her natural beauty last night, especially the freckles on her face without any make up on. Oh God, how was she supposed to act? What should she say? She wasn't supposed to know! She should have never read the bloody letter. He hadn't even given her the manuscript to read.

A loud knock accompanied by a worried, "Gill?" reminded her that he was still standing outside and she couldn't keep him waiting forever. And then suddenly she knew what she had to do. He loved her and nothing else mattered. He'd understand, he loved her. And to think she'd felt bad about not having gotten a gift for him, when all she had to do was give herself to him to make his wildest dreams come true! She flung the door open and launched herself into his arms. There was no stopping her anymore, they'd wasted too much time and danced around each other for too long. It was time to make nails with heads and if he was too scared to take the first step, she would. He'd been so startled by her outburst she immediately took advantage of his slightly agape mouth and slipped her tongue inside. Instinctively he pulled her a little closer, wrapping his arms around her back. Gillian's fingers had disappeared into his hair, pressing his head forward while her tongue danced hungrily around his.

He seemed taken by surprise a little bit and stepped back instinctively. "Wow! What did I do to earn this welcome?"

"I love you, too, you idiot!" The words bubbled out before she knew what she was saying. The idiot bit at the end might have been a bit unnecessary. He blinked his eyes at her blankly, she better kiss him again to drive her point across but he caught and stopped her.

"Oi! If that makes you cry love, we're in trouble!"

She shook her head and pressed her forehead against his. "I love you and you don't have to say it back if you're not ready but I want you to know that I love you and that nobody makes me happy like you do."

What the hell had happened in the few hours he'd been gone? And then suddenly his common sense kicked in. She'd just told him she loved him. Quick say something. Tell her you love her, too. Wait a moment, didn't she say she loved him too. He was pretty sure he hadn't said it last night because that would have been totally inappropriate. He didn't know much about women and understood even less about them, but even he had learned the hard way that you didn't tell a woman you loved her while you were trying to get into her pants. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment to tell her. Lay his heart bare before her, for Gillian to take.

"I…" Why wouldn't the words come across his lips? "What's with the tears, love?"

"They're happy tears, Cal, because you've touched my heart like no one else ever has", Gillian stressed and she ran her fingers through his hair on the back of his head. Cal closed his eyes in pleasure. It felt so good when she did that to him. He mentally shook his head, he had to get to the bottom of what had upset Gillian so much. He focused back on Gillian who continued, "You left your gift and…."

"You opened it, huh?" And suddenly he felt insecure again, "Did you like it? I wasn't sure you'd like it. I wanted to give it to you at the office party but then you got that bloody snow globe from Anna and I just knew I'd look so stupid with my gift and then I thought on my way back home maybe I'll drop it off at your place and then I forgot about it because you kissed me and I kissed you and one thing led to another…" Gillian pressed her lips firmly against his mouth to stop Cal from talking.

"It was the best Christmas gift I've ever received, Cal!" She hugged him tightly and mumbled against his skin, as she pressed her face deeper into his neck. She inhaled deeply, soaking up his scent. He smelled so good, a barely perceptible hint of aftershave; the rest was pure Cal Lightman.

Fingers. Hair. Lips. Cal's mind shut down. He kissed her passionately back as if his life depended on it. How was it possible that he craved her sweet lips like a parched soul chasing after a mirage in the desert after only one night with her?

"I take it you like it then?" Cal queried and a smile broke out on his face when he saw Gillian's beaming face. "I didn't really know what to get you and I tried really hard. You have no idea. I wanted to get you something special. You can ask Emily. I dragged her across the malls of Maryland and Virginia. I just couldn't find the right thing for you. I've been awful to you and you don't deserve it and I couldn't find the right words to apologise…" Cal blabbed on until Gillian put her finger across his lips.

"You're talking too much, Cal. Again." She returned his sheepish smile. "I get it. I really do."

"I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me because I really need you in my life Gill. I would be nothing without you."

"The shoebox…" Gillian realised and smiled. He beamed at her pleased she'd gotten his metaphor.

