The truth was, before the incident, he had rather liked the shy, amiable young girl who was always getting underfoot. She had been surprisingly smart, sweet natured, and undemanding in a way that few of the privileged class were. And he was an unequivocal arse for letting the mistletoe incident supercede all that for the past five years. All this time, he’d never spared a thought about the continuing teasing she may be getting over the incident—only for his own. When it happened, he was older, wiser, and supposedly more mature than she. He should have taken the initiative back then to alleviate her embarrassment. He owed it to her to make up for that. His suggestion wasn’t just for his benefit—it was for her. Though it was impossible to erase the memory of that night, he could at least give her a new memory. One that reminded her of the fun summers they used to share, when there was no awkwardness or resentment between them.
