A/N: It's the most wonderful time of the year! To celebrate that and to thank all my readers for the past year, I have written this little story. On December 27th it's been one year ago that I posted the first chapter of The Gazelle and the Lion, and I can't tell all of you how thankful I am. I've learned so much, and all of you have given me so much confidence by leaving encouragement and advise. So, thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this. Love, Milou.

One.

"Hi, sweetie, how are you?"

My mom's exciting greeting never fails to put a smile on my face. She always uses the same tone when I call her. The one that tells me she's missed my voice even though we call several times a week.

"Hi, mom. I'm good. I just got home from my talk with Daniels. How are you and dad?"

"We're fine. How was the meeting? Anything exciting?" I can tell mom is curious; she even sounds a little impatient.

I called her two days ago to tell her about how my boss Eric Daniels wanted to see me. As proud moms do, she immediately thought that I was getting a raise or a promotion. I thought she was crazy, but as always, she was right. And I'm still recovering from the shock.

"He wants me to be the senior purser on the new Boeing 777-300ER," I tell her while I brace myself for the scream that follows right after the sentence has left my mouth.

"Oh my God, Ana! Congratulations! I'm so proud of you! Wait until dad hears this." I can hear her clap through the phone, and it makes me chuckle.

"Thanks, mom."

"Oh, we're so going to celebrate this when you're here in three days! I'll make sure to make your favorite dessert and dad will buy the most expensive champagne we can afford," she rambles, no doubt with red cheeks.

"About that, mom," I start before she has time to continue. "I won't be able to come over for Christmas. We're flying on the twenty-third I won't be back until the twenty-sixth, probably late in the evening."

There is a short silence and although I know that mom completely understands and encourages this opportunity, I feel bad about missing Christmas.

Celebrating Christmas with my parents has been a true family tradition ever since I was born. In the twenty-seven years of my life, I've only missed it once because my ex asked me to celebrate Christmas with his family. A few weeks after that experience we broke up.

It's truly the most wonderful time of the year. Mom always makes a five-course dinner, with Beef Wellington as the main course, a favorite of both dad and me. There is plenty of wine and the fire is always on, and after the fourth course, we always change into pajamas and snuggle unto the couch to eat dessert while we watch the Polar Express.

It's precisely why I'm having mixed feelings about my promotion. I'm grateful and excited about it, of course. It's a huge opportunity and the fact that they see me do it is an enormous compliment. But at the same time, I'm going to miss spending Christmas with mom and dad badly. The idea of being alone in a hotel room, in a city I don't know is just not how I envisioned Christmas at all.

"Is that why you don't sound as excited as you should, honey?" Dear mom. She knows me too well.

"It is," I confirm. "Being alone during Christmas just seems depressing."

"What is the destination?"

"London," I mumble while I brace myself for mom's reaction yet again.

"London?!" Mom shrieks excitedly. "Ana, that's great! I've heard that Christmas in London is gorgeous."

"I'm sure it is mom, but I'll be there alone. I don't know anybody, not even the crew I'm flying with. It's all so new, what if the cabin crew doesn't accept me as senior purser? I mean, they'll probably ask why the hell a kid like me even got the position in the first place," I ramble, suddenly feeling slightly panicked at the thought.

"Ana," mom stops me from continuing. "First, you're not a kid. You are twenty-seven years old, and Daniels would've never asked you for this position if he didn't believe in you. Secondly, you've worked your ass off for that airline, if there is anyone who deserves this, it's you. Thirdly, Christmas is just a day in a year. We can celebrate when you're back. I'll make the whole five-course meal on the twenty-seventh and we'll just pretend it's Christmas then. You will not let this chance go to waste just because you're upset about Christmas."

How I love mom. She always knows exactly what I need.

"You're right," I sigh.

"I know," she chuckles. "Besides, do you really think your father would forgive you if you'd tell him you won't fly on the 777-300? He lives for the damn thing."

