Archive of Our Own ^beta

CHRISTMAS IN ITALY

"Want some company?" Maya asked, peeking her head into their darkened bedroom. Carina had spent the evening shrouded in nostalgia, flipping through photo albums.

Her wife didn't answer immediately, fingers trailing over a picture. Her shoulders were rounded, like the weight of grief was forcing them that way. There was a wistful, lost in the moment, sad look on her face. Maya was sure if she looked up, there'd be all too familiar tears sparkling in her eyes.

"I don't have to. But I will... if you want me to."

The reply came in the form of a nod of her head. Maya moved quickly across the room, though her actions were calm and slow. She pressed a kiss to the top of Carina’s head, as she sunk onto the bed next to her, one hand winding until it rested on her wife's hip.

She waited for Carina to open up, her eyes scanning the page; teenaged Carina, sweet innocent Andrew, parents who seemed to love each other.

"Snow," Maya said, amused, when Carina didn’t speak.

"Mmm. We're in le Dolomiti- Dolomites in English. It was the first time I saw snow."

"How old are you?" Maya asked, her lips finding Carina’s temple.

"Fourteen. Andrea was nine. We went for Christmas, it was magical. I think Papa was manic, he decided at the last minute we should go. But we were happy. I remember," she sighed, fingertips tracing over her Mamma's face. "Mamma was happy, I remember. Truly. She was so happy. They were. My parents. All of the problems, they vanished. No fights. Just- how I remembered them when I was little. Before Andrea arrived. Happy."

"Wow, sounds- what was it like, tell me."

"We had this... chalet in this little village way up in the mountains. Everything was wooden. Hand built. Like something you see on a Christmas card. It was completely different to our Christmas in Sicily which would be rainy at its worst. It was so snowy, look," she flipped back a few pages and turned the book so Maya could see a picture of her and Andrea stood next to a snow bank that swamped her and made Andrew look particularly mini. "I remember we left Sicilia in sunshine and we landed in almost a snow storm. It was my first ever flight. Usually we would drive if we went on vacation, but papa paid for us to fly. I was terrified. Andrea loved it."

"Look at you," Maya practically cooed, looking at the photo of Carina stood in front of the plane in Sicily, looking a little nervous, chuckling at the photo on the opposite page which was her bundled up in a jacket stood by a sign that said 'Verona'.

"It was so cold, and the car was frozen, which Andrea and I couldn't believe. Now I deal with it most of the time through winter. But it was such a new experience."

"I bet, so then did you drive?"

"Sì, the drive was around two hours, it took papa three because he wasn't used to driving in conditions like that, but we made it to our little chalet and Papa made this man on skis take our photo in front of it," she pointed to the picture she had originally been looking at.

"I can't get over how cute you look," Maya said, nuzzling Carina’s cheek with her nose. Carina was all arms and legs, dressed in a colourful winter jacket that helped date the photo back to the 90s. She stood taller than the rest of her family, her papa included and had her arms draped over her brother's front. "Look at your little bobble hat."

"I hated it, but Mamma went on and on about how I'd 'catch a cold for Christmas' if I didn't wear it so I was good."

"You look so cute. So did you guys ski?"

"Sì, and I was terrible. I refused to do it again after the first day. Andrea was amazing at skiing and even Papa and Mamma were good too but I was bad. Terrible actually. So I was allowed to stay back at the chalet and go for hot chocolate at the top of the slopes. I enjoyed it, honestly."

"And you were there over Christmas?"

"Sì, it was the best Christmas ever. It was the last one where all of the family was together. The following year Papa was manic again, but his mania revolved around work. And then the year after that, Mamma and Andrea left not that long before. So... this Christmas," she flipped the page to a picture of them in their pyjamas opening their presents on Christmas Eve, "this was the best Christmas. My favourite Christmas."

Maya didn't miss the wobble in her wife's voice or the little shake in her hand as she smoothed it over the page. She shuffled closer and pressed a long kiss to her cheek.

In that moment, Maya knew exactly what she had to do.

The tears had been falling all day. She thought finishing decorating would stem them. That pushing through the heavy pain in her chest to finish putting up the Christmas tree would ease the pain and slow her tears.

But everything reminded her of him.

"Oh honey," Maya said, as sobs pulled her wife to the floor, her hands clutching three stockings. She sat next to her and pulled her into a hug.

"I don't want to celebrate Christmas here, without him. Everything is so- I've never celebrated Christmas in Seattle without him. I- I-"

Maya sighed, hugging her tighter, so Carina could bury her face into her neck. She pressed a kiss to her forehead and Maya leaned back, not saying anything, knowing her wife needed to feel this pain.

Their apartment was looking festive. In between the tears and hugs and memories shared of Andrea, they'd transformed their home into a festive wonderland of sorts. It wasn’t as highly decorated as the previous year, but they had a Christmas tree up in the dining room and garland draped over the fireplace. They'd paused to bake some cookies- we'll biscotti- as was tradition.

But there had been that undercurrent of sadness framing the day. It had been seven months and her wife's grief seemed to have crescendoed as the holidays approached. She'd spent Thanksgiving day working, before crawling into bed and crying herself to sleep. And where they'd usually decorate for Christmas as soon as thanksgiving was done, they hadn't. It was the 15th of December and they were only now decorating.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?" Carina sniffed, not lifting her head off Maya’s shoulder.

"Can I go and get something? I'll be right back."

Carina pulled back, her face a mix of confused betrayal. "I-"

"I promise it's worth it. I'll literally be two seconds."

Carina nodded, wrapping her arms around herself, as Maya stood.

"Love you," Maya whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Maya stepped quietly into their bedroom, closing the door just enough that Carina wouldn’t hear the rustling. Her heart thudded; part nerves, part excitement, and part fear of doing it wrong- of making her wife hurt more instead of less.

She opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the small red envelope she’d been hiding for weeks. She hadn’t even written anything fancy on it: just C. in her neatest handwriting. She'd wanted to write a letter when she knew exactly the moment she’d give it. Now, holding it, she wished she’d written more. Or made it prettier. Or wrapped it. Something.

“It’s refundable,” she whispered to herself, as if practicing for Carina. “And only if you want it. Only if it feels right.”

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and headed back out.

Carina was wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater when Maya stepped into the living room again. She looked up, red-eyed and exhausted, but trying for a smile the moment she saw Maya.

“Hey,” Maya murmured, kneeling in front of her so their eyes were level. “Okay. So. I… have something. And I want you to know you don’t have to like it. You don’t have to say yes. Everything is refundable. Literally everything. If you hate it, that’s okay. No pressure. No hurt feelings.”

Carina blinked, confused. “Maya, what are you talking about?”

Maya’s hands were shaking a little as she held out the envelope. “I, um… I didn’t really know how to do this. I was going to wait. Do something... more- But when you said you couldn’t do Christmas here without him, I just-” Her voice cracked for a moment. “I wanted to give you something that doesn’t hurt. Or- or- or makes it hurt... less.”

Carina stared at the envelope before taking it with careful fingers. “What is this?”

“Its- Just- Open it.”

Carina slid her finger under the flap and carefully pulled out the papers inside; printed confirmations, dates, a tiny photo of a chalet tucked between snow-covered peaks. Her breath hitched.

“Maya…” she whispered, eyes racing across the various papers, trying to comprehend. “This is- this is the Dolomites. The chalet. My chalet. Our- Maya-”

Maya nodded, swallowing hard. “Christmas week. If you want. It's all- But. If it feels wrong, we won’t go. I just… I know you love it there. The way you talked about it. I know Andrea loved it too. And I thought maybe being somewhere that holds good memories would… I don’t know. Make it just that little bit less impossible."

Carina’s lips quivered, as she looked between Maya and the picture. She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, tears falling again- softer this time, lighter even. "Amore-"

"It's okay if you don't, if you- if-"

"Amore, you planned this? You did this?"

"Yeah," Maya gave a small smile, accompanied by an embarrassed shrug, "surprise?"

Carina laughed through her tears, the sound breaking and warm all at once. She leaned forward, cupping Maya’s face as if she couldn’t possibly hold enough gratitude. “Yes. Yes, I want this. I want this so much. Thank you.”

Maya finally breathed. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Carina kissed her, slow and trembling. “Thank you. Thank you for knowing what I needed, even when I didn't know."

Maya wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. “Always.”

The car hummed steadily beneath them as it climbed higher into the mountains, snow thickening along the roadside in soft, untouched drifts. Maya sat close to Carina in the backseat, their hands intertwined on the seat between them. She kept stealing glances at her wife- at the way her forehead was nearly pressed to the window, at how her eyes followed every tree, every bend, as though afraid to miss even a second.

Carina exhaled, soft and awed. “Maya… look.” She pointed ahead where a cluster of wooden rooftops appeared through the trees. “That’s Nova Ponente. We stopped for hot chocolate there. Mamma thought Papa needed a break from driving so we stopped for hot chocolate." She laughed; a real, light laugh that hadn’t graced Maya’s ears in far too long. "Papa did not enjoy the drive at all."

Maya smiled, letting the warmth settle in her chest. “I love that.”

The car kept climbing, Nicolò, their driver, had put on Christmas music at their request and Maya’s heart fluttered in her chest when Carina started to hum along, face still turned to the window. Maya smiled when Carina’s hand found hers, she interlaced their fingers and lifted their joined hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to her warm skin.

They stayed like this for a little while; silent save for Carina’s humming and the lilt of Christmas music drifting from the speaker.

As they rounded another bend, the village of Obereggen came into view; smaller than the towns below, nestled in a bowl of towering mountains. Smoke curled from a few chimneys; strings of warm lights glowed against the early evening blue. Carina’s breath caught.

“Maya…” She pressed a hand to the glass. “This… this is exactly how I remember it.”

Maya squeezed her hand. “Good.”

“There,” Carina said suddenly, tapping the window. “That little bakery- do you see the dark green shutters? They do these almond cookies that melt in your mouth.” Her voice softened. “Mamma used to buy them for Andrea and I and we would savour them."

Maya leaned a little closer, brushing her thumb along Carina’s knuckles. “We’ll get some. Tomorrow. Every day if you want. I bet we could even bring some home.”

Carina’s eyes shimmered- not with tears, but with something bright. Something alive. “I forgot how beautiful it all was,” she whispered, turning back to the window.

Maya swallowed around the knot forming in her throat. Seeing Carina like this- smiling, animated, full of light memory rather than weighed down by grief- it made Maya’s chest squeeze. 'Thank God,' she thought. 'Thank God I brought her here.'

Niccolò slowed as they passed the tiny church, its steeple dusted with snow, windows glowing orange. Carina pointed out the little grocery shop that sold the cheese her mother loved, explaining how there was also a sweet counter inside. Each story came soft and bright, like lanterns being lit.

And Maya soaked in every one.

"Arriveremo presto, Signore."
[We'll be there soon, madames.]

"Grazie, Nicolò," Maya replied, her accent so awfully American that Carina started laughing.

Maya raised her eyebrows at her. "Zitto, Mia-"

Carina laughed harder, tipping her head back.

"Oh come onnnn, I've been practicing."

"Va bene Bambina, parlerò io."
[Alright, bambina, I’ll do the talking]

The car came to a slow stop, saving Maya from any translation related embarrassment. Carina turned back to the window, looking out at their final stop.

