I've never shared a Christmas with a boyfriend before, but I'm loving sharing this one with Mitch. Since that awful night with his father and brother, we have thrown ourselves into this whole festive thing. Yesterday, we went to a local farm shop, to rent one of those potted Christmas trees. It's only a 4ft one, so it could easily fit into the corner of my small but cosy living room. What's even lovelier about this tree, is that we can rent it again for next year if we really want to, making it both sustainable and sentimental.

I have never put myself down as a sentimental person, but being with Mitch is definitely mellowing me. Now knowing what happened to his mother and how that affected his relationship with his dad and his brother, has made me value my parents so much more. Of course, I've always loved my mum and dad, but I know I have often taken them for granted. I never want to do that again. I'm lucky. I have parents who both love and support me, I'll never be an ungrateful daughter ever again.

"How about these ones?" Mitch is pointing at some baubles that are hand-painted with various different wintry scenes upon them.

Unimpressed, I shake my head with a grimace. "God no! Too arty-farty." Is my dramatic statement to him.

Chuckling, Mitch looks at me beneath the peak of his, hiding-his-gorgeous-famous-face, baseball cap. "Arty-farty?" He's smirking now, bringing those lovely blue eyes firmly on me.

Relaxed and slightly amused, I smirk back in his direction. "Yup! They're too arty-farty. We need something more plain; dazzling, but in an understated festive way."

Laughter loudly erupts from his throat. "Dazzling, but in an understated festive way." He's playfully now mimicking me. "God, you're killing me here, Rebecca." Then he just hugs me. A hug so hearty and so completely natural. "Okay, let's look for plain but dazzling ones." He affectionately concedes, kissing my hat-wearing head.

I love how we are together.

I love the friendly, smiling, banter that we relaxingly do share.

Until today, I never knew that shopping for Christmas tree decorations could be so much fun. With Mitch, it's so much more than that. This is us bonding, being content around one another. There's no needing to be somewhere else at a specific time, it's just us being a leisurely us. We are enjoying peering into shop windows, chatting about the wonderful effort that has gone into all of the festive displays by the local traders. We have tasted locally made mince pies, stood and listened to traditional carols being sang beneath the 17th century Market House in the centre of Minchinhampton, and are now deciding on what baubles to hang from our sentimentally bought Christmas tree.

"How about these?" Reaching out, I soon have a Rose-gold glass bauble encrusted with glitter being carefully held between my fingers.

In his handsome eyes, I see a flash of humour. "It's plain and dazzling, not arty-farty at all." He states, with such charming and obvious wit.

Noticing that they have the same design in silver and pale gold, I must admit, I am beginning to get just a little bit bauble-giddy now. "Oooooo, look, Mitch? We could have all three colours, couldn't we?"

He is smiling and nodding, watching me with nothing but a serene stare. "We can and we will." He now steps closer, needing to just take me within his arms again. "How many do you think we need?" Is so softly whispered against my cheek.

"I'm not sure, we don't want to overload our tree."

With me still in his arms, Mitch calls out to the lady in charge of the charming little shop, who just so happens to be watching us both with an expression of wistful delight spread evenly across all of her much-matured features. "Excuse me? How many do you have in stock of these baubles, please?"

The thickset lady eagerly hurries over. "In that design and in each colour, I have boxes that come as a set of six."

Releasing me from his embrace, Mitch then threads his fingers together with those that are on my left hand. "Then could we have three boxes of each colour, please?"

The lady's chubby cheeks give way to her buttery smile. "Of course you can." With shopkeeper glee, she clasps both of her hands together. "It's so wonderful to see that romance is still very much alive, especially with you younger lovelies." Her smile soon moves on up to her ageing eyes. "It's always so joyous to see a couple so very much in love, it's even more joyous to see it around Christmas time. People today get so horribly caught up and stressed out with the preparations for it, that they forget to love and to enjoy it with those that they love and enjoy....it's such a shame." The sparkle in her brown eyes dull for just a second as they lower with obvious disappointment, then quickly find themselves back to our entwined hands and back to our faces. "But that's not the case here. I can see that love and joy is thriving between the two of you at this very lovely festive time." Myself and Mitch look at one another, lovingly squeezing our joined hands. That little squeeze is us saying that we understand what the lady is telling us. It's a squeeze that is saying how much we both treasure what we have. "Now, let me go and get those baubles for you." She softly announces in her subtle Gloucestershire accent before hurrying away to do just that.

