Page 46 of Christmas Spirit
Don’t push.
Georgie shivered, in spite of the warmth from the still glowing embers in the grate, and he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see who had whispered the words in his ear.
Silly…
“Are you okay?”
Roland was smiling at him.
Georgie nodded. Yes, he was more than okay. A lot more than okay.
“Hang on. If Nicholas has left to do whatever, that means the roads must be clear. Which means we could leave, I suppose…Oh. The car. The windscreen’s cracked and it’s got a flat.”
“It’s cracked but not shattered, and I’ve a spare tyre. But—but do you want to go?”
“No,” Georgie said, looking down.
He didn’t want to go, and leave the cocoon of the hotel. And where would he go? It was Christmas Day, and no trains were running. All he wanted was to stay wrapped up in the warm, wrapped up in Roland, with the world shut out.
He put down his toast and wriggled over to Roland, placing a palm on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, the rasp of stubble.
“No. I want to stay here with you, for as long as we can. It feels right, being here. Just us.”
Roland’s smile was sweet rain falling in the desert.
“Then let’s stay. We’ve only ourselves to please.”
After breakfast, they lay in front of the fire, sharing soft kisses and softer touches, sensual without being sexual, warm without the heat.
Georgie stretched out and looked around the room. The fire in the old-fashioned grate, the lush and verdant garland adorning the mantle shelf, and the plaster Santa which had been turned back around — somehow it now seemed comforting, rather than creepy in a vague, unformed way — and at the heavily dressed tree. It was the perfect image of Christmas.
The tree. Georgie’s eyes settled on the big, bushy Scotch Pine. There was something wrong with the tree, there were no—
“What happened to all the piled up presents?” The presents that were really only empty boxes. “There are only two.”
“What?” Roland said, unwrapping himself from around Georgie, and sitting up. “I don’t know. They’ve got labels on them, do you see?”
And Georgie did.
He shuffled across and pulled the boxes towards him. They were small, but heavy, each wrapped in bright red foil, and tied with a green bow.
Georgie read the labels. His name on one, Roland’s on the other.
“It’s the same handwriting as on the diversion signs that brought us here.” Georgie lifted his box, feeling the weight. “Do you think Nicholas left them?”
Roland nodded his head slowly. “Yes, I think he did. Shall we open them together?”
“That feels kind of right.” Georgie smiled into Roland’s eyes.
They untied the bows, letting the silky ribbons slip to the floor, followed by the bright foil wrapping. Georgie and Roland each held an identical wooden box.
Georgie glanced up at Roland and, at his nod, they opened the boxes together.
Georgie stared down at the dark blue velvet cushion.
“I don’t understand.”
He shifted his gaze to Roland’s box, to the identical blue velvet pillow, to the identical silver, heart shaped—