"Solo a piedi. Posso aiutarti con le valigie. Only by walking," Nicolò called back to them.
[Only on foot. I can help you with your bags.]

"It's okay, we can do our bags, right bambina?" Carina said, looking back at Maya.

"Yeah,” she nodded, pulling out her phone, “it's not much further according to my instructions."

"Allora, non abbiamo bisogno di aiuto per portare le nostre borse, grazie."
[We don't need any help carrying our bags, thanks]

"Va bene," he nodded, climbing out, as Maya and Carina pulled their warm gear on. He opened the door, and helped them step out, the cool air hitting their cheeks, instantly turning their noses red. Maya stepped out first, holding her gloved hand out for Carina, who accepted, the snow crunching beneath her feet.

Nicolò passed them their suitcases and once they had paid and tipped him generously, they were on their own, walking up a tight, snow-dusted street.

"Maya..." Carina breathed looking up at the tall chalets.

"Baby?" Maya replied, a smile growing on her lips.

"This is-"

"Mmm-hmm."

The chalet appeared around the final curve, perched in frosty solitude at the hill’s edge, its balcony wrapped with simple winter garland, icicles glinting under the porch light. The same sloping roof. The same hand carved shutters. The same place she’d come all of those years ago.

Carina’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Maya…”

Maya’s heart thudded. “Surprise.”

Carina turned to her, tears gathering. Soft. Overflowing. Joyful. “Amore… this is- this is my chalet. The chalet.”

"I'm very glad you said that," Maya chuckled, breathing a sigh of relief. "I studied the picture so hard because I wanted to make sure I got it right and I was 90% sure it was this one, but there's a cabin on the other side of town that looks almost the same. Okay phew, I'm glad it's right."

"Thank you, thank you."

"I hoped… I hoped it would feel like stepping back in time.”

Carina didn’t speak. She launched forward, arms wrapping around Maya’s neck, holding her as if she’d been waiting her whole life to breathe like this again.

“Maya Bishop,” she whispered into her shoulder, voice shaking with love, “you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Maya melted into her, relief flooding every tense corner of her body.

“Welcome home,” she murmured.

They stayed like that, hugging, suitcases abandoned, tears falling quietly for a while. Eventually Carina pulled back, used her gloves hand to wipe both of their tears, slipped her hand back into Maya’s and pulled her towards the front door.

“It’s freezing, come on,” she said, breathless. “You have to see.”

Carina turned the key that was just in the door waiting for them. The door creaked open, warm air spilling out to meet them. Woodsmoke. Pine. Something faintly citrusy that made Carina stop short.

“Oh,” she whispered, smiling. “It smells the exact same.”

Maya barely had time to step inside before Carina was already moving, shedding her coat and boots in a heap by the door.

"This room," she yanked open a closet, "it's a drying room, Andrea left baci, you know the chocolate, in here on Christmas Eve for Babbo Natale and Papa stepped on one and got chocolate between his toes."

"Oh my God," Maya chuckled, reaching for her coat to hang it up, but Carina was already tugging on her arm again.

"We can hang coats later!"

Maya let herself be tugged along, watching Carina’s face light up with every step, every memory surfacing easily now, without pain. The almost constant pinch in her brow that had been there since Andrew had died, had softened.

The fireplace was different; new stonework, cleaner lines. Carina tilted her head, studying it, reaching out to brush her fingers over the tile. “That’s new,” she said, amused. “The old one smoked terribly. Papà said it had ‘character.’ I'm glad they fixed it so you don't have to be all 'firefighter' about it.”

"Rude," Maya chuckled, but she really couldn't care less.

They walked through the rest of the house, hand in hand. Maya felt like she could see teenage Carina full of life running around here with Andrea in tow, hands connected pointing out all of the different quirks they spotted.

"Thank you, Amore," Carina whispered, resting her head on Maya’s shoulder as they looked out on the darkening landscape from the window in the bedroom.

Maya turned and pressed her lips to Carina’s cheek, smiling when Carina moved, cuddling in.

Outside, snow began to fall again, quiet and steady, as they lost themselves in a world that existed in memories and in the now.

Carina paused in the doorway, the bedroom warm against the cold still clinging to her. The paper bag in her hand crinkled softly as she adjusted her grip.

Maya was still asleep.

She lay almost diagonally across the bed, hands curled by her cheek, one leg sticking out from under the covers. Her blonde hair was a mussed up mess on the pillow. Her chest rose and fell in a lazy pattern; even and unguarded. This was the sleep of somebody who had succumbed to jet lag after a restless night.

Carina smiled to herself, leaning against the doorway, happy to sit in the peace of the moment.

Beyond Maya, the world was all white and quiet. Snow fell steadily, blurring the mountains into soft shapes, the light muted and pale. It felt like the whole place was holding its breath.

Carina watched Maya for a long moment, her chest tightening; not with that all too familiar grief, but with something gentler. Gratitude. Wonder. Love so full it almost startled her, even after all this time.

She stepped inside at last, careful, the floor cool beneath her thick socks, the scent of fresh bread and sugar following her into the room.

"Bambina," she breathed, perching on the bed, setting the coffee cups and bag of goodies on the bedside table. Carina reached out, her fingers brushing Maya’s cheek.

The blonde shivered, hand blindly reaching for the heavy duvet.

"Amore mio, it's me," Carina said, an amused lilt in her voice. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Maya’s temple.

"Mmmm."

"I bought breakfast... and real Italian coffee."

"You went out without me?" Came a little croak from inside the covers.

Carina chuckled, "bambina, you were dead to the world. I tried. It's almost 10am."

"I'm sorry," Maya said, blinking slowly.

"No, no apologising. Sleep is good. Sleep is important."

"I wanted to come with you to that bakery you pointed out though," Maya said, sitting up slowly, clutching the duvet to her chest, shivering again.

