Page 25 of The Christmas Book Flood

THIRTEEN

T ATIANA BARELY KEPT HERSELF FROM gnawing all her lipstick from her lips as Anders lifted the lid from the box. Her stomach was in knots, scenarios nipping at her mind that she’d already entertained and dismissed a dozen times.

What if he couldn’t reconcile Tatiana, the woman he admired, with Tandri, the author he thought he knew?

What if the very idea of her being his newest author friend felt like a betrayal to him?

For that matter, she didn’t honestly know his opinion on female writers.

True, he always treated the female employees at the Story Society with respect and equality, but they were all secretaries and assistants.

Not editors. Not writers. The company had only a couple of those on the rosters, none of whom wrote stories like the ones she’d chosen to tell.

He set the lid aside, frowning a bit when he saw that it was, indeed, paper inside. A whole ream of it. But not blank paper—he’d be noticing the typewritten words covering it, behind the note sitting on top, on lined paper instead of blank.

He lifted the note. Frowned at the handwriting that would be familiar to him—not hers. Tandri Ebbisson’s. She’d rewritten the thing so many times, she had it memorized.

Anders,

I couldn’t sign that third book to myself—but it made me realize how very much I wanted you to know who “myself” really is.

I wanted you to know me, the part of me I’ve yet to tell anyone else about.

I wanted you—the man who first saw the worth in those words I’d penned anonymously, the man who helped me shape it into the book it needed to be.

.. the man I’ve come to care for so deeply—to know the truth.

And that’s all I can write in this hand, so put the note down now and look over at me.

Tatiana / Tandri

He obeyed, but his gaze flicked first to that typewritten page, where the title of her next book was written. Beneath the Aurora . The title of Tandri’s second contracted novel.

His eyes went wide, but it wasn’t disappointment or even shock that filled them. It was... did she dare to name it?

Her fingers twisted together. “Elea said I should give you a story I’d written,” she said, words tumbling over themselves.

“But I didn’t have time to write something else, not with my deadline so soon—and I know this is a silly gift, because you can’t actually keep those pages—I need to edit them.

And then give them back to you, but as Tandri.

To my editor. And...” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“It’s not even finished. I still have two chapters to write.

But I wanted to give you something I’d never given to anyone else.

Something true and meaningful and...”

“Tatiana.” He reached out like she’d done over a week ago and caught her hand. “This is the best gift in the world. You’ve given me your trust. Your truth. Does no one else know?”

Could he possibly be as pleased as he sounded? As joyful? She shook her head in answer to his question.

“Your sister? Your parents?”

Another shake, and then a half-manic laugh. “Well, my lawyer, I suppose. He set everything up so I could sign contracts as Tandri. But he doesn’t know me, so he doesn’t count. But no one else. Not Valdi or Beta or Camilla, not my parents or Ari or Elea.” Just him.

He squeezed her fingers, not asking why she’d kept her real name off the book. Why she’d told no one. He wouldn’t need to. He, better than anyone, would understand the doubt, the fear, not to mention the bias she’d have faced.

He gave her a soft smile. “Elea was right. This is the perfect gift.”

She let out a long breath, her uncertainty going out with the air. Then she drew in another, and let her lips curve up in that teasing way that always had his gaze dropping from her eyes to her mouth. “Well, I did have a backup plan for a gift. In case you didn’t like the book.”

He leaned a bit closer. “Did you? What was it?”

Her own pulse skittered as she said, “A kiss.”

His smile only grew. “Well now I’m wishing I didn’t love the book so much, so you’d have to resort to this backup plan.”

“Mm. Or, since you received the first so graciously... perhaps you deserve a second.” She scooted a little closer. Tilted her head.

His kiss was like the first flakes of snow drifting down, like the aurora dancing in the sky, like stars twinkling, like endless summer sunshine.

It was light and music, color and wind, flowers and dreams. Tatiana let herself sink into it, her every sense abuzz.

She let her hand lift to settle on his neck, scooted a little closer when his arm came around her.