I snort as I think about it for a second. She is completely right. Mom and dad both worked for American Airlines when they met each other. Mom was a ground hostess and dad worked at the repair and maintenance section. Aviation runs through their veins, and they've rubbed it off on me.

They're both retired now, but they still follow everything on foot. It's their passion, and they've been supporting me passionately as well. It's great that they know how it all works, they understand everything without me having to explain it into detail.

"How is he?"

I hear the smile behind her voice as she says, "he's good. Currently working on his beloved Mustang in the garage. By all the cursing I hear though, things don't go according to plan. I give it ten more minutes before I'm going to give him a hand."

"You're the bravest woman I know," I chuckle. "How's his right arm?"

Dad suffered a stroke two years ago. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was in California when mom called me to fly home as quickly as possible. Fortunately, the consequences weren't as bad as they first said, but his right arm is paralyzed. The doctors said it's for good, but dad isn't having any of that. He stubbornly thinks that everything will be fine.

Of course, for a guy that has worked with his hands his whole life, it's a huge adjustment. One that he doesn't accept at all, hence the cursing.

"Still limp, but he stays positive. The other day he swore he moved his thumb. I didn't see it, but he keeps saying it."

"I hope he is right," I tell her.

"Me too," she agrees. "So, what's your flight information and how late will you take off? Dad and I will track you. Oh, and you must send us a photo!"

"Right, mom. That would be very touristic. A selfie with the plane I work on," I giggle. "It's AA 6127. Take off is thirty past one in the afternoon and the flight time is about nine hours. We'll arrive at Heathrow on the twenty-fourth around seven in the morning, local time."

"Noted. Make sure you have a good night sleep honey, you're skipping a whole night. And don't forget to wear your lucky charm."

The day I flew for the first time, mom and dad gave me a gold necklace as a present. On the necklace hangs a charm of small angel wings. Ever since that first flight, I wore it every time I worked, and it now is my lucky charm.

"I will and I'll try to get some sleep, mom. If the nerves don't overtake me I'll be fine. And if not, then I have plenty of time to sleep. In my hotel room. During Christmas. Alone."

"Shut up, drama queen," mom laughs, making me giggle as well. "You'll do fine honey. Do you promise to call us when you're at your hotel? We want all the details."

"I will mom."

"Good, now start packing."

"I will. I love you. Say hi to dad for me," I tell her.

"Will do. Love you too. Bye, sweetheart."

"Bye mom," I say, followed by our usual kisses through the phone before I hang up.

Now, what does one pack for a lonely Christmas in London?

"So, you not only got a promotion to senior purser on the biggest plane in AA's fleet, but you're also spending your Christmas in beautiful London?" Kate whistles and clinks her wineglass with mine. "That's not working honey, that's a vacation."

I snort and take a sip of my delicious red wine. "Vacation on my own in a city I don't know, without friends or family."

"Still. You're in damn Europe," Kate counters.

"And while you're in Europe, you'd do well to remember that your best friend is about to pop out a fucking cute little nephew that'll probably love clothes. Especially expensive ones, from Harrods for example," Rebecca winks while she rubs her swollen belly.

"My fucking cute little nephew would do well to remember that clothes from H&M and Zara are just as good," I smirk while I move my hand to her belly as well. I've felt him move a couple of times before, and it's as enchanting as it is freaky.

When I texted Kate and Rebecca about my news this afternoon, they insisted on a dinner to celebrate. It's both because they're proud of me and because they live for nights like this, just like me.

Kate and Rebecca are my friends since high school. First, it was just Kate and me, and later we met José in a bar. He soon became part of our duo, and just three months after that he met Rebecca. It was love at first sight, for all three of us ironically, and from that moment on she was part of us as well.

It's insane to think that they are soon becoming parents now. I still remember how they dry humped each other in the back of the cab while Kate and I were sitting on each side, both drunk of our asses. Time has really flown by.