"You still can," Carina smiled, reaching for Maya’s mocha, "I was going to walk to the grocery store, but I came across this new panetteria that was also a caffè. Or it did coffee. So I got us breakfast."

"You still have snow in your hair," Maya grinned, touching a rapidly melting snow flake.

"Sì, the farmacia sign said it is minus four outside. So it's cold. But not too cold to snow. The ski places seem to be closed, the town had lots of people walking around. Anyway, you drink your mocha whilst I show you what I got for breakfast."

"You got me a mocha, but you hate them."

"Sì, but I know my wife needs her coffee not so strong and tasting like coffee..."

"Thanks babe," Maya grinned, kissing her cheek before taking a sip. "Oh that's the best mocha I've ever had."

"I'd be offended, if I didn't agree."

"Did you get yourself a drink?" Maya asked, leaning around her to look at the nightstand.

"Sì, but I drank it on the walk back."

"Smart. Okay let's see what you got."

"Firstly, un classico- a cornetto for us to share. Just a plain one but they did have the filled ones too. So we could try that one out another time."

"That looks delicious," Maya smiled, taking the bag from Carina, setting it on the bed.

“And this,” Carina said, pulling out one more paper-wrapped pastry, “is a brioche. Very simple-"

"You dip that in coffee right?" Maya interrupted.

"Sì, bambina, brava," Carina grinned, tearing some off and dipping it into Maya’s mocha, feeding it to her.

"Mmm, that's good."

"Sì, and in this last bag, it is treccia al cioccolato soffice, Andrea’s favourite," she explained, showing Maya the braided pastry that had chocolate running through the middle.

"Oh that looks so good!"

"It is, here," Carina tore a little off, passing it to her.

"Our bed is going to be full of crumbs," Maya chuckled, taking the bite straight from Carina’s hands. "But oh my goodness, that's good."

"Sì, your first Italian breakfast."

"America is really missing out."

Carina laughed, resting her head on Maya’s shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?" Maya asked, already taking a bite of the cornetto.

"For this. For bringing us here. For sticking w-"

"Nope, I won't accept your thanks. You don’t need to thank me, you know that."

Carina smiled faintly, not arguing, just letting the moment settle. She leaned more fully into Maya, crumbs and all, watching snow gather on the windowsill.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Then I’ll just say… I’m very glad I have you.”

Maya’s arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

"Are you sure?" Maya asked, standing in front of the sofa, pulling her mitten on.

"Sì-"

"Because, I don't have to do this. We can- we should spend the day together-"

"Maya, I want you to do this. Do you want to do it?" Carina said, smirking a little.

"No, I definitely do, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with me doing it," she said, struggling to do her jacket up now she had the mittens on. "And that you definitely don't want to give it another go."

"Bambina," Carina stood up, her fingers easily fastening the coat. “I love you,” she said firmly, “but I will not be joining you in throwing myself down a mountain.”

Maya laughed. “Not even the bunny slope?”

“No.” Carina’s answer was immediate. “I tried when we came here that Christmas. I fell about five times on the hill with all of the skiing babies. Andrea couldn't stop laughing at me. I decided I am not built for speed.”

“That feels… very fair.”

“But,” Carina added, lifting a finger, “I will take the lift up. I like the views. And there is a very good place at the top for lunch.”

Maya’s grin widened. “Yeah?”

“Sì. We can meet there. You snowboard, I drink something warm and judge you lovingly.”

“I accept these terms.”

Carina leaned up and kissed her, quick and bright. “Go. Be brave. Try not to break anything important.”

“No promises,” Maya said, already backing toward the door.

Carina watched her go, smiling, before turning back to the quiet living room, already thinking about the lift, the restaurant, the way the mountains looked from above.

The gondola whirred softly as it pulled away from the station, lifting Carina up and away from the village below. She sat alone in the small cabin, the families in the queue around her opting to stick together, boots planted firmly, hands tucked into her coat pockets as the ground slowly dropped out from beneath her.

She smiled despite herself.

This part she liked.

The mountains rose around her, white and endless, the noise of the world fading with every meter gained. She watched, forehead pressed against the window, skiers trace thin lines through the snow below and felt no pull to join them, only a quiet contentment in being carried.

She remembered doing this journey with her family. Papa talking about his ski boots being too tight, Mamma passing around snacks, Andrea swinging his legs so vigorously, as he talked about how cool he looked skiing, that the gondola swung that little bit more.

She'd trade almost everything to be back in that gondola, moody about being dragged up a hill, a book zipped in her coat pocket for when she inevitably hated it. Her baby brother excited, full of energy, trying to sneak a bite of her sandwich when she wasn't looking because 'your food always tastes better than mine'.

Almost everything.

Maya would have to stay. She was too precious to exchange for a moment in time.

When had she fallen so deeply in love with her?

Maybe it was in the quiet moments as she lay on the floor next to her as she grieved. Maybe it was in the unwavering support, and the 'give me the part that stings the most'. Maybe it was just existing in her messy, twisty, wonderful presence. Whenever it was, she'd fallen for her hard enough that she wouldn't exchange Maya to be back here with her brother.

The gondola kept up its whirring as they climbed higher, and Carina settled into her journey, forehead still pressed, people still whizzing below her.

Eventually, it slowed with a gentle jolt, and the doors slid open to a rush of cold air and noise. Carina stepped out carefully, immediately sidestepping a skier who shot past with an apologetic wave.

She laughed under her breath. “Ancora caotico,” she murmured.
[Still chaotic]

She followed the throngs of people out from the covered area, avoiding yet more people whizzing past to get in the queue for the next lift or to the top of the hill they'd just climbed.

