Page 76 of Must Love Christmas

“Brain fog? That’s me on most days.” He set the coffee tray and biscuit bag next to Simon, noticing a crisp white Oxford shirt and a chocolate-brown tie with a tan pattern draped over the chair nearest the window. “Caffeine and sugar help.”

“Is that your scientific opinion?” Simon asked as he opened the bag.

“It’s scientific fact. Caffeine and glucose help make dopamine, which helps us do tedious things that require decisions and willpower. Shall I get plates for the—oh, you’ve got some.”

Simon held up a large clean plate from a stack on the table. “Considering how long it takes me to get to the kitchen, I decided to keep some basics here. Napkins, cutlery, et cetera. I have to carry my food in bags for now, since I need both hands for the walking frame.”

“That’s brilliant.”

Simon shrugged. “Helpful tip from my online GBS support group.” He poured the contents of his coffee cup into his empty travel mug, which had a contoured, easy-grip handle and readWorld’s Greatest Mugin block letters. He went to take a sip, then set down the mug, looking troubled. “Would it be an enormous bother if I asked you to help me put on that shirt and tie for this meeting? I still can’t do the buttons.”

“Yes!” Garen practically leapt out of his chair. “I mean, sure, nae bother.”

“Ta.” Simon wrenched himself out of his green henley shirt, not asking for help with that. “I’m not required to wear a dress shirt and tie, but it makes me feel more, I don’t know,on, I guess?”

“Makes sense.” Garen held out the Oxford shirt’s left sleeve so Simon could insert his arm. “When I put on one of the museum shirts for work, it hits that ‘professional’ switch in my brain. I’m glad I don’t need to choose what to wear each day, or it’d take me twice as long to dress.”

Once Simon had both his arms in the shirt, Garen moved around front to do up the buttons. For some reason, dressing Simon felt even more intimate thanundressing him.

“Talking of work,” Simon said, “have I ever told you, you’re not what I imagined a zoologist to be like? You’re such a people person.”

“Zoology was just something I studied.” Garen turned up Simon’s collar so he could button the top button, noticing the neck had a loose fit now. “Originally I thought I’d travel the world and do field research. But then I got an internship at the museum and discovered what I really liked was teaching people—not just about animals, but other science-y things, too. There’s no law says what you study at university has to dictate the rest of your life.”

Simon looked surprised, as though he’d never considered the idea before. “Isn’t that the whole point of uni, to give you direction?”

“A bit. But it’s like offering you a globe rather than a road map.”

“A globe…” Simon stared intently at his laptop screen, which displayed what looked like a database management program. “I started as an intern too, at the same company I work for now. I’ve never worked anywhere else, never done anything else.”

Garen looped the tie loosely around his own neck, knowing he’d never be able to tie it properly from the opposite direction. “And now you’ve been away for a month…”

Simon frowned, then picked up the bag of biscuits and poured them onto the big plate, using his other hand to shield his pristine laptop from the crumbs. “I lost so much weight in hospital, and now half my trousers don’t fit. My job feels kinda like that.” He bit into a chocolate digestive biscuit, holding a small plate beneath his chin. “But maybe I’ll grow back into it, like my trousers.”

“Or maybe, unlike your trousers, your job never fitted you to begin with.”

“It did fit me, before. But this whole experience has changed me.” He fixed his gaze on the Advent calendar hanging on the wall beside the window. “Not exactly changed—more like expanded who I am and what I can be. That sounds weird, doesn’t it? You’d think it’d be limiting.”

“Not necessarily.” Garen examined the knot he’d twisted Simon’s tie into. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. “You told me last week you wanted to believe this happened to you for a reason. Maybe it was to show you another path in life.”

“But what would I do if not this?” Simon gestured to his laptop.

“You could still do this,” Garen said, “just for different people.”

“Maybe.” Simon’s phone dinged beside him on the table. “But in ten minutes, I’ve got a teleconference withthesepeople.”

“I’ll leave you to prep, then.” Garen put the tie around Simon’s neck, carefully tightened it, then straightened his collar. “There, now you look unimpeachably respectable.”

“Thank you.” Simon grasped Garen’s wrist and met his gaze. “Really. Thanks a lot.”

Garen melted inside a tiny bit. “You’re welcome.” He created a biscuit sandwich, putting a Jaffa cake between two pieces of shortbread, then pushed the big plate toward Simon. “Here, work on getting back into your trousers.”

“Isn’t that your job?” He looked up with faux-innocent eyes. “Getting into my trousers?”

“It’s more of a hobby, really.” Garen leaned over and kissed him, relieved beyond words that this morning’s mishap hadn’t been the end of them. The fact Simon was wearing the reindeer socks Garen had given him was further proof he’d been forgiven.

Still, when bedtime neared that night, he found himself torn between his desire to be near Simon and his fear of being a danger to him. So he made excuses to stay up late, attending to Jingle Bell Rocks business that could’ve waited until after work the following day.

Simon’s room was dark when Garen finally readied himself for bed. After an agonizing argument with himself, he went to his own room. Simon needed a good night’s sleep to recover from yesterday’s exertions and this morning’s setback.

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