Fiona McArthur - Christmas with Her Ex

The first plan had always been—marry Kelsie. Keep her safe.

Then—become a doctor.

The third—take her to Venice on the Orient Express when they could afford it, because it was the one thing she really did have a fantasy about.

God, he’d been so stupid. he shook his head and returned to the present as the line moved forward again. But there had been other plans and he guessed he’d at least achieved them.

He was a research-based obstetrician. Dealing with infertility. Well respected. His gran would say world renowned but he would have said he was more recognised for being happy to share what he’d learnt. He’d been very busy during the last fifteen years so it was no wonder he hadn’t married.

Gran had informed him she despaired he’d find a wife before she died. No doubt she was pretty keen to see it happen but as far as he was concerned there were a lot of research projects he’d be happy to leave the family fortune to.

In fact, he had a horrible feeling this whole trip had some romantic connotation he was missing and it wasn’t really about diverting Gran’s mind from her recent loss. Something along the lines of if he wouldn’t marry for good sense then he’d better marry for love.

Couldn’t see it happening on a damn train but she’d muttered about some bloke she’d fallen for in her distant past whom she’d met on this train, and he just hoped the old man hadn’t turned in his grave when she’d dropped that little bombshell.

His grandfather had been the father he’d lost the same year he’d lost Kelsie and he’d always thought his grandparents perfectly matched at least. Funny how things in life weren’t always as you expected.

Like meeting Kelsie again after all these years.

KELSIE GLANCED AT her watch. Ten thirty-five and the train left at ten fifty-seven. She should find her carriage but seriously she wasn’t ready to sit down just yet.

Winsome and her grandson had boarded, and Kelsie carried her tiny overnight satchel—thank goodness for outrageously expensive wrinkle-free clothes—and she tried to slow her agitated feet to an inconspicuous amble.

She’d been almost the last to get her ticket, mainly because she’d wanted to stay well clear of Connor, and had walked up and down the platform ostensibly admiring the ornate carriages but really walking off her agitation at seeing him again.

Connor Black. She’d loved him like a brother since fifth grade when he’d moved from being annoying to mysteriously compelling. Not that all boys had been mysterious—just Connor.

For an only child, having Connor as her friend had seemed an impossible dream, until he’d come across her being bullied by a mean-streaked older boy who’d found the purse she’d lost one afternoon, late in the spring. She could almost smell the scent of falling orange blossoms, and blood, in the orchard where it had happened.

The ensuing bout of fisticuffs had left Connor with bruised knuckles and the other boy with a black eye and split lip, for which Connor had received a caning from the school principal the next day. The thought still made her cringe because it had been her fault.

But Connor had shrugged it off as no account and her hero-worship had been sealed.

She glanced into a window of the train and her reflection smiled ruefully back at her. He’d looked so heroic, his shirt torn, his eyes narrowed as he’d warned the other boy, his gentle grasp of her hand as he’d led her away.

For the rest of that year he’d taken to walking her home, the absolute best part of her day, and she’d never felt unprotected again, even when Connor had gone off to boarding school, because the letters between them had kept them close. Because home hadn’t been such a grand place, with her mother gone and her dad not much use at conversation unless it had been to give an order.

Her dad had expected her to follow the rules, and had been worse since Mum had finally rebelled and left. Although thankfully the fighting had stopped, her dad was so distant Kelsie had felt rudderless in the world until Connor. She’d wash up, do the housework and her homework, and take herself off to bed at dark, and dream of escaping to the city with Connor.

Except for Connor’s correspondence, hers had been a lonely existence, lightened when holidays had come around and Connor would find her and the two would slip away to dream together.

Connor had always been full of dreams. His real mother had drowned in a tragic accident when he’d been twelve and he was always going to be a doctor, always going to save the world. And Kelsie had believed him.

When Connor went to university they would marry. Elope, Connor said, because everyone would say they were too young.

But she was content to wait until Connor said it was time and she began to have dreams of her own. To be a nurse. To be free of her father’s dictatorship. Be with Connor and gladly follow him to the ends of the earth. He’d arrange everything because that’s what he liked to do, and it was easier to say yes.

Finally the day arrived. Her dad forbade her to leave, Connor had forbidden her to be late, and the similarities suddenly dawned on her. Had she been using her romance to escape her father’s control, only to fall into the same trap?

It was an uncomfortable thought that wouldn’t go away now that it had surfaced. It was all so confusing when Connor had been so good to her.

He’d secured rooms for them near his new university, the registry office was booked, and he’d bought her a short white dress for her to wear on the train when she travelled to meet him. He’d admonished her not to daydream and miss the train. Not to lose the ticket. As if by mentioning it he could influence the vagrancies of fate.

She thought about that. And then the doubts crept in just as the hands of the little watch Connor had bought her crept closer to the time they would meet.

She loved Connor. Could see the goodness in him. How much he cared about her. But was she ready to tie herself to another man who would run her life for her so completely? Was she always going to make Connor sigh when she needed rescuing?