She remembered Andrea here, so clearly; his helmet crooked, goggles askew, cheeks red with cold and beaming with pride as he skidded to a stop far too close to her. He’d grinned like he’d done something extraordinary.

‘Did you see that?’ he’d asked, breathless.

She’d pretended not to be impressed.

It was like he was here.

Her chest ached for a moment.

Carina adjusted her scarf and followed the signs toward the restaurant, boots crunching against packed snow.

As the door opened she was hit with yet another wave of nostalgia. It smelled the same, a mixture of wood and food. The restaurant was just as busy as she remembered, voices overlapping, cups clinking, the warmth pressing in after the cold. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling, unchanged. Carina shook snow from her coat and let her eyes wander.

She spotted the booth immediately.

It sat tucked into the far corner by the window, overlooking the lower slope, just as it always had. She smiled and headed for it without hesitation, shrugging out of her coat and kicking off her boots once she’d slid inside. Her feet curled beneath her instinctively, the wooden bench cool through her socks.

She ordered a hot chocolate, then pulled her Kindle from her coat, pausing for a moment before turning it on. Once upon a time it had been a paperback copy of Little Women; dog-eared and heavy in her pocket.

She read for a while. Long enough for the cup to empty, for snow to streak the window in new patterns, for the door to open and close half a dozen times.

"Is this seat taken?"

Her voice stood out against the sea of Italian and German chatter. Carina jumped looking up to see her person; cheeks flushed, helmet tucked under her arm.

"Bambina," Carina sprung up, reaching up to brush snow off her jacket. "You're freezing, look at your cheeks," she ran a careful thumb over Maya’s reddened cheeks.

"You looked cozy," Maya hummed, leaning in for a kiss.

"Madonna, even your lips are cold, vienni, sit." Carina fussed, ushering her into the booth.

"I mean, I'm meant to be cold, I've been snowboarding," Maya chuckled, though allowed Carina to adjust the hat on her head, and cup her cheeks to warm her up.

In no time at all, Carina had ordered them both an extra large hot chocolate, Maya was wearing her fleece and her feet were in her lap being massaged.

"Va bene. How was it?" Carina finally asked.

Maya’s eyes lit up. “Different. Faster. I think I’m ruined for American slopes now though."

"Oops," Carina chuckled, "we'll just have to keep coming back then."

"We will, especially if my lunch comes with a beautiful Italian woman who warms me up."

Carina rolled her eyes but leaned in all the same, meeting their lips in a kiss. "It will."

"Perfect."

"Past-ik-area A-quwey-sta-pace so is this the place?" Maya read aloud as they stopped outside the bakery Carina pointed out on her way into the town.

Carina doubled over with the force of her laugh, practically wheezing as she held onto Maya.

"Carina? What?" Maya whined, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment sure she was the reason Carina was laughing so hard she was struggling to catch her breath.

"Say- say it again."

"What?"

"The," she waved at the bakery sign.

"What? Past-ik-area A- A-ki-sta-pace?"

Carina snorted again, wiping tears from her eyes as she straightened up. "Bambina."

"I am clearly butchering it."

"Sì," Carina chuckled, wiping her eyes again before breaking into more laughter. "Past-ik-area!"

"Come on, tell me."

"Pasticceria Aquistapace," Carina said slowly, her lips twitching in a smile.

"Nope, I'm never getting that. Looks like a cute place though," Maya grinned, connecting their hands again.

"By cute do you mean stuck in time?"

"No! It looks genuinely cute with the bread and treats in the window and the cute wooden shelves," Maya said gesturing at the front of the shop.

"Well, it looked exactly like this when we came years ago. The pastries were amazing though, and the almond biscotti, hopefully they're just as good."

"Let's see!" Maya tugged Carina toward the door before she could respond, the bell chiming softly as they stepped inside.

Warmth wrapped around them instantly. The air smelled of sugar and yeast and something buttery that made Maya inhale deeply. There were glass cases lined in a square crowded with pastries that looked too good to touch- almost out of place in a building that seemed so stuck in time. Along all of the back walls there were worn wooden shelves towering high, backed with speckled mirrors that reflected the jars of candy stored there. In front of the cases, and on every available surface there were baskets of bread.

"Buona vigilia di Natale," the owner who had appeared with the chiming of the bell said. "Ah, Americana?"

"No, lei lo è, io no." Carina chuckled, patting Maya’s arm.
[she is, i am not]

"Ah, Siciliana?"

"Sì," Carina smiled, "Ma non vivo lì da molto tempo."
[But I haven't lived there for a long time]

"Bah, hai ancora l'accento siciliano. Il che è raro, mia figlia si è trasferita in America e quando parla ha un accento che sembra americano. Tutto pigro e aspro."
[Bah, you still have a Sicilian accent. Which is rare, my daughter moved to America and when she speaks she has an accent that sounds American. All lazy and harsh.]

"Lo stesso vale per mio fratello, sembra così americano quando- parla."
[same with my brother, he sounds so American when he- talks.]

"Hai un fratello? Dove vive? Forse mia figlia-" he was interrupted by an older woman coming in from the back. Carina sighed in relief as she started talking to him in rapid Italian about overcharging and talking so much the customers have no time to pick what they want.
[You have a brother? Where does he live? Maybe my daughter-]

She turned to Carina and Maya, "Per favore, prenditi il ​​tuo tempo per scegliere."
[please, take your time choosing]

"Grazie." Carina said, squeezing Maya’s hand. "What would you like, Bambina?"

"Do they have that chocolatey thing you got me the other day?" Maya asked, scanning the cases.

"Treccia al cioccolato soffice, sì," Carina said pointing to the case on the far left. "Allora. Are we having a chocolate breakfast? Should I get a Cornetto al cioccolato?"

"Sounds good, and were we picking some bread up from here or at the market place you said?"