Bringing the back of my hand up to his lips, Mitch kisses it with a tender smile. "We now have baubles for our tree, beautiful?"

Loving how his kiss felt, a grin of such happiness curls up the sides of my mouth. "We do." Then I wrap both of my arms around just one of his. I'm not just happy about the baubles, I'm happy because Mitch is happy. In his baseball cap, in the ancient market town of Minchinhampton, he's not being hounded by the paparazzi. Here, with me, he can meander from shop to shop without fame-induced interference. Sure, a few people have recognised him, but they have been respectful enough to allow Mitch and I to just roam where I live with an understanding and knowing glint of recognition in their eyes.

Today, we are just two people in love.

In love and buying baubles...bliss.

**

"What are we toasting to?" Hetty asks, holding her wine glass that has just a little white wine in. My lovely friend is still breast-feeding, hence why that glass of hers isn't full to its glassy brim.

"Ummm, how about good, old fashioned happiness?" Is my cheerfully said offer of what I think we should now toast to.

Mitch, Will and Hetty all widely smile, getting ready to do a celebratory clink. I too, get my glass ready. "To happiness!" Will gladly announces.

Like a tiny choir, together we all chorally join in. "To happiness!" Then we all have a little sip of our Chablis. "This is so lovely of you, B and Mitch...thank you." Hetty reaches out to stroke my arm with friendly gratitude.

"It's our pleasure, H." Bringing a little Christmas Eve gathering to both Hetty and Will is the least that Mitch and I could do for the relatively new and tired parents. We brought wine, a meat and cheese platter board, olives, dips, crusty bread and wafer thin crackers—a festive little feast for us all to now share together.

"Where are you spending your Christmas Day, then, Rebecca?" Will asks, while popping an olive into his mouth.

"We're both having Christmas dinner with mum and dad, then we don't really have much planned after that." Is what I brightly tell Will. For my own selfish reasons, I really want to make the most of having Mitch around. Even though I have been needing to do some things associated with work, it's so nice knowing that Mitch is not needing to hop on a plane back to LA until we get to the New Year. Until then, he is staying exactly where he is. With it being Christmas Day tomorrow, work has thankfully tapered off now. It's always a little manic with the lead up to it, but as the big day has been quickly approaching, things have professionally now calmed down. Unless there's a technical crisis somewhere, my Christmas should now be a thoroughly quiet one.

"Have you met Jeff and Joanna yet, Mitch? As parents go, B's are pretty great." H says with curiosity around the corners of her eyes and a full smile upon her lips.

Nodding happily, Mitch answers Hetty just as happily. "A couple of times now, haven't I?" He nudges me, grinning a little.

"You have." I amusingly agree, smiling at the memory of both occasions.

The first time mum and dad met Mitch, I purposely didn't tell them that I'd be nipping in for a coffee with him in tow. If I had, my mum especially, would have overthought it. I love my mum, but I know what she is like. She would have fussed and fussed about the dust levels in the house, the cat hairs on the cushions, not enough biscuits being in the biscuit tin, does she put on a bit of lippy or should she not? Yeah, she would have got herself in a right tizzy, and then meeting Mitch would have been forced and unnatural. And dad, he would have been stressed because mum was stressed. So I didn't tell them that I'd be bringing Mitch along with me when I rocked up for a quick coffee some days back.

That first introduction went really well. Mum and Mitch eventually got chatting about books that have successfully been turned into films, while he and dad happily got acquainted through their mutual love of sport; especially darts and snooker.

