Page 52 of Must Love Christmas

“God, no.” Simon stopped his chair, then touched Garen’s arm with a hand that didn’t tremble. “It’s nothing personal, I swear.”

Garen wanted to believe it was true. Simon was coming home, so he must have had at least a wee bit of trust in Garen.

They said nothing more until they reached the room, where Simon maneuvered himself out of the wheelchair and back onto his bed.

Then he handed Garen a dark-blue file folder. “To prepare for tomorrow’s home inspection by the OT.”

“The what?”

“Occupational therapist,” Simon said. “Sorry, my time in hospital has infected me with acronym-itis.”

Garen opened the folder and found several sheets of information, most of which he’d already gathered online, suggestions on how to make the flat a safer place for Simon to live and move about in.

The second part introduced a whole other level of preparation, including proper body mechanics for helping Simon in and out of bed and the wheelchair, as well as signs of pain and fatigue Garen should watch for as his carer.

Wait—I’m to be his carer?Garen felt a twinge of uncertainty. What exactly would that role involve? He couldn’t ask Simon, who would surely brush aside such worries and say he’d need no help. Garen decided to ask the occupational therapist at tomorrow’s visit. Whatever it took to keep Simon with him, he’d do it.

Flipping back to the first page, Garen noticed the header. Beside Simon’s name was the date26/12/90.

“Your birthday is Boxing Day?” he asked. “So you’re a Capric—” Garen cut himself off as a once seemingly meaningless incident popped up like a gopher from the landscape of his memory.

“Yes, I’m a Capricorn,” Simon said. “I don’t believe in astrology, which you’re probably going to tell me is a very Capricorn thing.”

Garen said nothing, recalling that October afternoon when the wind had picked up a tossed penny and deposited it in the fountain, right in front of a bronze plaque of a smiling goat.

Simon squinted at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Garen bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “Like what?”Like you’re a wish come true?

“Like you’ve got some dastardly plan up your sleeve.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Garen got to his feet, deciding to head out lest he be tempted to explain. Though he found the Capricorn thing an amusing coincidence, he knew Simon might think him weird for making the connection. “I need to tidy up our flat so the OT doesn’t think you’re off to live with wolves.”

“Be honest: What sort of mess has our place become?”

“Nothing that can’t be remedied by a good fumigation.”

“What?!”

“I’m kidding on. So I’ll be seeing you Monday, then.” As he slipped on his jacket, Garen wondered how exactly to take his leave. It felt like kissing Simon goodbye would be the most natural thing in the world.

But where? A kiss on the lips might start a whole snogging session, or at least a conversation, both of which needed more time than Garen had at the moment. A forehead kiss would be patronizing, as though Simon were an aging auntie.

The cheek, then. Affectionate but not sexual. A kiss on the cheek said,I like you, but let’s keep things ambiguous until we figure shit out.

Garen went for it, leaning in and puckering up.

Simon moved his head at the last millisecond, so that Garen’s lips landed on that in-between place between the lips and the cheek—the same spot, ironically, where Simon had first kissed him.

Garen straightened up. “Monday, then?” he repeated.

“Monday.” Simon’s face was turned away as he reached for his bed tray holding the container of moussaka, but he seemed to be holding back a smile. “Might be my homecoming day.”

“I hope so.” Garen reached out and squeezed Simon’s free hand. “I promise you won’t regret staying in Glasgow. I won’t let you down.”

Simon looked up at him and squeezed back, strong and sure. “I know.”

Chapter 11

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