"Here, anything catching your eye?" Carina asked, as she perused a case with cannoli. "Mi scusi signore, questi sono cannoli siciliani?" Carina asked, the man behind the counter.
[Excuse me sir, these are Sicilian cannoli]

"La ricetta, sì. Quella di mio genero, Antonio."
[The recipe, yes. My son-in-law Antonio's.]

"Ah molto bene, potevo dirlo dalle creste e dalle bolle."
[Ah very good, I could tell by the ridges and bubbles]

"Una vera donna siciliana."
[a true sicilian woman]

"Bah grazie. Allora, ne avremo uno alla crema semplice, uno al cioccolato, uno alla fragola e infine uno al pistacchio."
[Well, thanks. So, we'll have one with plain cream, one with chocolate, one with strawberry, and finally one with pistachio.]

"Ah, sì, sicuramente una donna siciliana." He grinned boxing up her selection.
[Ah, yes, definitely a Sicilian woman]

Carina’s cheeks blushed, "grazie. Possiamo avere anche i tuoi biscotti alle mandorle? 4 per favore. Me li ricordo dall'ultima volta che siamo venuti!”
[Can we also have your almond biscotti? 4 please. I remember them from last time we came!]

“Certo, certo.” he nodded.

“E possiamo avere due trecce al cioccolato soffice e due cornetti al cioccolato. E-" she turned to Maya, "which bread bambina?"
[And we can have two trecce al cioccolato soffice and two chocolate cornetti]

"Maybe the baguette and that rye one over there." Maya pointed to the back shelf

"Va bene. La baguette, il pane di segale e... oh e una focaccia, quella classica, per favore."
[Okay. The baguette, the rye bread, and... oh, and a focaccia, the classic one, please.]

"Certo," he smiled, bagging up the rest of their items.

In no time, the man was handing over the final bag with a smile, the paper warm and heavy in Carina’s hands. The older woman shot him a look that promised further scolding once they were gone.

“Buon Natale. Buona vigilia,” she said more gently this time.

“Buon Natale. Buona vigilia,” Carina echoed.

The bell chimed again as they stepped back outside, the cold rushing in to meet them. Snow had begun to fall in earnest now, soft flakes clinging to Maya’s hat and Carina’s scarf almost immediately.

Maya adjusted her grip on the bags. “Okay,” she said, amused. “I think we just bought half the bakery.”

Carina laughed, lighter than she’d felt in a long while. “It is Christmas Eve. And I am Sicilian. And you are married to a Sicilian. It's basically tradition."

They stood there for a moment, breath puffing out in visible swirls. Carina glanced down the square, her gaze settling on the church at the far end, its doors open, light spilling quietly onto the snow.

Maya watched her for a moment, stepping forward to rest a hand on her lower back. "We should go in," she said softly.

"I- no, it's okay. It's fine," Carina said, her eyes not leaving the church and its glowing windows.

"Okay, but it's okay if you want to. I know your, uhm, your feelings are complicated. But we could go in and sit. Remember Andrew and your mom. Maybe light a candle? But I'm not gonna make you and we can always come back later."

"Would you? We can? Can we do that?"

"Of course we can, babe," Maya said, just as softly as ever. She slipped her gloved hand into Carina’s and guided them across the square and up the steps to the quaint Church.

It wasn't a grand building; small enough that Carina was sure all of the regular congregation knew everyone's business. It actually reminded her of the church she grew up going to in her home town. Except instead of sunshine painting the steeple gold, it was snow painting it an icy blue.

Inside was where it was most similar. Even the stained glass windows showing the stations of the cross felt familiar. She'd spent many a Sunday staring at 'seconcda caduta' from her family's usual pew, poking Andrea so he'd sit still.

Italy boasted some grand churches, she could remember her Mamma crying when they went to St Peter's Basilica, but Carina loved the simple ones the best. Before she had lost her faith, it was where she felt closest to God.

Maya squeezed her hand and led them to a pew at the back of the church, their bags of pastries rustling a little in the silent church.

They sat together in the back pew for a moment, coats still on, hands laced loosely between them. The church breathed around them; the faint scrape of a boot somewhere near the altar, the soft murmur of a prayer, the steady flicker of candlelight along the side walls.

Carina let her shoulders drop, the weight of the mourning, of memory, settling without sharp edges. She didn’t pray. She didn’t need to. She could feel them with her without prayer. She just sat, eyes tracing the worn stone floor, the familiar hush wrapping around her like something remembered.

After a while she shifted, as though remembering where she was. Maya’s hand moved closer to hers, giving it another reassuring squeeze.

Carina sighed resting her head on Maya’s shoulder, eyes falling on the ornate altar, which was decorated for Christmas with blooms of red poinsettia.

Maya shifted beside her, barely a movement at all. “Do you want to light a candle?” she asked quietly, as if the question itself might disturb the peace.

Carina looked toward the alcove, rows of small flames trembling in red glass. She nodded once. “Sì,” she said, voice steady. “I’d like that.”

They stood together, moving slowly toward the candles.

"You look so beautiful," Maya smiled, leaning against the doorway into the kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hand.

"Bambina," Carina blushed, looking down at her chopping board.

"You do. You look so beautiful. It's like you're glowing. There's like this- this ethereal-"

"Ethereal?! Bambina. How many glasses of wine have you had?"

"What? Can't a girl appreciate how beautiful her wife looks."

"Bambina."

"Too beautiful," Maya kissed the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "The most beautiful, sensational, sweet, lovely, caring, hardworking, incredible woman in the whole world."

"You're making me suspicious," Carina chuckled, returning to chopping the basil, now at a slower pace, as Maya’s arms wound around her waist.

"Don't be. I'm just appreciating you."

"Well, I appreciate you. Did you get the fire lit?"

