Page 48 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

“Then what are we going to do? They’ll look for me. They’ll try to take me from you.”

“And they’ll fail spectacularly. I think we should stay with my mom for a few weeks, just to see how everything unfolds. They won’t think to look for you there, and if it looks like things aren’t going to die down, we can go somewhere that won’t extradite you.”

“It’s just so much fuss. I’m not worth any of this.” Elliot stared down at the blanket, feeling guilty for putting all this on Alexander’s plate. He’d asked for none of it. Alexander simply wanted to go on a relaxing cruise, and here was Elliot, barging in unannounced and making Alexander’s life more complicated. He hated himself for it, but what he hated worse was the fact he was making no effort to relieve Alexander of his new burden.

“Everything,” Alexander whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re everything and more.” Elliot’s hands were folded in his lap, and he watched as Alexander’s engulfed them, squeezing gently. “Would you like to come back to the island with me?”

Elliot nodded, sniffling. “I want it more than anything.”

“Good. That’s settled then. Should we call Mom and tell her the good news? She’s been begging and pleading for me to come home for years.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

Alexander shook his head. “My father bought it when I was thirteen.”

“The island? You can buy an island?”

“With enough money.”

Elliot arched an eyebrow. “How much money does an island even cost?”

“Trust me”—Alexander chuckled—”you don’t want to know. After he bought the land, development took another two years, so I didn’t get to visit until I was fifteen. Dad was going to call it Davenport Island, but when we visited, the whole place looked like something out of a Hallmark movie—”

“That’s what I said!” Elliot practically shrieked. “I mentioned to Mrs. Peppercorn that it looked like a Christmas film come to life.”

“That was by my father’s design. He wanted somewhere cozy to spend the winters. I was the one who suggested the island’s name. Dad used to read ‘‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ to me each year, and the line about sugarplums dancing in children’s heads always resonated with me for some reason. It just felt right.”

“I think that might be my new favorite story,” Elliot said, nuzzling in closer. He was knee to knee, forehead to forehead with Alexander, and it still wasn’t close enough. He shifted himself, rising onto Alexander’s lap and wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in Alexander’s neck. “You’ll have to tell it to me again sometime. Maybe as a bedtime story with silly voices and funny faces.”

Alexander kissed Elliot’s head. “I’ll tell you all the ridiculous bedtime stories you want.” He rocked them back and forth, his hand softly stroking Elliot’s back. “We’ll have to come up with a few traditions of our own when the baby comes.”

“I never had any traditions, so I’m afraid I may not be of much use.” Elliot chewed his cheek. That wasn’t entirely true. He had many traditions thrust upon him by Jared. Their nightly rounds of rumpy-pumpy where Elliot usually left the situation aching and sore. Their bi-yearly visits with Mother where, Elliot assumed, he was reprogrammed against his will. Granted, Elliot stayed powered down for most of their “holiday” traditions, but Jared still brought him along for the journey, so that had to count for something.

Elliot hated himself for all the things he’d never been. His heart hurt for the endless variations of himself he might have become, if he had been sold to a kinder man. A man like Alexander Davenport. Now, that man was offering him a world he’d only ever dreamt about. Even better, Alexander’s smile told Elliot he wanted it just as much as him.

“Do you have a home on Sugarplum Island, or will we be staying with your mother? I believe I liked her. I believe I liked her a lot.” Elliot wished he could remember, but the frosting-filled holes in his mind made it difficult.

“She liked you a lot, too. Probably just as much as I do.” Alexander combed his finger through Elliot’s hair. “I own the house next door to hers, so we’ll be seeing a lot of her.”

Elliot glanced down at Professor Plum, who was napping beside his knee. Reaching down, he softly stroked the fieldmouse’s head. “Does she get along with Professor Plum?”

Alexander chuckled loud enough to startle Professor Plum, who looked up at the man with narrowed eyes, silently judging him for waking him from his slumber.

“She treats him like a second son. He gets a Christmas stocking every year and everything.” Alexander rubbed Professor Plum’s pink sweater, his fingertip purposefully bumping against Elliot’s. “She’s going to lose her mind when she realizes we’re having . . .” Alexander tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed. Elliot wasn’t sure why Alexander stopped mid-sentence, but he waited the man out, allowing him time to process whatever he was struggling with. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“It’s just . . . it feels strange referring to the baby as mine. It feels like I’m laying claim to something I have no right claiming.”

“I want her to be yours, though. Mine and yours. Our little family. Are you changing your mind?”

Alexander shook his head. “I just don’t want to overstep and risk you resenting me.”

Elliot shook his head. “Never. Maybe it would help if we selected her name together.” He reached down and rubbed his tummy.

Alexander nodded. “We’ll think of something when we get to the island. I promise.” Alexander grabbed his phone and brought up his mother’s contact information. “So, when we call her, do we mention the—” Alexander shook his head, looking as if he was scolding himself internally. “Ourbaby. Do we mention our baby?”

Elliot smiled wider than ever before. His heart fluttered, and he lifted his hand to Alexander’s cheek. “Our baby,” he agreed. “Yes. I would like that. I want your mother to know.”

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