Page 62 of Must Love Christmas

Simon stared at their temporary two-dimensional fireplace. “That’s…really something.”

“Makes the room feel cozy and warm, don’t you think?”

“If you say so.” Simon gestured to the “brick” portion extending to the ceiling. “Now Santa will have a chimney for delivering our toys.”

“And we’ll have a place to hang our stockings.”

“I haven’t got my stocking. I could ask my parents to send it to me.”

“No need.” Garen walked past five open boxes of decorations—which he’d pushed against the wall so they wouldn’t become a tripping hazard—before finding the right one. He pulled out his own vintage 1990s red-and-white zigzag-striped stocking, along with a brand-new blue-and-white one he’d ordered online.

Simon cocked his head. “A Greek flag Christmas stocking?”

“It’s no substitute for traveling there, but maybe it’ll help you feel a wee bit better about freezing your arse off in Glasgow.”

Leaning on his walking frame, Simon took the stocking. “It’s not empty.”

“Funny, that.”

Simon gave him the side-eye, but seemed to suppress a smile as he made his way to sit on the couch, his steps with the frame already faster and smoother than when he’d come home three days ago.

He reached into the stocking and pulled out his early Christmas gift. “Reindeer socks?”

“Not just any reindeer socks. The soles are extra grippy, to stop you slipping on the floor.”

Simon laid them out on his thighs, with the antlers, red nose, and googly eyes pointing up. “They’re staring at me.”

“I hope they’re warm enough. I wanted to get you big fuzzy reindeer slippers like my own.” He held up one foot, displaying the brown furry face. “But considering I can barely avoid tripping in them, I figured they’d be dangerous.”

“These are great, ta. Sorry, I’ve not got you anything yet.”

“You’re here. That’s enough.”Ooft, that was a bit sappy, even for the Christmas season.Garen affixed his own stocking to the fake mantel with a drawing pin. “You could’ve gone back to Liverpool to recover. The fact you didn’t means you now find me tolerable, and that’s a gift in itself.”

Simon stared at the reindeer socks, fingering their felt antlers. “You thought I found you intolerable before?”

“I don’t know.” Garen straightened his stocking, then angled it again, just for something to do. “I felt very edgy around you at the beginning, like I was being judged for my myriad failings.”

“And now?”

“And now I don’t feel that way.”

“Then maybe this illness has made me less of a prick. Slightly.”

“Or it’s made me less of a bam,” Garen said. “Slightly.” He held up his hands. “Not that that makes it worth it. I’d rather we were still bickering if it meant you never had to suffer through this.”

“No. Listen.” Simon clutched the reindeer socks in his fist. “The shit I’ve been through this last month…I need to believe it was all for a reason, even if that reason is just you and me getting on better.”

Garen’s heart twisted, though he admired Simon’s ability to console himself by finding meaning in his hardship. “I wish I could say I understood, but I’ve not walked in anything like your shoes.”

“I know.” Simon offered that devastating smirk. “That’s why I’m telling you.”

“Good. The more of that, the better.” Garen took Simon’s Christmas stocking, then secured it to the “fireplace” beside his own. Finally he stepped back and examined the living room as a whole. “Something’s missing.”

“Lad, every square foot of this flat is decorated. Even the toilet roll plays a medley of Christmas carols when you tear off a sheet.”

“Until you took out the musical thingamie and hid it somewhere—a move I totally respect, by the way.” Garen went to each of the half-full boxes of decorations, hoping for an idea. “The problem is, there’s no theme in this flat. It’s just a bunch of stuff.”

“Since when do you care about themes?”

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