"Here we go," José says while he walks into the dining room with a huge plate full of burritos. "The famous Rodriguez burritos with extra cheese because my sexy momma is craving them."

Kate and I erupt into laughter while Rebecca's cheeks heat up. "I told you not to call me that," she hisses while she smacks her hand against the back of José's head, making it even funnier.

"Why not? It's what you are, right?" José asks while he kisses her cheek.

"No. It makes me feel like this fat gorilla or something. Just don't."

"A gorilla?!" Both Kate and I giggle at the same time.

"Well, I don't know. It just sounds wrong," Rebecca waves it off before she grabs a burrito from the plate. "Anyway, back to the subject that's important. Do you know where you're staying in London?"

"About forty minutes from Heathrow," I answer while I grab a burrito as well. "Daniels said it's in the center of London, close to the underground station."

"That's great," José nods. "It means you can actually see something while you're there. Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Tower Bridge. You should make a little city trip of it."

"I guess," I mumble. "It's the first time I'm spending Christmas alone, so it all feels a bit weird."

In the seven years that I've worked for AA, I've miraculously never worked during Christmas. I've had a few flights on New Year's Day, and during Easter, but never during Christmas. I knew that there was a huge change that it was my turn this year, but I never thought It would be in combination with a promotion.

"Maybe you won't be alone at all," Kate wiggles her eyebrows while she looks over the rim of her glass and I immediately know what she means.

I roll my eyes. "You're reading too much smut."

"I'm not," she gasps while her hand flies to her chest, faking shock. "It's a known fact, Ana."

"It is," Rebecca joins. "I actually think it's one of the main reasons all the boys want to become pilots nowadays."

Kate and Rebecca think it's a written rule that hostess, pursers, and pilots all have huge orgies during international flights. The most annoying part of their imaginations is that they think I participate in that kind of thing as well.

Now, I'm not saying it's complete bullshit since I've heard the stories as well, from colleagues who were actually there and participated, but I can honestly say that I've never done anything like that. I've told Kate and Rebecca this every time, but they just don't seem to believe it.

"Seriously, I don't even want to think about it. All the pilots I have flown with are above forty." I shiver while I think about it.

The pilots I've flown with are always nice and professional, and I'll admit that some of them certainly don't look bad, but the idea is just too weird. How can you get it on with someone you work with? How can you do it while you know that you are going to be the talk of AA once you're landing again?

"Maybe the Boeing 777-300ER holds some hotness you can't resist," Rebecca winks.

"I doubt it. Only very experienced pilots fly it, so I assume they are close to retirement."

"You gotta learn it on an old bike," José shrugs, making me choke on the sip of wine I just took.

"Jesus Christ," I mumble while I watch my three best friends laugh their asses off. Rebecca is holding her belly as if she is about to give birth, Kate her make-up is streaming down her cheeks because she is crying, and José looks at the three of us with a huge, proud smirk on his face.

"Seriously though, Ana," Kate begins when the laughter has died somewhat. "If the change occurs, and the pilot in question is a hottie, I beg you to do it. You deserve it. How long has it been anyway? Three years?"

"One and a half Kate, you know that," I bite back.

Kate holds her hands up in defense. "Just saying. It would take off the edge."

"I'm not even on the edge."

"I beg to differ," Rebecca mumbles into her glass of water as if I don't hear it that way.

"Go have a baby or something," I wave her off, making all of them laugh.

"All I'm saying is that you're a young, beautiful woman who deserves to get laid."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks, Kate."

"You're welcome, honeybear," she winks.

"However this trip will end, let's make a toast now," José comes between us, sensing that this bitching can go on for another ten minutes if he doesn't stop us. "To our best friend Ana. Senior purser who is going to own that Boeing 777-300ER."

"To Ana," both Kate and Rebecca agree while raising their glasses.

I smile and nod my head before I take another sip of wine. Fuck, I'm the senior purser on the biggest plane in the fleet. To me indeed.