Since that first casual and unforced introduction, we then happened to bump into my parents at the Nailsworth Goodwill Evening just a couple of days later. There, we drank mulled wine together and then had a mooch around all of the craft stalls. It was on that evening that Mitch was 'officially' invited for Christmas dinner. My original plan was for me to cook us a lovely festive meal for two at my place, but seeing how well my parents and Mitch get on, and what with everything that has happened with his dad and his brother, I think time with my family is something that we both will now appreciate so much more.

"How about you guys?" I glance at both Will and Hetty, while loading a cracker up with some creamy Brie.

"Will's mum and dad are kindly having us all for dinner." Hetty eagerly tells me. "I've been told that I'll not be lifting a finger this Christmas." In a Queen-like way, her chin is jutting upwards. "Isn't that right, babe?" My friend now smirks across at her husband.

Just as he's about to have another sip of wine, Will quickly winks at Hetty before he does. "That's right, babe."

Even though they're both tired, being first-time parents is suiting both Hetty and Will. They have always been a solid couple, but now they both seem more solid and more content. "Is little princess asleep?" I ask after swallowing down my first bite of my yummy cracker.

"We gave her a bath and read her a story, then I fed her before you both came, she should sleep for a few hours now before wanting her next feed." Hetty explains as her one hand tucks the left side of her auburn hair back behind her ear.

H's hair has got longer. It's not a sharp and cute bob anymore, it's now growing into more of a neck-hugging grown out bob. I expect being a new mum doesn't really leave you much time to worry about hairstyles and such. Not that Hetty would worry about that. I know that Daisy is who comes first at the moment. Being a good mother means far more to H than any hairstyle ever will.

I admire that.

I'm quietly in awe of it.

It doesn't matter how little sleep Hetty gets, or how often her breasts leak, Daisy is the one who must come first. Which is why myself and Mitch decided to bring some good food, wine and company into their home tonight. These two lovely souls deserve a little treat. So I'm delighted to hear that Will's parents are going to be the ones doing the whole cooking-Christmas-dinner thing for them both.

"Until your little princess wakes up, I think you should make the most of that wine, H?" My eyes flick across to the Chablis that my dear friend is savouring with every tiny sip that she has.

"Oh I am, B...I really am." Hugging her glass with a cheesy grin, we all laugh at how precious that Chablis now is to Hetty.

But our laughter is interrupted by the sudden and piercing cry of Daisy on the baby monitor that's sat on the end of the mantelpiece, causing both Hetty and Will to go into parental alert; the two of them quickly putting down their drinks so they can respond to their distressed daughter. "I'll go." Says Will, thoughtfully stroking H's back.

"You sure?" Comes Hetty's loving question to Will, who is already stood up and ready to go and answer the distressed cry of his baby daughter.

Assuring his wife with another little stroke to her back, Will calmly replies. "You relax, I expect she's got a little bit of wind that's woken her up."

So myself, Mitch and Hetty all then carry on eating and drinking, listening to what we can hear on the baby monitor while we do.

"What's the matter with my princess, huh?" Will whispers to a still crying Daisy. "Have you got windy-pops?" Hearing a grown man say windy-pops is something that I can't listen to while keeping a straight face. "Or has daddy's girl had a bad dream?" We all hear him lift Daisy from out of her cot, then him trying to hush away her little infant sobs. "Ssh ssh ssh, daddy's got you now." Will can be heard pacing the carpeted floor, and the combination of that, his gentle voice and his loving presence, is calming the cries of Daisy. Then between all of the pacing and the hushing, the loudest burp can be heard from out of the baby monitor speaker. "There's that windy-pops, that was what woke you up, wasn't it princess?" Will soothingly whispers.

Mitch speaks up, with surprise spreading everywhere on his face. "If Daisy just did that burp, what the hell are you feeding that baby?" His question is amusingly directed right at Hetty.

Who, with an exceedingly smug grin, pats each one of her very ample breasts. "My girl gets the Crème de la Crème from these bad boys, Mitch." To which, my gorgeous boyfriend just laughs.

After the laughter dies away, our focus is very much back on the baby monitor speaker. "You're wide awake now, aren't you? I think my princess wants to join our little party, don't you?" Will is heard giving Daisy a tender kiss. "Auntie B and Uncle Mitch are here, I'm sure they'll both love to see you. Shall we go and see them?" Will kisses his daughter again, then we can hear his footsteps fade away from the speaker.

