He removed his arm from her shoulder. “We didn’t do anything like that.”

She sensed the change in him. “You must have had your own traditions?”

“My Christmases weren’t like yours. Sounds like yours were like something straight from a movie.”

She thought about it. “Not really. Maybe it sounds that way when I tell it because I focus on the good parts.”

“There were other parts?”

“Yes. From the outside it was pretty perfect.” She thought about it carefully. Had it been perfect? Had it really? “The strain of trying to make it perfect, exactly how my mother wanted it, caused a lot of stress, to be honest. Life doesn’t always go the way you want it to, does it? There was the year the turkey was off, and then the year my dad blew the lights and we had to use candles. My mother wanted everything the way she wanted it, which put a lot of pressure on everyone around her.” And then there had been the difficult years after her father had died. “She micromanaged every single part of it. The house, the tree, the food—even me. Oh!” She felt a cold wash of horror as she confronted the truth. “I’m exactly like her. I’ve turned into her. I have lists. I get upset when things don’t turn out the way I planned—”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You need some planning in life, or nothing would get done.” He pulled her back into his arms. “You’re still capable of spontaneity. The fact that you’re here is proof of that.”

Was that true? She was starting to feel she didn’t know herself well at all.

Planning and control had steered her through tough times in her life, not least the death of both her parents. She’d thought it was who she was, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was what she’d become? What if the spontaneous, impulsive Christy was who she really was?

It was so confusing. She wanted someone to take an X-ray or a blood test and say, Yes, you’re ninety percent spontaneous, so go and be that person.

In her attempt to control her life and cut out the bad, the unpredictable, the challenging, how much had she missed?

She’d panicked when he’d thrown away her notebook, but now she was wondering if he’d done her a favor.

“What about you? Didn’t you do anything at all for Christmas?”

“My memories of Christmas won’t leave you feeling festive.” He released her, but this time she wouldn’t let him pull away.

“I want to know. I really do. Did you have a tree?”

He shrugged. “It was just me and Dad. I guess he didn’t think it was important.”

“You didn’t even decorate a plant?”

“My dad wasn’t big on plants. Something else to take care of, and he already had enough of that.”

Her heart broke for him. He had more in common with Alix than he thought. “It must have been hard for him, raising you alone.”