"Yup, crackling away. And Santa’s been. Or papo natale or whatever he's called here."

"Babbo Natale," Carina chuckled, "he's been?"

"Uh-huh, somehow our stockings from our fireplace at home made it all the way over here."

"How strange," Carina laughed, catching Maya’s lips in a kiss.

"Do we have to wait to eat our feast before we open?" Maya asked the moment their kiss was broken.

"Amore!"

"What?! I'm excited to see what my wife- I mean Babbo Natale- bought me." She grinned, nuzzling her nose against Carina’s cheek.

"Well, Babbo says you have to eat first."

"Ugh! Okay! I'll put some Christmas music on then. What was Andrew's favourite Christmas song?" She asked, her phone in hand.

"Really?" Carina asked, her eyes soft as she looked over at Maya.

"Yeah, I gotta judge my brother in law's Christmas music tastes."

"Madonna," she smiled, "well, before he moved to America, his favourite was an Italian song- tu scendi dalle stelle. You learn it in school and everybody knows it. I remember him and Papa singing it whilst Mamma and I cooked."

"Perfect, type it in for me," Maya said, passing her the phone.

Soon the kitchen was filled with the soft lilt of the Italian Christmas song.

Carina set the phone down on the counter and turned back to the stove, stirring slowly, the rhythm of the music settling into her shoulders. Maya lingered behind her for a moment, glass of wine forgotten on the counter, watching the way Carina moved without thinking.

When the song reached its rise, Maya stepped closer, slipping her hands around Carina’s waist. Not pulling her away from the counter, just close enough that their bodies lined up, that Maya could sway them both, barely an inch side to side.

Carina’s hand stilled. She set the spoon down on the counter and turned enough to rest her arms on Maya’s shoulders, fingers playing with the slightly curled ends of her hair.

They moved like that, unhurried and quiet. No steps. No counting. Just the warmth of the kitchen, the fire popping in the other room, the snow pressing gently against the windows.

Maya rested her forehead against Carina’s temple, drawing her closer. Carina smiled, eyes closing, and let the song carry them through. Visions of her Mamma and Papà dancing in this very kitchen swirling through her mind.

Dinner happened in stages; bites stolen, glasses refilled, the fire popping louder as the night settled in. By the time the plates were stacked in the sink and the lights were dimmed, it felt like the world outside the chalet had narrowed down to just this room.

Maya nudged Carina’s foot with her own. They were sat next to the fire, having enjoyed a traditional Italian dessert. She glanced over at the stockings and then back at her wife. “So,” she said, softer now. “Can we?”

"Sì, it's almost midnight."

Maya grinned, reaching for the stockings, laying Carina’s in her lap and her own next to her.

"I thought we were doing small presents." Carina said, looking at her overfilled stocking.

"That's rich coming from you," Maya said, her stocking was also overflowing and included a present on the fireplace as well.

"You got me this," Carina gestured around the cabin, "how could I not treat you?"

"That's very sweet, My love, thank you."

They sat there for a moment, neither of them reaching in straight away. Maya tugged Carina’s stocking a little closer, resting it against her legs, while Carina leaned into her side without thinking. It felt unhurried; like there was nowhere else they were meant to be, nothing else they were meant to do, except open what had been chosen with care and sit in the warmth of it together.

"You go first," Carina said softly, nudging Maya’s elbow.

"You sure?"

"Certo."

"Okay then."

They started light; padded running socks for Maya and a new travel mug for Carina, fit with a gift card to her favourite coffee place on the way to the hospital.

Wrapping paper piled up at their feet, kisses were exchanged, the fire burned lower, and at some point Maya refilled both their glasses without either of them really noticing.

Maya reached into the stocking and pulled out a neatly wrapped box. She carefully slid her finger under the tape, until the paper fell away revealing a box with some gloves.

"Ooooh! Thanks babe, these look great!" Maya grinned, pulling on the thin pair of gloves, flexing her hand a few times. "Thin enough for running, perfect."

"Sì, but that's not even the best bit, dammi la mano," she said, holding her hands out for Maya.

Maya frowned, passing her gloved hand over to Carina, wondering what she could mean by 'the best bit'. Carina smiled, sliding her hand into the inside edge of the glove and clicking a button Maya hadn't realised was there. "Wha-" Maya was cut off when the fingers of her gloves immediately started to get warmer. "Wait-"

"They're heated," Carina chuckled, "your hands are always so cold in the winter, especially after a run so I got you these. You can wear them under other gloves but they also work as a glove by themself too."

"Babe! They're brilliant, thank you," Maya leaned in for a kiss, pressing her toasty palm to Carina’s cheek. "These are so cool! I could wear them when driving when the weather is super cold at home! These are perfect. Thank you!" She leaned in for another kiss, "thank you." And another. "Thank you."

"They're just gloves, bambina."

"But it's the thought, you actually thought what could help. So thank you! Now... open your next present!"

Carina laughed and reached in, taking out a funny shaped gift that had a card stuck to it. "Okay it kind of goes with the mug, and open the present before the card!" Maya explained, as Carina began to unwrap.

A shout of laughter pulled from her lips as she pulled out the packet of kimbo coffee that reminded her of childhood. She immediately broke into a song that Maya gathered was probably on the commercial when Carina was growing up.

"Bambina! This was the first coffee I ever tried when I was younger. Did you know?"

"No," Maya chuckled, "I just googled Italian coffee and this came up. Open the card!"

"Allora!" Carina said, opening the card shouting "what!" As she read. "Bambina, a subscription for coffee? That's amazing."

"Not just any coffee, Italian coffee, or coffees available in Italy. The person who made the subscription is Italian herself and she sources all the coffee direct from Italy."

"Bambina, I love it, that's so thoughtful thank you," Carina smiled, kissing her cheek. "I'll have to make you a cup of kimbo caffè in the morning."

