“I think we should go out tonight get drunk, find some men,” Eloise said.
“That’s a great idea.” I didn’t hide my sarcasm, throwing a beer mat in her direction for it to land on the floor instead. “I found a man, but he left. It was the most intense two days of my life, and now I’m empty.”
“Not completely,” Jolene pointed out.
“Sod off,” I replied. “I’m not going out partying, or looking for a man or getting drunk ever again. I’m going to a miserable old woman forever.”
“Bronwyn,” Old Mr Thomas said from his bar stool.
“Yes, Mr Thomas?”
“When will you start making Eccles cakes again?”
“Never, Mr Thomas. I will never make Eccles cakes again. They are the devil’s food that tempts you into falling in love with an idea. They make you wish for a life you can never have. I will never, ever, make the beautiful flaking pastry with succulent raisins and all welsh butter again.”
“But-“ Mr Thomas started to say.
“No buts, you ask every week and every week I give you the same answer. Eccles cakes are bad news. They make you love them then break your heart while you stuff your face and make your belly massive as a consequence.”
“It’s not your cooking that has made your belly fat,” Jolene corrected me.
“Sod. Off. Jolene.”
I got a cackle of laughter from all of my friends at my reply. I curled my lip and tried to fold my arms unsuccessfully and flopped further into the armchair.
Jolene, Eloise, Cassie and Mollie were sitting on the bench seat on one side of the table we were seated at. I’d grabbed the armchair so I could have my back to the pub. I was less likely to turn people to stone with my glaring. The downside to this was that I couldn’t see when the drama happened.
Like now, when the whole pub had heard my declaration of misery and doom because the place had been silenced. I didn’t hear anyone drop a plate or a glass which was usually the case to silence a busy pub.
“I think you should reconsider, Bronwyn, Eccles cakes could make a comeback,” Mr Thomas said.
“I doubt it, if I’m miserable, then everyone else can be as well.”
My friends sat round-eyed at me, not an unusual sight when I went full throttle that my love life was over. Old Mr Thomas cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. I gave him a dirty look at reached for another beer mat. My friends all sat mute, giving each other the side glare, elbowing unsubtly.
“What the hell is wrong with you all, even Mr Thomas won’t let the Eccles cake situation go. Come on, out with it.”
“I’ve never tasted an Eccles cake, Bronwyn. Maybe we could go to Yorkshire to taste the real deal.”
I hadn’t heard my full name uttered since he’d said it the last time.
Mollie had a face splitting grin, Cassie was trying to hide her smirk. Jolene and Eloise were stoic in poise.
“What do you say?”
“We’d have to go to Lancashire, to taste Eccles cakes in their home county. Isn’t that right Mr Thomas?”
“That’s right, but I have a feeling that the local bakery might be making their own soon.”
“Will you turn around?” Dean asked from behind me.
“I can’t, too difficult. My back is killing me.”
“Then I’ll talk to your back, I have things to say.”
“It’s taken you six months to come and say them? Is that how long it takes you to write an article? No one has heard from you, not even Charlie. You disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“They imprisoned me. It has taken TIME Magazine six months to get me freed. I was arrested as soon as I stepped off the aeroplane in Nairobi. The only thing that got me through the days and weeks was thoughts of you waiting for me. I dreamed of our time together in the house on top of the cliff. I got on the first flight I could get and then drove straight here from Heathrow. Bronwyn Jones, will you marry me?”
Eloise let out a squeak.
“Did you set me up?” I hissed the words at my friends.
All four women shook their heads, with their mouths wide open. I then looked to Mr Thomas, and he shook his head too. I couldn’t see anyone else to accuse. The armchair was one of those seats that as soon as you sat down, there was no getting up. Your arse was lower than you knees, and I didn’t have enough upper arm strength to haul myself out to see if he was joking.
“Please turn around, I need to see your face,” he pleaded.
“Can you come over here, kick these women out of their seats. It will be easier for me.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“For fuck’s sake. Jolene, help me up,” I barked.
She was out of her seat in a flash, along with my other best friends, helping me up. As soon as I was upright, I swooned, but they caught me. Once I was steady, I turned to look at Dean, stroking my swollen belly. I was six months pregnant but looked like I was ten months gone, carrying twins. My back was in agony for most of the pregnancy so far and I wanted to cry because I couldn’t take hardcore painkillers.
“Oh, my god. You are definitely marrying me now.”
