Page 55 of His Until Christmas

He doesn’t only hold his phone. Reece holds his bag and is fully dressed, or he would be if I wasn’t wearing his sweatshirt. He’s even more rumpled than usual. So is his face, which creases. “I missed a ton of messages from Rex.” He shows me.

“He’s two volunteers down?”

“Yes, and the radar is popping offanda storm is coming. If I leave now, I can get there before it does.”

He’s leaving sooner than I expected. Or that I’m ready to deal with.

I still have so much to tell him.

He speaks first, outside where his voice is starker than usual. “The water’s so cold, kids won’t…”

He doesn’t need to finish. I nod, unable to speak as he crouches to dig in his bag for something. I accept what he offers, too gripped by what he tells me to pay attention to this soft handful. “For your gran, yeah? And for you. Might help get your conversation started.”

He backs away, bag and car keys already in hand.

I’ve never wanted to roar more loudly. Instead, I squeak, “Let me know you’re okay?”

He comes back, which he doesn’t have time for. He still cups my face with a warm hand, and so what if anyone sees me standing in the street in my socks and a borrowed sweatshirt to watch him drive away a minute later.

They didn’t hear his answer.

“Not even a storm could stop me.”

The first rulein the PA handbook is on my mind the next morning.

Don’t lose track of your boss.

That’s why I pace the concourse at Paddington Station long before the train arrives with a duke aboard it. Arthur isn’t my employer, but by the time he steps off, I’ve got a whole plan of action to keep that first rule long term.

With Reece.

That means I’m in a hurry.

“Well, hello to you too, Jack,” Arthur grumbles as I chivvy him along the platform. At least he makes ploughing through these crowds of new arrivals easy. The man is a broad-shouldered force of nature. No one gets in his way, which is handy. It means we get to a second platform before another train can leave without us.

Unfortunately, that’s where he chooses to dig his heels in.

“Wait,” he booms, and at any other time, so many strangers stopping dead would be funny, but I don’t have time to laugh or to follow orders.

I’ve never needed to lead more than now, and it must show—Arthur has good hands, strong and steady, regardless of his age. They’re warm too, cupping my face in a familiar way that makes my heart ache. “What exactly is the big rush?” He glances at the train. “We aren’t getting the Tube into town to go shopping?”

We aren’t. This train will head in the entirely wrong direction for central London. All I can do is ask, “Help me?”

He nods right away, but that’s Heligans for you. When they aren’t being stubborn, they go all in for their people with no question. To be honest, he doesn’t get a chance to ask me any—the moment we settle into seats with a table between us, I spill my guts. Or perhaps it’s my heart and soul that gush out as Arthur listens.

I share with him about Rex setting me up for a working week I first dreaded. Now I only dread not getting to repeat it. I mention our fundraising template, and how Smallbone being a slippery knob was the start of a snowball rolling. “He’s so bloody desperate for an invite to the island.”

“To Kara-Enys? Over my dead body.”

Arthur is less grumpy when I mention who filled a toy library for the foundation’s children.

“American tourists? Jolly generous of them.”

He’s generous too by listening to the rest without interrupting, so I tell him how we could have sold tickets to fill ten more toy libraries in return for a single dinner with him. Then I backtrack, and he smiles during my story of glitter spilling in a community centre and mistletoe painted onto cardboard. His smile softens when I mention starry courtyards and red carpets. I skip the part where I did more with my Prince Charming than with any of those frogs I threw back, but I do mention Gran, and how what started as a distraction for her has somehow escalated. “She lost what used to light her up. I think I’ve made that worse, not better.”

He’s gruff about my motivation. “I imagine seeing where she was happy through your eyes brought her a great deal of comfort in some dark days.”

I hope so, but I also have to admit what Reece oh-so gently suggested. “Now it feels more like a holding pattern. For us both.”

---