I'm now looking at Mitch, and he is wonderfully looking at me. We share and capture the moment. Share and capture it just for ourselves. We do that, until Will comes back into the living room with Daisy being cradled in his arms.

"Here she is! Here's our little Daisy Doo!" I happily sing out. Every time I see her, she gets more and more adorable. At nearly three months old, she's still so tiny but already developing a big personality.

Holding Daisy against him, Will sits himself down beside Mitch. "Here's your uncle Mitch, it's important that you keep him on side, he will help you meet all those boy band members that you'll one day fancy." He quietly jokes, his mouth now quirked with humour.

Mitch's eyes fix on Daisy, a sheen of wonder within them. "Is it okay if I hold her?" To mine, Hetty's and Will's surprise, my gorgeous boyfriend wants to acquaint himself with Daisy by giving her one of his Mitch Heston cuddles.

"Sure." Will says, carefully placing his darling daughter into the outstretched arms of Mitch.

"I've heard a lot about you, Daisy...it's very nice to meet you." With such ease, Mitch is holding my goddaughter within the safety of his lap and his protective arms. "You certainly are a princess, aren't you?" His voice to her is so soft and velvet-edged, so tenderly warm and impressively patient, that Daisy is smiling up at him like this isn't their very first meeting. Her eyes are fondly now fixed on him, while her tiny fingers have happily wrapped themselves all around his forefinger that he's just held out to her.

DEAR LORDY LORD, me and my womb both now need your almighty help! Seeing Mitch, with Daisy in his arms, cuddling her with such masculine confidence and such appealing ease, should become a criminal offence to all wombs everywhere in the world. Even Hetty is giving me a sideways kick, melting at the cuter than cute sight of him holding and talking to her daughter. God, this isn't right. This really isn't right. My womb and babies don't belong together. Myself and babies don't belong together. That's the whole and wonderful point about Daisy—I get to give her back to Hetty and Will.

But oh my gosh, my womb is being wonderfully awakened. Wonderfully caressed by the sight of Mitch and Daisy. No no no! My thoughts start screaming at me. I can't have my womb go all rogue on me, I just can't. But she is, she's now flirting with the idea of being filled with Mitch's child, just so she and my eyes can see more of the precious sight in front of us. Get me more Chablis, STAT!

"I think my daughter likes you, Mitch?" Hetty grins, first at my boyfriend then very much at me. "Doesn't she, B?" Her eyes are shining now with a brown show of sinful teasing.

Holding my wine, I simply smile with forced grace. "She certainly does." Is my graceful answer before ungracefully having a large, womb-sedating, gulp of my wine. I daren't look over at Mitch again, the sight of him with Daisy is just too much for the lower half of my body, which seems to be having a reproductive coup going on down there at the moment. "I think I'll just go and grab another bottle from out of the fridge." I announce, quickly rising up from my seat. "Back in a mo." Yes! More wine! That'll quieten my riotous womb! As I stride from the living room, I bypass the amused stare from Hetty (remind me again why I'm even friends with her?), I also bypass the enormously cute, fanny fluttering, vision of Mitch still cuddling Daisy. Me and my knee high boots are now only interested in the wine that's inconspicuously chilling in the fridge.

Once in the kitchen, I just need a moment. A moment to breathe. To compose myself. To stop my heart from pounding. To stop my thoughts from thinking. To stop my wakening womb, and my god, to just stop my fanny from fluttering!

Innnnnnnnnnn, and then back ouuuuuuuuuuut! Is the inner mantra that I'm using to calm myself down with. My lower back is against the kitchen worktop while I keep saying that over and over to only myself, just until I feel calm enough to grab that wine and then stroll back into the living room like nothing has happened to me from the waist down. Only, this is taking longer than I expected it to. I'm not entirely sure what is happening to me. My mind, my heart, my body, are not exactly cooperating with one another. I have thoughts, feelings and desires that I've never entertained before...not ever.