Dean was on his knees, holding out a ring, nestled in a red velvet box. It looked antique and dainty. Far from what I felt in recent weeks.
The rest of the pub customers were cradling their drinks, waiting for me to answer. The numbers had swelled significantly since I had entered the pub twenty minutes ago.
“I can’t marry you, Dean, I’ve known you for forty-eight hours.”
“I’ve loved you since the moment you burned yourself, and your thumb grew to the size of your head. It must have hurt so much but you still made an entire cake for your best friend and decorated her wedding cake in freezing cold conditions. You felt the tranquillity, you told me. Did you lie?”
“You did that? Why didn’t you tell me you’d hurt yourself?” Mollie said.
She still had an arm around my waist in case I collapsed again.
“I had a hot water bottle strapped to my stomach. I was fine.”
“Why is Mollie holding you up?” Dean asked, getting up from the floor.
“This pregnancy hasn’t been easy.”
“I’m here now to take care of you. We can be married before the baby is born.”
A chorus of content sighs rang out across the pub. One of the bar staff was openly crying.
“You look tired, and in need of a decent lamb stew,” I said.
Dean scooted forward and dropped to his knees once more, to hug my legs with his ear pressed to my belly.
“You can let go, Mollie, I’ve got her,” he said, ignoring my comment.
He did. Dean was holding me so tight, I felt relief ooze from every pore.
“You really want to marry me?” I said to the top of his head.
Dean stood up, holding me by my upper arms because he couldn’t get his arms around my back to hug me. My boobs and belly were so huge.
There were the gossip mongers that didn’t believe it was Dean’s baby. Dean didn’t doubt it for a second.
I’d grilled Charlie for weeks when I’d learned I was going to be a mother, but he knew nothing of Dean’s whereabouts. Then I’d visited TIME Magazine, sitting in their offices demanding to know where he was. Eventually, the editor came out to see me tell me they didn’t know where he was either. I left dejected, alone and heartbroken. He’d disappeared off the face of the earth.
“I do, please say yes. Let me put the ring on, to see if it fits.”
I nodded with a watery smile. The pub erupted with cheers, but then I cried harder. The ring wouldn’t go over my first knuckle.
“We’ll get it resized. It was my great grandmother’s ring. It’s pretty old. Better to get it reset anyway, the ruby must be loose in its fittings after all this time.”
“It doesn’t fit because I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat, lovely, you’re blooming with motherhood. You look sensational, and I love you. Please, will you marry me?”
The rest of the pub had gone about their business. My nod to put the ring on was good enough for them but not Dean. He wanted a solid yes.
“Yes, I love you too. I’ll marry you,” I replied.
We were pushed together by my best friends in a group hug. At some stage, Charlie had arrived and was hugging his best mate with tears in his eyes, slapping Dean’s back, just to make sure it really was his best friend.
“What happens now?” Charlie asked.
“I need to sit down,” I said, reaching for the armchair.
“I need a shower,” Dean declared. “And arrange a wedding ceremony.”
I managed to wedge the ring onto my little finger to show the girls once we were back at the table. I couldn’t believe he was back and that he hadn’t abandoned me after all.
“Another wedding, I can’t wait. Plus it will be a summer one, so no chance of snow,” Mollie said.
I raised my glass of lemonade in a toast. Maybe my customers would get a more pleasant owner serving them Eccles cakes.
Connect with Grace Harper
Thank you for reading His Christmas Surprise. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you spent the time reading it. If you want to keep up to date with my future releases, sales and giveaways, sign up for my newsletter, head over to my website.
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Is this your first Grace Harper book? Looking for the next read? Then head on over to start the Red & Black series, the first one is CHARCOAL NOTES.
Other titles by Grace Harper:
The Geary Series
Charming Olivia
Loving Lilly
Breaking Jane
The Brodie Series
THIS LOVE
THIS LOVE ALWAYS
THIS LOVE FOREVER
The Jackson’s Bay Mini-Series
Sunshine & Lightning
High Heels & Summer Mornings
Wishes & Promises
Strangers & Heroes
Sister & Brothers
Flashbulbs & Champagne
Red & Black Series
Charcoal Notes
Crimson Melodies
raven acoustics
cardinal lyrics
ONYX KEYS
A Standalone Novel
The Stranger’s Voice
A Standalone Novella
Stranded at New Year
His Christmas Surprise Page 8