"Because we'd still be working out of a shoebox in my kitchen, if it weren't for you." Cal nodded with a grin. He rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, too, Gillian. I just didn't know how to tell you, so I thought I'd write it down…"

"It's ok, Cal. I know. I found your letter."

"No it's not ok because I want to tell you. I love you, Gillian. I love you so much it hurts to see you with other men. I can't go on the way we've been. It hurts me to see you sad and it devastated me to know that I was the cause over the past months. Say you'll forgive me, yeah? Let's start over. Let's do it right, huh? No more lies, no more lines." He looked deeply into her eyes and groaned, "Oh god, here we go again, let me guess…happy tears?" Cal queried hopefully. She nodded. "Please, love, stop. It's all right. We're all right."

She bit her lower lip and hugged Cal tightly, "Then stop making me cry, Cal." He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see him. "And stop rolling your eyes at me."

"Oi!" Cal withdrew slightly from the embrace to watch her face, "So it's my fault now, that you're such a cry-baby?"

She nodded, "Of course; for someone who's not really good with words, you have an uncanny ability to say the sweetest things at the right time." She kissed him softly but Cal turned the heat up a notch. But then he suddenly broke the kiss and looked at her dumbfounded, "Wait a moment, what letter?"

Gillian stepped back and pulled the letters out of her pocket. When Cal recognised Emily's purple paper, he instinctively reached for the back pocket of his jeans but found it empty. He must have lost it last night. If the coat hadn't buffered his pat in the car, he would've realised back then that he'd lost Emily's Christmas letter.

"I can explain, Gill. She doesn't know what she says sometimes. You know my daughter; Em just likes to rattle my chains." He gently pushed her inside because the cold was slowly getting to him and Gillian wasn't dressed up warm like he was and he didn't want her to catch a cold. Besides, he'd rather talk about this with her quietly without the prying eyes of his daughter.

"Emily?"

Cal nodded and they both stared at the purple paper in her hands. Gillian shook her head slowly, "Cal, I didn't read Emily's letter. I'd never betray her privacy like that. I read yours!" That didn't come out any better.

Cal rose his eyebrows questioningly first at her admission that she had no qualms about violating his privacy but his daughter's was apparently sacrosanct. And then it dawned on him what she was referring to. He'd read Emily's letter late one night, after she'd gone to bed while he was brooding over his typewriter. He'd gone to pick up the plate of cookies and the glass of milk she'd left for "Santa" and scanned it. His throat dried up and he almost choked on the cookies, when he'd read her words. He returned the milk and cookies back to the kitchen and switched them for a fifth of scotch. He sat down and read Emily's letter to Santa, that is, to himself, again, but more carefully this time. No, his mind was not playing tricks on him. She'd really asked the impossible of him. Suddenly the Christmas where he had to relay the bad news from Santa to a five-year-old Emily that a pony could not live in her bedroom, even if she fed it daily, seemed like a walk in the park. She couldn't be serious, could she? He drank another fifth of scotch and another one and slightly tipsy pulled the empty leaf of paper out of the typewriter and started to scribble down his own letter to Santa. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to finally settle things for once and for all with the old fat man in a furry red suit…

His eyebrows creased into a deep furrow, which Gillian had absolutely no problem interpreting as a clear sign of worry. "Oh God, no! I'd completely forgotten I still had that one. Oh God, Gill, I was so drunk when I wrote that one."

"I've gathered that much", she looked at him slightly scolding. He shouldn't be drowning his sorrows so much in alcohol. "But you know what they say… drunks and children tell the truth…"

"Isn't that children and fools speak the truth?" He stepped in closer and trailed off.

"Same difference." She challenged him.

"Yeah, I suppose in my case that's the truth." he looked deeply into her eyes, "I really do love you, Gill, with all my heart. I meant it – every word I said…" He cringed, "Even if I don't clearly remember what I wrote." He leaned in and gave her a sweet but rather chaste kiss. When he pulled back, he saw something flicker across her eyes that had him instantly worried. "There. What was that?"

