At the National Gallery: #2 (Finding Christmas Again in London Series)

First Glimpses: Frosty Friday at the National Gallery

Arrival - 6:45 PM

The December air nips at Olivia's cheeks as she waits under the National Gallery's portico, her breath creating delicate clouds that drift upward to mingle with the falling snow. The flakes disappear on her breath, but they make her feel magic in the moment. Her bright red wool coat – a desperate purchase from Harrods after underestimating London's winter – pulls snug across her shoulders as she shifts from foot to foot, Italian leather boots tapping a nervous rhythm on the centuries-old stone.

Olivia spots him climbing the steps, his tall figure cutting through the swirling fog like a sleigh through snow. Axel's charcoal suit, she notices, even in her novice Londoner state, is clearly Savile Row – the kind of bespoke tailoring that makes other men's designer labels look like they came from a costume shop or their father’s closet. It’s the kind of suit that makes her want to run her hands over his broad shoulders. She shouldn’t and she doesn’t, but she wants to, and she allows it to show on her face, something she’d never do in New York. London, in December, gives her permission. London is alight. London, in December, is magic itself.

"You dressed up," Olivia observes, catching the subtle holiday-spice notes of his cologne when he draws near, looking far fancier than he did at the office party.

"The gallery deserves proper attire, not my work gear.”

“I don’t mind navy,”...