Page 48 of His Until Christmas

His family celebration.

I blurt, “Patrick will be there. And Sebastian.”

I won’t be. I’ll be busy telling Arthur that I’m leaving.

Christ, I don’t want to.

He keeps going so softly I have to listen. “I don’t need protecting, Jack. Anyone who loves me enough to decorate my old bedroom with more tinsel than could fill a whole castle isn’t someone to be scared of. I’m only worried about hurting her feelings by asking her not to.” Even his frown is gentle. “But meprotecting her by saying nothing isn’t helping. Something needs to break that pattern.”

He touches my phone on the table, and maybe I should feel heat climb when the lock screen shows that pic of us together. The only warmth I feel this morning comes from my chest the moment he says, “But I’m going to remember how much better I felt sharing that with you, and that’s what I want for her. To let it go, because loving people means you want the best for them, yeah?”

I nod slowly at first, then faster.

He nods back. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to that conversation, but it’s what I’ll do this weekend. I just need to think of a way to get it started.”

I don’t expect his next question.

“Your gran doesn’t get out much, right?” Before I can answer, he adds. “You said she won’t, not that she physically can’t. Grief does that to people sometimes. Feels like an actual barrier to life continuing.” He lifts his hand from my phone to touch the centre of my chest, fingertips pressing where my heart hammers. “You’ve been showing her light and sparkle she’s been missing for years. Been her window into the world, Jack. Maybe think about whether that’s only keeping a different drawer closed with both of you stuck inside it.”

That’s a lot to process this early on a Thursday morning.

Perhaps he sees so.

Reece changes the subject. At least that’s what I assume when he says, “I checked our schedule for today. You booked in another reunion for me while you prep for your interview?”

I take another bite of toast rather than admit I want that NYC spot so little it might as well be coal from Santa.

He must guess. His gaze drifts to the top of the blackboard where Patrick must have added a last-minute title to his affirmations before leaving for Cornwall.

Remember These At Your Meeting.

Reece meets my eyes next, and I almost do feel braver than I believe when he murmurs, “You’re an incredible person. A powerhouse of a PA. A gift to the foundation and to your family. You listened to my worries, Jack. Just know that I’d listen to yours if…”

A clock wasn’t ticking.

More than toast clogs my throat, so I settle for nodding again.

I do the same later after Reece leaves for another reunion that seemed like a last gift I could give him, and who cares if anyone on the Tube sees me jerking my head this firmly—London isn’t only life, it’s also anonymous, so no one looks twice.

I do have to take a second look when I get to Kensington where a neat and tidy PA doesn’t stare back from the entranceway mirror. It reflects someone as windswept as if I’d manned a lifeboat. Someone as determined as every Heligan looking out from portraits in the study where I revisit our planning template instead of doing any interview preparation.

Reece told me I let in light for him, so you better believe I’ll leave him set up for success.

Without me.

I power through making this template foolproof, and if my tongue gets busy making another attempt to reach my nose, fuck anyone who pokes fun or takes issue with my concentration. This is more important, and by the time my phone pings, I haven’t only planned a party, I’ve outlined the bones of a strategy to stagger events over twelve months instead of making each Christmas stressful for someone who isn’t fond of tinsel.

My phone pings again, twice in quick succession, and I break off, smiling at the thought of Reece sending me message after message.

That sunshine dims when I see who has actually contacted me from an unknown number.

Got some headshots of Timothy Smallbone for you, Jack Frost. How about you come get them? Now you’ve loosened up a little, you can finally pay back my investment in you.

Thank fuck the fierce version of me still has the wheel and is steering. He makes me stab a tersefuckno,then unprofessionally block Lito’s number.

Very satisfying.

I can’t block who sent the next pair of messages.

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