"I would love that," Maya grinned, reaching for her next present as Carina rested her head back on Maya’s shoulder.

Their piles of gifts kept growing with each present they unwrapped, both of them surprised with how much the other had fit into their suitcase. Eventually Maya pulled out a gift that had Carina grinning. "I'm excited for you to open this one!"

"As if you haven't been excited about every present," Maya chuckled, nudging her.

"Okay, but this one I'm extra excited about!"

"Colour me intrigued," Maya said, pulling the paper off just as carefully as earlier.

"Oooh! Yes! These are great headphones. I asked for these, right?" Maya asked, looking at the box of running headphones that she'd definitely had her eye on for a while.

"Sì, but there's also-" Carina reached into the stocking and pulled out a smaller box, "this to go with it. But I forgot to stick them together."

"Wanna open something and I'll open this after?"

"No! Open it now," Carina practically groaned.

Maya chuckled and opened the smaller present, frowning when she pulled out an iPod box. Carina took it from her and opened it, revealing a small iPod mini. She pressed the centre button and passed it back to Maya.

"Wait- The Man, Stronger, Survivor? Babe-"

"They're all songs that made me think of you when I heard them on the radio or in the OR. Most of them are upbeat too so you can listen whilst running."

"You made me a playlist?"

"Yeah, and look," she scrolled the dial, "Love Me Tender, and Going To The Chapel. Actually, this whole bit is songs that were played at our wedding see- At Last and Signed, Sealed Delivered, Dancing Queen."

"Oh my God Carina, that is- babe that's so thoughtful. I- thank you, I love it."

They lingered there for a while after that, Maya still scrolling through the playlist, pausing now and then to smile at a song she recognised, Carina watching her with quiet satisfaction. The fire shifted, a log collapsing inward with a gentle crack, and outside the snow continued its slow, patient fall.

Eventually Carina shifted, reaching for her next gift, "ooh, this feels like a book!"

"You'll have to open it and see," Maya smiled, nudging her arm.

Carina tore off the paper and smiled, pulling out her favourite book of all time Little Women. She'd fallen in love with it as a teenager, particularly the character of Jo. The way she was intelligent and didn't soften her ambition, but yet was still deeply devoted to her family despite resenting the weight of it. Jo was her hope as she grew up that she could follow her dreams and defy traditional expectations. Little Women gave her permission to imagine a future when her Mamma and Andrea left.

"My favourite book, thank you bambin-" she cut herself off, a smudge of ink catching her eye as she flicked through the pages. She opened it up, gasping. The margins of the book held Maya’s words. Presumably her thoughts as she read the book that had shaped so much of Carina’s teen years.

"I read it," Maya said softly, "and left my thoughts, so as you read it feels like I'm reading it along with you."

"Maya," Carina breathed as she traced her thumb over Maya’s careful scrawl. She had underlined the quote "I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship" and she had written in the margin 'this isn't how I have felt for most of my life, but I am learning to sail my ship, and you're helping me to do that. I hope I'm helping you too'.

"Oh my God, Maya," she said again, looking up at Maya with watery eyes, "thank you bambina, I will cherish this forever."

Maya pressed her lips to Carina’s temple. "I could feel you in this book as I read. Jo made me think of you, you share so many qualities. But I also see you in Marmee. In the way she listens. In how she holds people steady when things are hard. And Beth. You love like Beth. I feel you in how deeply she feels things. In the way she loves without needing it to be loud. The whole book."

The tears fell harder now, one splashing onto the words on the page. Maya drew her closer again, tucking Carina’s head into her neck. They stayed like that for a while, intertwined, the book in Carina’s lap, Maya’s words floating around them.

Eventually Carina pulled back and patted Maya's leg, "open your last gift."

Maya reached for the final package by the fireplace, the one that hadn’t fit into the stocking. The wrapping came away easily, revealing a small, heavy object wrapped in tissue paper.

She frowned slightly as she lifted it out. It was cool in her hands, weighty. Metal.

Then she saw the words.

“Oh,” she breathed.

It was her bib. London, 2012. Cast in gold brushed metal, mounted cleanly, her name etched beneath it.

“I know you never wanted to put your medal up,” Carina said quietly. “And I understand why. But this-” She gestured gently. “This is not about winning. It’s about who you were. And who you still are. And everything you achieved. It's not about your time. Or your papa. This is you. And I wanted to give you something you could display."

Maya swallowed, her thumb tracing the familiar letters. "I- I don't know what to say," she whispered, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"You don't need to say anything. And you don't need to put it up. But you have it in case."

"Thank you," Maya breathed, lifting Carina’s knuckles to her lips.

"You'll always be my winner, nothing can take that away."

Maya nodded, staring at the metal for a few more moments before straightening up.

“Okay,” she said softly, patting the final gift in Carina’s stocking. “One left.”

Carina slid the picture frame free.

She didn’t need to look closely to know when it had been taken. The chalet. This chalet. The Christmas tree. Andrea’s arm slung loosely around her shoulders, both of them surrounded by wrapping paper, smiling at something just out of frame.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Maya watched her carefully. “I thought… you might want it here. With us. Him here with us.”

Carina nodded, unable to speak. She pressed the photo to her chest, breathing in slowly, then leaned into Maya, resting her head against her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For making this… easier.”

Maya kissed the top of her head. “Always,” she said.

"This year has been both the best and worst year of my life. Thank you for being the best. Thank you for bringing me here. For knowing what I needed. For- for loving me."

Maya didn’t reply. She didn't need to. She just wrapped her arms tighter around Carina, lips pressed to her temple, hearts beating as one.

Outside, the snow swirled. The world breathed.

Inside, it was just them. They had each other. And that was enough.