Gillian looked up at his panic stricken voice. "What was what?"

"That thought you just had! What did I do?"

"It's nothing, Cal", she started to brush aside her insecurities but then forged on with new-found strength, "no that's not true. I was worried, Cal. You're an hour late, what happened?" She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice so it wouldn't sound like an accusation to him.

"It's not what you think", Cal started immediately and led her into her living room. "Emily and I…well…" Cal sighed and motioned for her to sit down. "Things got a bit complicated."

"What happened? Did you and Zoë have a fight?" Did she sound relieved at the prospect that Cal and Zoë might have sparred verbally again? Oh my god, she felt like such a horrible person! "She's going to have a fit when she reads the book."

"Yes, but…" Cal sighed again and sat down next to her, "that's not really the problem. I made sure her chapter was longer than yours." Cal grinned.

"I don't understand, Cal?"

"We're late because I'm a horrible father and I hurt Emily and I had to fix that first."

"What did you do, Cal?" She looked at him sternly but the self-deprecating tone in Cal's voice had her more concerned than angry with him.

"It's not so much what I did do but what I didn't do." Cal let himself fall against the back of her couch. "I deceived her, well not really, but… you were right all along, of course, this constant back and forth between me and Zoë was really bad for Emily. Em realised tonight that we're not a family anymore."

"That's nonsense, Cal, of course you are a family!" Gillian interjected immediately. She didn't understand. What had happened? An hour ago Cal had shared with her that Emily was already ringing wedding bells and now she thought they weren't a family anymore?

"No, let me explain. Emily eavesdropped on us when I broke up with Zoë tonight." When she looked at him confused he explained, "Don't get upset but Zoë tried to put her moves on me so I told her she can't do that anymore because I'm together with you now."

Gillian started to check him for injuries worriedly. Cal laughed, as she gently patted his head to feel for bumps and flesh wounds. He caught her hands, "I'm fine. No dishes were thrown tonight, though I did get slapped once or twice – I've lost count over the years." He grinned and gave her a soft peck, "On our way over to your place Emily opened up to me about how hurt and upset she was. It just poured out, one thing after another, and I had to comfort her and I couldn't call. And we were already tardy because of the fight with Zoë. I'm sorry I didn't call to let you know what's going on. Poor thing was so confused and upset."

"It's ok." She ran her left hand through his temples and Cal nuzzled his face into her hand.

"Gill?" He peered up and when she acknowledged him with a soft "hm" he continued, "Promise me you won't doubt my fidelity. You know, I never betrayed Zoë, and I don't plan on doing that to you. I'm not going back to Zoë."

She pulled her hand back embarrassed she'd been so easy to read. She wanted to reprimand him for reading her again but he looked so tired. "Call next time, ok? I pictured you and Emily lying half dead at the roadside."

He nodded, "Gill, are we ok?"

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him softly, "Yeah. Is Emily ok with us, though?"

He smiled. She couldn't help herself. Always thinking of others before her own needs or desires. "Yeah, we talked. I think she'd just bottled everything up inside and had to get it out."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded and reached for the purple letter Gillian still clutched in her right hand. "If you don't believe me, trust her." She looked at him, insisting that she couldn't violate Emily's privacy. "Go on. She wouldn't mind, I'm sure", he encouraged her, "Go on, read it". Gillian unfolded the letter and read what the teenager wanted for Christmas.

Dear Santa,

Dear Dad,

Let's cut the bullshit this year. I won't pretend you're Santa and I won't write you a long Christmas list of things I want but don't actually need. I worry about you, dad. You really have to get your act together or I won't be able to go to college with a clear conscience and some peace of mind. Maybe that's been your plan all along to keep me close by but I've got news for you, dad. I'll be leaving for college in a year whether you like it or not and the only difference it makes is whether I can concentrate on my classes or whether I'll be preoccupied with concerns about you. Don't you want to make leaving home even a tad little bit easier for me?

