Page 25 of A Christmas Harbor

David raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe notthemajor prize,” Paul said, “like the ones on the top shelf at a carnival game. I’m not the three-foot-tall Minion, but I’m definitely second-shelf material. I’m easily the eighteen-inch giraffe who for some reason is wearing a jaunty bow tie and fedora.”

“Given the choice,” David said, “I would take home the sharp-dressed giraffe any day of the week.”

Paul’s lips parted, and it took everything in David not to steal another kiss, but he’d done that twice already. It was his turn tobekissed, whenever Paul was ready.

So instead he said, “I have a spare toothbrush.”

Paul covered his own mouth. “Coffee breath?”

“No, no. I was just mentioning it in case you were…ready for bed.”

Paul’s eyes lit up, then seemed to flicker with uncertainty. “Yeah, okay.” He then unfurled his long legs to stand up. “I take it the toothbrush is in the bathroom—sorry, the head? Why is it called that?”

“Because the toilets used to be at the head of the ship, beneath the base of the bowsprit.”

“The what?”

“The spar that extends from the prow.” When Paul just blinked at him, he added, “The pole that sticks out the front.”

“Oh. Where the thingies go. The hood ornaments.”

“The figureheads.” Hood ornaments!

While Paul was in the head, David washed and dried their mugs, then switched off the wall sconces but left the faerie lights on. With Paul’s coat on the rack and his shoes drying by the space heater, the place already looked ten times less lonely.

Paul reappeared, and David took his place. He removed his contacts, then brushed his teeth, staring himself down in the mirror. When was the last time he’d spent the night with someone he’d just met? Five years ago? Ten?

It didn’t matter. Paul wasn’t some random guy he’d met in a bar. Well, he wasn’t random.

David stepped out and turned to climb into his berth in the aft cabin…

…which was empty.

Had Paul left? No, the dryer still rumbled with his clothes, the studs and zipper of his jeans rattling against the interior of the drum.

“Goodnight!”

David turned and squinted down the length of theMany Waters. What the hell?

He walked past the settees and table and leaned into the V-shaped forward cabin, where Paul looked up at him from the pillow. Under the blanket, his feet were jammed against the inside of the prow, his legs bent at an awkward angle.

“Why are you in this bed?”

“Um.” Paul fidgeted with the edge of his pillowcase. “I didn’t want to assume we were sleeping together.”

David cocked his head. Maybe he’d misread all of Paul’s signals. “Do youwantto sleep together?”

“Very much,” Paul said. “Please.”

“Then get the fuck out of there and come to my bed.”

Paul threw back the covers. “Aye-aye, sir.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Not gonna stop, though.”

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