She’d expected their first kiss to be tentative, shy, maybe even awkward. But it was none of that. It was slow and soft, but sure. Certain. Right. The kind of kiss that led to more kisses, years of them, a lifetime. The kind that said this moment was the first of forever.

It stretched out, long and languid as a winter night, and yet ended with the sweetness of spring. He drew in a deep breath, so she mirrored him. Looked into his clear blue eyes.

“Tatiana,” he murmured, his lips still so close to hers that she could feel his breath as he spoke. “I’ve been in love with you so long. I never thought... and now I can think of nothing else. I love you. I need you to know that—I love you.”

Her fingers curled into the ends of his hair.

How had it all shifted so quickly? Gone from admiring him, savoring the few minutes she’d have in his company in a day, reading his letters over and over and wishing he knew they were to her .

.. to this? “I thought I’d have to deny being in love with you for years yet—convince myself it wasn’t that, couldn’t be, because you’d never think of me like that. ”

She could feel his smile, see it in his eyes. “How could I think of anyone but you like that?”

She smiled back. “I’m glad you don’t. Or rather, that you do. I love you, Anders.”

He kissed her again, sending her senses swirling once more. But then the clock chimed its warning, and she put a few inches between them. One more thing still needed to be settled before they went to his mother’s. “I have a favor to ask you.”

The way he gazed at her made her think she could ask for the moon, and he’d find a way to harness it... or at least paint her the prettiest representation. “Anything.”

She drew in a deep breath. “When it’s time to take Elea home, would you consider driving us? I want you to meet my family. And more, I want you to be there when I give them their Christmas gifts.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking it through. Then he grinned. “Signed copies of your book?”

She nodded. “It hadn’t been my plan—I had other books for them already.

But when I signed the ones for your mother and sister and you.

.. I knew I wanted them to have them too.

And I wanted them to know, even though it still terrifies me.

What if they don’t like it? What if no one likes it?

It’s sold well enough, yes, but I bet they’ve all been gifts, and no one’s actually read it yet, and what if when they do—”

He pressed his lips to hers again, and she decided it was the nicest way anyone had ever told her to be quiet.

“Your book, Tandriana”—they both smiled at the mash-up of her name and pen name—“will be well received because it’s just that good.

But even if your family doesn’t like it, it doesn’t matter.

They’ll still be so proud of you. They’ll cherish those copies you give them, and they’ll be bragging to everyone they know, if you let them. ”

She’d have to think about that part—whether she wanted anyone but her family to know that she was the one behind Tandri Ebbisson. A question for another day. One she could talk through with Anders—and oh, what a thrill it was to know she could .

He quirked a brow. “What about Valdi? Will you tell him?”

Though it required another deep breath, she nodded. “He deserves to know.”

He nodded his approval. Then smiled. “My turn to ask for a favor.”

Though she had no idea what it could be, she nodded. “Anything.”

“After dinner tonight, after gifts have been exchanged with my family, may I come back here with you and Elea to read before midnight Mass?” He reached over and pulled the manuscript back into his lap, grin wide as a little boy’s.

“I can think of nothing I’d rather read tonight.

But if I know authors at all, you don’t actually mean to let me take it home quite yet. ”

Laughter tickled her throat. “I was going to let you—as long as you promised to bring it back tomorrow. But this is even better. Yes, that sounds like a perfect plan.”

She and Elea had already decided that they’d exchange their gifts after they returned from Gilla’s house, but she knew her niece wouldn’t mind the addition.

And then they could walk to church together, light their candles, sing of the most miraculous birth.

.. she could think of no better way to celebrate their Savior.

No better reminder of that truest Love that had ever been given, than to spend the hours counting down until his birth with the people she loved, reading of other stories that could only hope to capture the most distant echo of his.

They shared one more soft kiss before it was time to blow out the candles on the tree and lure Elea away from her drawing with a reminder that Heidi was waiting for her.

They all bundled up, Anders offered to carry the plate of cookies and leaf bread she’d prepared to add to the night’s table, and soon they were in his car and trundling toward the harbor.

She watched out the window with a smile as the streets took them closer to the home where he’d grown up.