If you had someone who makes you happy, I wouldn't have to worry about you moping around the house alone. I've got nightmares of you clutching my teddy bear, weeping and sleeping in my bed once I'm gone because the loneliness will overwhelm you. That's very creepy and totally freaking me out, so please FIND SOMEONE WHO MAKES YOU HAPPY!

Seriously, dad, you have to. It's the only thing I want this Christmas. I think you and I know who it is but even if Gillian is not the right one for you, you have to promise me that you will keep looking for someone nice, for something stable. Someone better than Clara or Shazzer or that jewel thief Loker told me about. And unless you tell her, Gillian will never know you love her, so what the hell are you waiting for? And don't give me that crap about Gillian and you being "just friends". You're hopelessly in love with her and the sooner you admit it to yourself the better off we all will be. You dragged me through dozens of malls in the tri-state area in order to find "the perfect gift" for Gillian. Have you ever thought that you might be the perfect gift for her? If you wait any longer you run the risk that she wakes up and realises that all the great guys out there are still available and she will leave you. Do you really want another Dave? Dad, you were miserable when she was seeing him. The signs are clear and they're all pointing in one direction, and that is that you love Gillian Foster and it's about damn time you told her or showed her or let her read it on your face muscles or whatever it is you do. Just DO something! Before you're too late…

I love you,

Emily

P.S. I know we said we'd do gift cards but… DSW has some really cute and super comfy snow boots in my size. They're from baretraps, the model is Elicia, the brown ones to lace up, and I need a size 7½. There I wrote it all down for you, you can't go wrong with this one! So now you have something to put underneath the Christmas tree, since you can't very well kidnap Gill and wrap her up and leave her there.

Gillian looked up into Cal's eyes. That was quite possibly the sweetest thing she'd ever read.

"She really loves you, you know" Cal assured her, "I think if there's anyone in the world she could pick for me it would be you. Actually I think it's gonna make the transition easier for Emily because I'm seeing you and not some stranger she might feel threatened by. We'll just take it slow, ok?"

"I'd like that. A lot actually. And not just because of Emily."

Cal nodded, "Are you ready for the Lightman Christmas Extravaganza?"

Gillian chuckled, "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good, then let's get going before my daughter turns into an icicle." Cal pushed himself off the couch and held his hand out to pull up Gillian.

Gillian gasped shocked, "Oh my God, Cal. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot about Emily waiting in the car."

"It's okay, some females eat their young!' Cal deadpanned and Gillian slapped his shoulder.

Cal smiled at her reassuringly, "She's a big girl. I'm sure she knows how to turn on the heat, if she freezes." He picked up Gillian's bag and grabbed her hand, then they walked over to the car. Cal stowed the bag in the trunk, while Gillian opened the door to the passenger seat.

"Hi, Gillian" Emily greeted from the backseat, "did you have a nice Christmas Eve?"

Gillian shut the door with a shocked jar, unsure as to the nature of Emily's question. How much had Cal shared with his daughter on the way over? The older woman glanced at the younger girl through the rear view mirror and decided that it was intended as an innocent, polite and genuine inquiry.

"Yes. Your father stopped by and we watched some of the movies he got from Loker, I mean his Secret Santa."

"Gill?"

"Yeah?"

The tone in Emily's voice and the knowledge that the teenager was upset earlier about her parents breaking up for good made Gillian turn her head around and gaze intently at the teenager. Emily stared back unsure of what to say. She was pretty sure, the reason her father had shoved Gillian inside was her little break out earlier, to warn Gillian that she might be difficult over the holidays and give her an out in case she didn't want to deal with temper tantrums.

"I'm glad it's you."

"Thank you, Emily." Gillian smiled affectionately, "You know I'm not going to replace your mom."

"Yeah…whatever Dad told you inside…it's really not that big a deal. I guess I freaked him out a little bit earlier. I don't even know where it came from."

"Emily, don't ever apologise for how you feel, ok?" The younger girl nodded. "And promise me that if you ever feel uncomfortable with anything you tell your father. Or you'll come to me. We've always been good friends, haven't we? That's not going to change because I'm seeing your dad. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in your own home."

