Page 59 of A Hard Sell

Luka gave a begrudging grin. “Okay, fine.”

The bell tinkled when they pushed their way in, stamping the snow from their boots. The shopkeeper greeted them as they began to poke around.

“Do you think they sell humility?” Luka wondered, running his hand over a stack of blankets. “Self-awareness? A fucking clue?”

Thomas smiled, shaking his head. “You might need to settle for one of these nice candles instead. Look.” He held one up. Its label read ‘Not My Problem’.

“Ooh. He actually does like candles. He thinks the lighting is flattering.” Luka perused the shelf. There was also ‘Breathe’, ‘Do It Tomorrow’, and ‘LOL No.’ “Is there one that says ‘I’m a Narcissist’?”

“Hmm.” Thomas pointed. “I think this is the clear winner.” The label said ‘No One Cares’.

“Perfection. Done.” Luka picked it up. “Okay, what if I get him this and a fancy bottle of wine? Nice enough?”

“Tawney would be proud.”

“Brilliant. Cross that one off the list.” Luka tucked the candle under his arm and moved onto the next display. “Oh, look at this bathrobe,” he breathed, running his hands over the soft white flannel. “You have to feel this, Thomas.”

Thomas touched the sleeve. “Definitely a step up from yours.”

Luka gasped. “How dare you. Mine is…well-loved.”

“Literally hanging by a thread, more like.”

Luka looked at the price and grimaced. “Well, maybe not just now. Need some time to say goodbye to the old one.” He gave it a wistful pat, then went to look at the tea sets with his sister in mind.

A few shops later, Luka had done quite well. He had also found a necklace for his mom and toy guitars for his nieces. “My sister will kill me, but I’m the fun uncle,” he explained as he paid, glancing at Thomas’ empty hands. “Nothing caught your eye for your Secret Santa?”

Thomas shook his head. “Not yet. You hungry?”

Right on cue, Luka’s stomach growled. “Like the wolf.”

They found a little bistro with a small table open in a corner by the window. They wedged themselves in, coats and scarves heaped over the backs of the chairs, Luka’s bags piled next to him, their knees pressed together under the table.

They warmed their hands around mugs of coffee—decaf for Luka or he’d never sleep—and both ordered the soup of the day. A silence fell over the table as they sipped.

“So, your parents aren’t around?” Luka wanted to know more about Thomas’ life, but so far he had shared almost nothing. “If you want to talk about it.”

Thomas shifted in his chair and regarded Luka across the table for a long moment. “I was adopted when I was four. My father, the man who adopted me, passed away five years ago. Pancreatic cancer. It was just the two of us. He didn’t have any family, either. That was when I started traveling around.”

Luka reached across the table and squeezed Thomas’ hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Thomas shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

Luka looked at the hand under his, so strong and solid, and imagined how small it must have been when four-year-old Thomas had clung to his new father like his life depended on it. Then he met Thomas’ gaze. “I’m glad you’re here now, though.”

Thomas tilted his head, his eyes soft. “Me too.”

“What was he like?” Luka asked, pulling back, although he wanted to keep Thomas’ warm skin under his.

A faraway smile ghosted his face. “No one has asked me about him in a while.”

“Tell me.”

The server bustled up with their soup—butternut squash with warm, crusty bread. They ate while Thomas spoke about his father, a house painter by trade, passionate fisherman and inventor of exotic grilled cheese variations, with a scratchy beard and booming laugh. The bistro was loud around them, but they didn’t notice. Snow drifted down outside the foggy windows.

* * * *

Finally, it was the day of the office Christmas party. With four days of holiday looming, there was an air of festivity to the goings-on, Santa hats and candy canes popping up everywhere, the need to get any work done significantly diminished. Finn was once again stretched out in his chair in Luka and Thomas’ office.

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