A/N: Happy new year, all. And to thank you for your patience with this story, here are the final two chapters :) We hope you enjoy them.
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Chapter Two - December 24th
Gillian stood in front of her closet, various items of clothing discarded to the bed behind her.
She knew that dressing for dinner with Cal and Emily shouldn't be so difficult. She had done it a million times. But this felt different. Maybe it was the season; maybe it was her wish to Santa... Maybe she was reading far too much into it and needed to get a grip.
She turned around and surveyed the array of potential outfits that were strewn across her bed. Cal had called earlier, at Emily's insistence, to ensure that she knew that the dress code was 'casual'. He hadn't seen the importance of that information, but Gillian was glad to have it confirmed. How much harder this decision would have been if she'd had to wonder if they expected her to be dressed up or not.
Somewhere amongst the heap of items in front of her was the perfect combination for Christmas Eve dinner with the man she was secretly in love with and his daughter, whom she suspected was well aware of her secret.
With a sigh she rested her hands on her hips and studied the collection. Red. Red was a good colour for Christmas. That was a start, at least.
... ... ...
"Stop it," Cal insisted as Emily-for what seemed like the hundredth time-smoothed out a wrinkle in his shirt.
"You should have ironed this, Dad," Emily replied. "You look all rumply."
"It's just dinner, Em. We're not even going out."
"It's not just dinner-it's Christmas dinner. With Gillian, in case you've forgotten."
"I haven't. And it's Christmas Eve dinner."
"Dad!" she exclaimed, swatting his chest. "Just go put on something clean. Gillian will be here soon."
"Oi! This is clean," he argued, though he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't change shirts.
"Something not wrinkled!" she called out as he left the room.
... ... ...
A few minutes later, Gillian knocked on the door, and Emily rushed to let her in.
"Sorry I'm late," Gillian apologised, greeting Emily with a hug.
"You're right on time," Emily assured her. "The pie and rolls have a few minutes left, and Dad's still getting ready, anyway. Here, I'll take those," she said, reaching for the presents in Gillian's hands. "Take off your coat, and make yourself comfortable."
Gillian did as instructed then handed her coat and purse to Emily, who put them in the coat closet before moving to put the presents under the tree.
"You have a beautiful tree, Em," Gillian told her.
"Thanks. Dad didn't want a tree, but he came home one day and it was already up."
Gillian chuckled. "That sounds familiar."
Emily put the presents under the tree and told Gillian she would just let Cal know she was there. She swept upstairs and stopped outside Cal's room, where she knocked on the door. "Dad, Gillian's here!"
"I know," Cal said, flinging open the door.
She wasn't expecting him to be so close, and she yelped in surprise. "Don't do that!"
Cal chuckled, then after getting the ESA-the Emily Seal of Approval-for the new shirt, they joined Gillian in the living room.
"Merry Christmas, darling," Cal greeted her with a smile, followed by a quick peck to her cheek.
"Have you already been in the wine?" Gillian joked. "That smile seemed almost genuine."
Cal shook his head. "That's all me."
Gillian grabbed onto the back of a nearby chair as she 'recovered' from feigned shock. "Cal Lightman, festive?"
"It happens so infrequently," Emily said. "Don't get used to it!"
The kitchen timers went off then, and Emily rushed to get the rolls and pecan pie out of the oven before they burned. "Dinner's ready!" she called.
When she entered the kitchen and saw the volume of food laid out for Christmas dinner, Gillian exclaimed, "I thought you were worried that the shelves would be bare!"
"They are now," Cal explained.
"I didn't want us to run out," Emily added.
"No chance of that, Em," he told her. "We'll have leftovers until New Year's!"
"Then this is where I'll be!" Gillian joked.
... ... ...
With everyone full of ham, green beans, sweet potato casserole, and pecan pie, among other things, Emily gathered the dishes from the table and carried them to the sink.
"Let me help you clean up," Gillian offered.
"There's not that much, and Dad can help me," she declined. "Thanks, though. Oh, and knowing Dad, we should probably open presents before we watch the movie."
"Hey!" Cal protested, flicking some soapy water in Emily's direction. "You talk about me like I'm not even in the room!"
"But it's the truth!" Emily grinned, dodging the soap suds.
Even though Cal and Emily insisted that Gillian was the guest and would do no work, she couldn't not help. With the three of them working together, the clean up went quickly, and they were soon ready to open their presents.
... ... ...