"Nah, I'm fine as long as you two don't play tonsil hockey in front of me." Emily grinned and Gillian shook her head. Of course, Emily would enjoy teasing her and Cal about the new romance in his life.

"Got it! No kissing in front of you." Gillian held up her hands in a scout gesture and decided to play the girl's game. "What about holding hands?"

Emily pretended to think for a minute, "Holding hands is ok, I guess. Hugs too, of course."

"Great, I like hugging your dad. He gives great big and comfortable bear hugs."

"I know. And he does that little grunt-moan thingy when he squeezes you." Emily grinned. Oh this would be great, she finally had someone to gossip about her father.

"Right." Gillian laughed.

Cal chose that moment to open the car door and watch the giggling women in his car. "Oi! You two've been talking about me, haven't you?"

"No", Emily and Gill chorused and broke out into another fit of laughter.

"I knew this was a mistake", Cal grumbled as he got behind the wheel and started the engine. He shook his head as he put in the reverse and slowly rolled down Gillian's drive way.

"Oh don't be such a Grinch, where's your Christmas spirit, Cal?" Gill leaned over the middle console and rested her chin on Cal's shoulder. He stopped and looked at the sweet face peering up at him.

He leaned down for a quick peck, "Right there," another peck, "Right there it is."

Emily grinned smugly from her backseat. Those two were just too cute together. Those fifty bucks were so hers. She'd give them a year at best before they tied the knot. They were just adorable and so perfect for each other. When the adults broke apart and Cal pulled out into the road, she pulled herself into the middle space between the two front seats and called over their shoulders, "So … can I call you mom now?"

"Emily!" Cal and Gillian shouted simultaneously. Gillian whipped her head around and stared at the teenager in shock. Cal, who had to concentrate on the road, sent a sharp look into the rear view mirror telling his daughter to drop it.

"Gotcha!" A feral grin spread on the young girl's face.

"Em!" Cal said in a warning tone and groaned inwardly, knowing Emily was going to have her sweet little fun all week long torturing them with cheeky comments. And he was willing to take anything she threw at him as long as Gillian wouldn't get hurt in the process. His daughter couldn't know how touchy a subject motherhood was when it came to Gillian. He chanced a glance at Gillian who winked at him amused at his daughter's teenage antics. As a psychologist she knew all too well, that Emily would not leave out any chance presented over the holidays to get a rise out of him. Especially considering the relationship Cal and his daughter had.

"Just yankin' your chains." Emily proved their point and fell back into her seat with a satisfied smile, enjoying the adults squirming uncomfortably in their front seats. Mission accomplished. Who would have thought she'd spend her Christmas break with her father and Gillian together as a couple? This was going to be a great holiday.

And people said miracles happened no longer on Christmas!

The End.

For now.

Or is it?

A/N: I want to thank everyone who's read and reviewed this story. This was a first for me because I incorporated some of the feedback I got and adjusted the story accordingly. I've never done that before and since I usually write my stories out completely before I post them, unfortunately it meant that large parts of this story had to be written, which resulted in longer draughts in between chapters (never mind the times when I can't connect to the fanfiction net server). Zoë's and Emily's reaction was one such afterthought - the final scene was one of the first I'd written for that story and I liked it so much I couldn't part with it, so I had to make Emily's transition believable and fit her insecurities organically into the overall story structure. This story was in many ways an experiment. I'm really glad the book chapter received such fantabulous feedback from so many people because this one had me worried the most because I was worried it departed too much from Cal's character. The drunk Christmas letter seemed so much more like him, don't you agree? I wanted to be original and fluffly and funny but not do the same Cal and Gill fall in love underneath the Christmas tree and live happily ever after story that's been done before - and while I'm sure a lot of people have had Cal gift Gillian his book for Christmas in their stories, I don't think anyone ever delved into his mind so deeply to actually try to write a chapter in his character. Anyways, I hope I did the characters justice and my secret santa is pleased with the final result - and if y'all were entertained in the process all the better for it. Thanks for bearing with me in this endeavour.