Page 31 of His Until Christmas

He isn’t.

He waits until I hang my coat to stop me in the study doorway. His hands are light around my biceps, more a suggestion than a command that I stay put and listen. His palms rub as if in consolation as he murmurs, “Sorry, Jack. It’s too late to rehash that personal stuff. You’re moving on to bigger and brighter things for your own reasons. Doesn’t matter if it’s here in London or in New York. If that’s what you want, I’m pleased for you.” He straightens up. “At least it’s all out of my system now. I’ll make sure to focus on business for the rest of the week.”

“Out of your system?”

Me?

That shouldn’t feel this crushing. Or like I’m the one taking a dunk in icy waters. He’s only confirming he won’t cross what I said was my own line in the sand.

I still don’t like how he backs away while nodding. “Yes, Jack. Because this week together is about the foundation. About Safe Harbour. And you were right to remind me by taking me to the gallery.”

I’m not so sure about that after his revelations, but he nods again.

“Getting this doneismore important than…” His quick glance over his shoulder at a hairy sofa is a reminder of his hands skimming across more than my biceps. I can almost feel his warm palms under my shirt all over again. That phantom touch slides away, and so does Reece. He also tosses this over his shoulder on the way to the desk.

“Seeing all those rescues I helped with? That reminder of how we got started? The foundation, I mean, not you and me,” he tags on quickly. “It all means Rex is right. We do need more of the donations big fundraising events generate. A lot more. And I’ll need to learn how to magic them up without neglecting everything else once you aren’t here to make it look so easy.”

He takes Rex’s seat, which creaks again, sounding as uneasy as his next statement.

“I’ve just got to wrap my head around how to change my mindset.” These sound like some of his brother’s blackboard affirmations. “The finance side is as important as what I actually enjoy doing. Ishouldshare responsibility for it. I’ve agreed to that, so I will.”

He only sat down a moment ago. Now he gets up just as quickly, to switch places and to beg a favour.

“Show me how?”

First thing this morning, his eyes were stormy. They’re back to soft again now, which will only get him mashed and crushed in this city.

People like Smallbone won’t loosen their hold on donation purse strings unless Reece can match them step for step in adance I know infuriates Rex. I’ve seen him lose his cool and go off like a rocket. After everything Reece has shared, I can’t help thinking he couldn’t explode with any of Rex’s pissed-off fireworks even if he wanted. Reece would hold any failure inside like he held onto the fact Valentin only used him as a stepping stone. A real friend wouldn’t do thatormake negging comments about his appearance, as if he wasn’t good enough to fit into his filmmaking world. Now Reece has concerns about making the grade in finance circles. He’s tucked both worries close to his heart, and…

Mine clenches.

He adds, “Please, Jack. Got to be honest, I’m a little bit scared of fucking this up.” So I hurry, although the boss’s seat I take for a first time creaks as unhappily as I feel about Reece thinking he should change for any reason. As for being scared of fucking up? He’s brave. How many people can truly say that?

He’s also playful in the face of trauma. I wouldn’t know where to start with that, but those kids in a community centre all drew smiling faces because he helped each one of them when they were new here. He taught them to make friends, and to have hope.

That’s the gift I want to leave Reece with this Christmas, so we spend the rest of the day with spreadsheets between us, and then with a shared late lunch as I pull together data.

The afternoon passes in a flash. No surprise when charts and graphs and lists are my idea of heaven. I’m not sure Reece has the same sense of data-rich contentment. If anything, he’s back to grey when I show him what I’ve pulled together from almost three years of files and emails.

“Don’t look so worried. I’ve made it easy for you, see? Here’s the bones of a template I started over the weekend.” I swivel a laptop to show off guest lists in neat, colour-coded columns. They include the great in green and the good in gold, along withpeople he can’t let share space with Rex in scarlet. “Because back when he was slutty and single, he ripped apart as many hearts as condom wrappers. Things could get messy.”

Reece snorts, and that’s better.

“So that’s a future guest list sorted.” I repeat what Gran showed me so often made for a great party. “That’s one of the four pillars of entertaining.”

“Four pillars?”

“Yes. Location, guest list, menu, and decoration.”

“How do you know how to do any of this?”

“Remember, I spent school breaks with a planning expert. Rex did the rest.” I can’t help echoing his last snort. “You try herding a Heligan for your living. My first year was a pretty good crash course in expecting the unexpected. Planning helped keep him on track.”

I gather sticky notes that prompt me to ask him another question. I can’t do it and make eye contact, so I focus on these small squares of paper.

“Or were you really asking how I know how to collate, analyse, and make projections with data despite only having a basic admin certificate?”

“Ah.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “You saw that video.”

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