Page 56 of His Until Christmas

He nods, nodding again next at what a fierce librarian pointed out after taking one look at my lock screen, and what must have been obvious to everyone else but me. Arthur takes one look at the same image of Reece and me with a cupid in thebackground, and he doesn’t sayomfg why r u so slow. He just straightens in his seat and summarises.

“You were going to leave us.”

I nod.

“Because you care a great deal for someone who used to take a great deal of care of you.”

“Gran?” I nod.

“Andyou were going to leave us because you couldn’t see how to work under someone you wanted to be involved with?”

My throat has never been hotter.

Arthur won’t drop our eye contact. His sea-glass stare is so kind; I have no idea why people find him scary.

Perhaps I should have held that thought for a moment longer—Arthur won’t let me avoid this. “I’m not convinced any of this is about Reeceoryour grandmother.”

The train lurches. So do I when he adds, “Do you remember the first Christmas we met? You took me to see an archive of old Horse Guards photos. Then I took you to visit the Household Cavalry Museum. But do you know what I saw when those guards rode past in their winter cloaks and red plumes?” He goes ahead and tells me. “I saw a desperately sad boy who lost the person who guarded him his whole life. And do you know what I’ve watched you do ever since?” He leans closer and almost whispers, “You stepped straight into his shoes.”

He finishes me off with two statements and one order.

“Your grandfather would be so proud of the care you’ve taken. I know I am. Let me take care of you now, for him.”

I’m pretty sure we’ve left London far behind us.

Countryside must be outside this window.

It blurs, and I let it. I’m so done with fighting feelings that flood in like the light Reece promised.

It’s so much.

I’m still red-eyed when we reach our destination. Still a bit shaky as well, right up until Gran opens her front door to me.

“Jack!” She’s delighted. Then she’s concerned. Finally, she’s bewildered, and thank fuck for Heligan genetics. Arthur throws himself on his sword just like Rex would.

He takes the blame for a change in heart that has to shock her. “I’m terribly sorry, but I have to insist on keeping your grandson. He’s entirely too valuable to let go.”

That has to be a nasty surprise. It must be. I don’t know why she hugs me and won’t let go for what feels like forever, or why she hugs Arthur just as tightly, but she shares that I haven’t been the only one having NYC doubts. Gran does that over tea we drink at a table where silver candlesticks gleam like her damp eyes. “It’s so far away. I didn’t think about that until I started researching.”

“Researching?” Arthur asks, which leads to her sharing way more than lists of the movies Gramps used to call mushy but would always watch with her, hand-in-hand. Now we both get to see that she’s checked out flight times, as if I already scored a job I have zero intention of interviewing for now, let alone accepting. I wouldn’t take it, or transfer to be a PA for another London partner, which I tell her.

“I don’t want to change jobs. I mean, I want to keep working with the same people.” Here’s my entire truth. “I want to see more of Reece, not less.”

“Reece? From the foundation?”

“Yes.” I get out my phone to show her. “He took all these photos.”

There I am beside London landmarks, over and over. All of me, not slivers. I’m a whole person in each shot because of him, so I don’t stop until I reach a photo of me smiling under angels.

“Regent Street,” she sighs.

I keep scrolling, and she names places she first visited with someone we both miss. I stop when I reach a black-and-white timbered storefront. “Liberty’s.” She touches the phone screen as I dig in my pocket for what I now realise made Reece late for his library visit.

He went back first to buy this.

I spread out a remnant of fabric. It’s an off-cut, not something of great value, but this silk is also printed with locations I know are priceless to her. It’s woven with reminders of a person special to us both, so I choke this out. “Reece said this was for you. And for me.” I swallow, not sure how to explain until light glints again from candlesticks she once taught me how to polish. She also taught me how to sew on buttons, which I mention. “Remember when you cut down one of Gramps’ old cloaks to fit me, and I helped you?”

Her smile is watery. “You were so happy.”

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