Page 116 of Operation Sunshine
Franco turned to gaze at him. “What do you mean?”
Ben sipped his drink. “You’re the one they circle around, you always have been.”
Franco chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know about that. Maybe.” He shifted closer until his body heat seeped through Ben’s shirt. “No, they’re not just mine—they’re ours. You brought us together.”
Ben snorted. “I’m pretty sure I spent the first three months making everyone hate me. I’m convinced one day I’m going to come across a drawer filled with little Ben voodoo dolls, all with pins stuck in them.”
Franco laughed, the sound bright. “They didn’t hate you. It’s more a case that they didn’t understand what made you tick. But they stuck around. And they only did that because you cared enough to make this place matter. Even when you pretended you didn’t.”
The words lodged somewhere deep in Ben’s chest. He stared at the fairy lights, his throat thick. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“No,” Franco said, his voice quiet but fierce. “I’m not giving you nearly enough.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by faint laughter from inside. Then Franco leaned in, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Grumpy.”
Ben glanced at him and smiled. “Merry Christmas, my sunshine.”
Their lips met in a kiss that hummed low and sure, a promise more than a plea. And when Franco pulled back, his eyes shone with something that made Ben’s chest ache.
“I’m home,” Franco said simply.
Ben swallowed hard, brushing a thumb across his jaw. “Yeah, you are.”
Inside, the party grew louder, Ollie demanding another round of shots, Mina protesting she wanted pavlova first, Lexie arguing about who’d be stuck with cleanup. Raj’s laughter boomed, and Willow was still singing.
On the patio, the cicadas buzzed in the hot night, and Franco’s hand twined through his, leaning his head against Ben’s shoulder, his crown slipping sideways.
Ben didn’t bother fixing it but held on to Franco’s hand.
Christmas wasn’t snow or sleigh bells or pine needles. It was laughter. It was family.
It was Franco’s smile in the light of a summer’s evening.
And that was all he’d ever need.
“Next year,” Franco murmured, “I’m making panettone from scratch.”
Ben snorted, tightening his hold. “Next year, you’re making coffee in the morning and staying in bed the rest of the day.”
They both laughed, and then Ben took Franco in his arms.
“I know one thing I’m sure of,” he whispered, his lips brushing over Franco’s ear, loving the tiny shiver that rippled through him.
“What’s that?”
“Next year, and all the years after that?” Ben smiled. “They’re ours.”
The End