Ten minutes later, with Amazon gift certificates, chocolates, and the book, 'How to Write a Best-Selling Novel' amongst the gifts now open in front of them, Cal got up and went to his bedroom, only to return a few moments later carrying a thin and flimsy gift wrapped in green tissue paper. He held it out to Gillian, and she looked at him questioningly.
"I...You..." He sighed and began again. "Be careful when you open it."
She took the gift from him and slowly tore open the green tissue paper. Inside was a paper snowflake. Her breath caught in her throat as she picked it up and examined it as best she could through tear-filled eyes. After a moment, she glanced up at him again. "Did you make this?" she asked, her voice shaky.
He nodded. "I know how much you like them."
"I do," she said as she smiled and stood to hug him. "This is one of the best gifts I've ever received. Thank you, Cal."
Emily grinned as she watched the exchange-it was like a Christmas movie was taking place right in front of her. And as clichéd as the saying was, her father and his partner were perfect for each other. If only they could see that.
... ... ...
It took a few minutes before Gillian was composed enough to retrieve the DVD from her purse. While Emily loaded it into the player, Cal opted for the middle seat on the couch. Gillian kicked off her shoes and sat to Cal's right, still holding onto the paper snowflake. Emily took her seat, and the film began.
As the film played, they were reminded of Kris and the previous day's events. Good had prevailed over evil, and that was cause for being filled with Christmas cheer.
Emily was so engrossed in the movie-she, like Gillian, had a thing for Dylan McDermott-that an hour into it, she realised that Cal was asleep. "See what I mean about Dad, Gillian?"
When she got no response, she frowned and leaned forward so she could see around Cal. Gillian was also asleep. "So much for having someone to talk to after eight p.m."
Emily finished the film and stood, still smiling because of the happy feeling with which she was left. Her happiness continued when she looked down at her father and Gillian. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his pillow was the top of her head. The best part was that even their breathing was synchronized. And though children were supposed to be grossed out by their parent's moments like this, she wasn't. It was sweet. She eased the snowflake out of Gillian's hand and put it on the table so it wouldn't get damaged. Then she covered them with a blanket, turned off the TV, and went to bed.
... ... ...
Cal woke up to a pitch-black room. Preoccupied by the crick in his neck for only a second, he quickly realised that Gillian was tucked against his side, sleeping peacefully. He kept as quiet as he could so he could listen to her sleep; savouring the feeling of having her so close. After a few minutes, though, her breathing changed, and she began to wake up.
Knowing she would probably be startled by the blackness of her surroundings, Cal spoke in soft tones.
"It's me, love. Don't be scared."
He felt her relax against him for just a moment. "I could so get used to this," she mumbled.
They sat for a few more minutes, neither wanting to move.
Then Gillian tensed beside him and Cal suspected she had fully woken up and realised exactly where she was. She asked what time it was as she started to move away from him.
"Best I can tell, it's after one."
"One?" she exclaimed as she scrambled to get up. "It's late. I've got to go!"
"Wait!" Cal fumbled around and finally got the lamp on, but not before Gillian bumped into the coffee table.
She was already reaching for her phone when he caught up with her.
"Who are you calling?"
"The cab company."
Cal took the phone from her hand and ended the call. "You won't need them tonight."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're staying here," he told her.
"I don't think..."
"In the spare bedroom," he added quickly.
"Cal, I couldn't."
"You said it yourself-it's late. Gillian, it's Christmas morning..."
"All the more reason for me to leave. I don't want to intrude on your Christmas morning with Emily."
"You wouldn't be intruding. Emily would love to have you here. And so would I."
He could see in her eyes that she was tempted yet reluctant to agree. "But I don't have anything to sleep in."
"I'm sure we can find something for you."
For a moment she just stared at him, silently. She was thinking, but her expression gave no clue as to what the result of those thoughts would be. Eventually she softly asked, "You're sure it won't be any trouble?"
"No trouble at all." He reached out and caught hold of her hand, still caught in that contented feeling of waking up beside her. "Gill, I know I haven't always been the best partner..."
She put a finger to his lips and shook her head. "That's all in the past," she told him gently, "It's what you do from this point forward that matters." And the hope and anticipation that sparkled in her eyes assured him that that was the invitation that it sounded like.
He tossed her phone on the chair and grasped her other hand, stepping closer to her, pleased when she didn't back away. "What did I ever do to deserve you, Gillian Foster?"
She smiled enigmatically, as if she knew of some answer to that question, then she leaned towards him.
As their lips met, they could have sworn that they heard a thud, followed by the ringing of jingle bells.
… … …
