Page 47 of Regret Me Not
“That would be amazing,” Pierce said benevolently. “The having you to cook for me. And the Christmas. And the forever. I’ll have to ask you sometime.”
“About what?” Hal whispered, wrapping his arm around Pierce’s waist.
“About forever.”
“You do that,” Hal said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Pierce pouted. “But I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll have to text. Texting’s no good. Can’t smell you then. You smell like sunshine and cookies.”
Hal sat him down in one of the kitchen chairs and cupped his cheeks. “You ask me whenever you’re ready. Don’t worry, Pierce. I’ll always be there.” And then he bent forward and took Pierce’s mouth. For a moment the sunshine went away, and they were gliding over big fluffy clouds in a starry sky.
Not storm clouds at all.
For a moment Pierce hoped Hal could see him just like that.
And then Hal was gone, doing things with the massage table and washing his hands and starting work in the kitchen, and Pierce was left staring out into space, dreaming about a starry night above the clouds while lost in the smell of sunshine.
And cookies.
IT TOOKhim about an hour to come down, and that was only because the sugar high from all the cookies gave him the kind of jolt needed to cut through all those lovely endorphins.
Finally, though, by the time dinner was done, he was completely in the moment. His body felt loose and functional, and his mind was thrilled to be following Hal’s perky banter through ham and potatoes to biting the heads off the reindeer-shaped cookies and letting the headless bodies thrash around spouting pink frosting blood.
And then pelting each other with M&M’s they were supposed to be using as decorations.
When they’d stopped laughing—and Hal had swept up the candy—they retreated to the living room to watch Christmas movies.
Pierce stared atLove Actuallythoughtfully. “Weird.”
“What?” Hal was a cuddler—he pushed aggressively into Pierce’s arms, and Pierce wrapped himself around Hal’s shoulders.
“It’s… it’s hard to know it’s Christmas here. I mean, the stores were all decked out—and the Christmas tree helps.” On one of Hal’s last trips, he’d strung lights along the valance for the blinds, and that helped too.
“It’s not cold enough,” Hal said moodily. “Not like places that snow. I hate Florida.”
“No—I mean, it’s in the sixties, so it’s a little warm. It’s….” Pierce grimaced, feeling foolish because it had taken him a month to figure this out. “It’s the sun. It’s in the wrong place. And it feels like it can’t be Christmas when the sun is in the wrong place.”
Hal squinted up at him. “Are you still on your massage high?”
Oh God—how embarrassing.“No! It’s… it’s just odd. That’s all. Odd.”
“Sure. Whatever. Besides—tomorrow’s not Christmas. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Pierce grunted. It felt more like D-day. “You know, youcouldjust come with me to my sis—”
“Wabbit season,” Hal snapped.
It was the first time they’d had to use the personal safeword that day.
“It is not,” Pierce argued. “It is not Wabbit Season. Why would going to my sister’s be—”
“Wabbit season,” Hal insisted, scowling up at him. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Pierce could have pointed out the whole car situation, but he didn’t. This felt bigger than having to cancel a Lyft an hour before it showed up at his door.
He squeezed Hal—hard. “You had better not disappear from my life tomorrow, you idiot duck,” he muttered.
“I promise, no boom.”
