Page 44 of Daddy's Christmas Elf
Peter Carr, the former Mr. Peter Gillespie.
“Are you okay? You look very pale.”
Peter’s voice was laced with concern, breaking through the high pitched whine screaming in Eli’s head.
What the hell was Grey’s ex-husband doing here, on Christmas Eve?
Eli nodded. “Yeah, he is,” he croaked, forcing the words out through frozen lips. “But he’s working. In his office. A call, earlier. Some crisis.” Eli still clutched the door, the only thing keeping him upright on his wobbly legs.
“Ah, yes. Nothing’s changed, then. Perhaps I could come in? It’s getting rather chilly standing here.” Peter looked up at the sky from which a fresh fall of snow was just starting.
“Er, yes. Of course. He should be finishing now. I’ll get him.” Eli jumped back, allowing Peter in.
Peter shook his head. “No, I’ll wait for a bit. I know how he is when he’s buried away in his office; he won’t appreciate being disturbed, especially if there’s a crisis on.” Peter gave a wry smile.
Eli’s stomach clenched hard. Of course Peter would know, because he was the former Mr. Gillespie, the man who knew Grey inside out.
“I’ll, erm, make some coffee if you’d like?” Eli mumbled.
“Yes, please. Black, no sugar.”
Peter dragged off his woolly hat, shaking out a mass of dark, glossy curls and raking his fingers through it. It was longer than in the wedding photo, more wild.
“I’ll be in the living room. I know where it is.” Peter laughed.
Eli dashed to the kitchen, leaving Peter to make his way through the house that had been his not so very long ago. He switched on the kettle — no way was he making a fancy coffee, Peter could have instant. Eli rummaged in the draw for a spoon, which his clumsy fingers dropped. Pouring boiling water into the mug too quickly, a droplet splashed up at him, and he swore long and hard.
“Fuck. Fuck, shit, shitty shitty fuck,shit!”
Eli snorted; his granddad would have been proud of how blue he’d turned the air.
Peter. Grey’s ex. The man who’d turned Grey’s life upside down. Here, now, in the living room, and waiting for Grey. Eli rubbed his hands down his face. Taking a deep breath, he tried and failed to stick a smile on his face.
With the coffee shaking in one hand, Eli pushed the living room door open with his other. Peter was on his knees in front of the fire, grinning down at Trevor who was wriggling around on his back, legs akimbo as Peter rubbed his belly.
Little tart…
“I miss this funny old thing so much.” Peter looked up at Eli and smiled.
Christ, he needed sunglasses to protect his sight from the dazzle. No wonder Grey had fallen for him. Eli’s heart tumbled. Now the initial shock of Peter’s arrival had passed, all he felt was flat and dejected.
Peter was stunning, there was no other word. A thick mass of dark shiny hair, hazel eyes sparkling green and gold, and cheekbones that were sharp enough to cut through stone. In the arty black and white wedding photo he’d been striking, his good looks undeniable, but it was a pale and thin version of the real life flesh and blood man.
Eli put the drink down on the coffee table and shuffled from foot to foot, unsure whether to stay or go. Was Peter wondering who he was? Eli didn’t owe the guy any explanation, Peter wasn’t married to Grey any more, but—
“I’m Eli.”
Peter got up from his knees with effortless ease. Now he was no longer bundled up in his coat, his dark chinos and plain black jumper moulded themselves to his slim, lithe body.
“Thank you for the coffee, Eli.”
Peter didn’t so much sit down on the sofa, as glide down. He picked up the drink and took a small and delicate sip, his sparkling curious gaze locked on Eli.
“As I think you may be aware, I’m Peter. Grey’s ex-husband?” The upwards inflection in his voice made the statement into a question. Eli nodded. “I wasn’t aware Grey had met anybody. Not that it’s my business of course, or not any more, although for nearly fifteen years…” Peter shrugged.
Fifteen years?Peter’s words were a punch to Eli’s stomach. Why had he never asked Grey how long he and Peter…? Eli felt a total, utter fool. He hadn’t even known Grey for fifteen days. His stomach went into free-fall
“So, you’re a friend of Grey’s? I telephoned, and he said he had somebody staying, but the line was bad. I’m guessing that somebody is you? So, how did the two of you meet?” A smile hovered over Peter’s lips, before he covered his mouth with his hand, and laughed. “I’m sorry. Please, just tell me to butt out. I promise I won’t be offended. Out and out nosiness is not my most attractive quality.”
