The woman in the green dress stepped in. “Jason, you need to leave. Now. Or I’m calling building security.”
He glared at her, but she didn’t flinch. She just stared him down, arms folded. “Go home,” she snapped. And finally, I took advantage of his distraction and nearly bolted from the room.
Chapter thirteen
Felix
I decided to leave early, and thought my assistant was gonna have a heart attack when I sent him home. I’d had a text from Gabriel after we’d exchanged contacts, because apparently Littles having play dates were a thing, inviting us to the Little Christmas party next Friday. I chuckled to myself. Clayton would love that. And the day before Christmas Eve was perfect. I’d even caught myself looking at online toys today. He should have a stuffie, and before I’d thought twice, I’d bought him a bear. I added a lot of clothes to the cart as well. I didn't add a coat because I loved seeing him in mine.
It was the silence that did it. I let myself in, the door locking behind me with a soft click, and for a second, I just stood there. The condo was spotless, every surface shining, every cushion perfectly in place, but it felt wrong. Hollow.
No Clayton. No Christmas music.
I went into the kitchen, flicked the lights. I opened the fridge, stared at the shelves, then shut it again. I wasn’t hungry. Not for food, anyway. I knew he had an event.
I braced my hands on the counter, staring at the marble until my eyes blurred. I kept seeing him here. The way he hovered in the doorway, waiting for permission to come in. The way he smiled when I set a plate in front of him. The look on his face when I told him he’d done well.
Shit.
I wanted him here. There was no point lying to myself about it. The idea of him at someone else’s table, cooking breakfast for another man, made my jaw clench. I wanted to be the one he looked at, the one he asked permission from, the one who knew exactly how much sugar he liked in his coffee. I wanted to be the reason he felt safe enough to sleep through the night.
I would never say it out loud, not yet, but I could feel the truth of it under my skin. If I lost him, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
I pulled out my phone without thinking. No new texts. I scrolled back to our last conversation, reading the simple words over and over. Eat. Rest. Stay off your feet. Text if you need anything. Don’t forget your ride will be collecting you at seven when the party finishes. I’ll have dinner ready.
Had I been too blunt? Too much?
I scrubbed a hand over my beard, restless. I could go to the gym, try to sweat it out, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted Clayton here, in my space, in my bed. I wanted to see him walk through the door and light up when he saw me. I wanted to watch him relax, little by little, until he stopped bracing for the next disaster.
I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the dark window. The city lights outside were cold and sharp, nothing like the glow that had filled the place when he’d been here.
I could still smell him in the kitchen. He smelled of cinnamon and Christmas wishes.
I picked up my phone again. Still nothing.
I didn’t want to scare him off. I didn’t want to make him feel trapped. But the longer I sat here, the more I realized I didn’t want to let him go, either.
If I had to fight for him, I would. No question.
I typed a quick text, then deleted it. Tried again. Deleted that one, too. Finally, I just wrote what I meant.Let me know when you’re on your way here.
I didn’t add anything else. I didn’t need to.
I poured myself a drink, set it on the counter, and waited. The amber in the glass didn’t taste like anything. Not without him. I watched the clock. Five minutes. Ten. I tried to imagine what he was doing. He still had another hour.
I looked around my empty sterile kitchen and honestly wondered why on earth Clayton would ever want to come here. Then I had an idea. I went into the hall closet and found the box under a pile of old skiing clothes I never had time to use, shoved so far back I nearly dislocated my shoulder pulling it out. Livvy had brought it over their first Christmas in the city. She said my apartment looked like a serial killer lived here, no warmth, not even a string of lights, so she’d dumped the lot in a plastic tub and told me to “try acting like a human being for once.”
It was cute, I guessed. Lots of tinsel. A tangle of gold garland with more knots than sparkle, a few glass ornaments packed in crumpled newspaper. There was a snow globe from when we were kids that made my throat tighten. And a red tablecloth with candy canes, way too loud for my taste, but—
I set it out anyway. Clayton would notice. He noticed everything.
The more I unpacked, the more I wanted to see his face when he walked in. It felt like he belonged here. That if I was going to make this place a home, it was for him. For us.
I draped the tinsel over the kitchen pass-through, ignoring the way half the glitter came off on my hands. I set the snow globe onthe coffee table and plugged in a cheap string of fairy lights Livvy had left in the box. They worked, sort of—a handful of bulbs were dead, but the rest blinked in slow, uneven pulses. I kind of liked it. Messy, imperfect. Real.
The only place for the tree was on the coffee table. It was one of those mini fake ones, plastic needles, a little battered from years in storage. I fluffed the branches and stuck the ornaments on wherever they’d fit. It leaned a little to the left, but I figured Clayton would appreciate the effort.
I wiped off the counter again, even though it was already clean. The kitchen felt different in the soft yellow from the lights. I jumped at the door buzzer and collected the package, knowing instantly it was the bear I'd ordered for Clayton. I had no clue if he'd like it or hate it.
