Quinn didn’t move, but he heard the hush fall over the crowd.
‘Are you okay, Quinn?’
‘Not really.’
All he could be was honest. He couldn’t stand here and put a smile on his face and say that everything would be okay, because it wouldn’t. His shoulders slumped; his head dropped. He ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes as the warm tears fell down his cheeks.
He looked at Noah, the tears making him appear as a blur. Just a few moments ago, he had felt so carefree. Now the world had crushed him, so coldly and effortlessly.
With a sinking feeling of despair, Quinn knew they had never stood a chance.
He walked to the bar and didn’t have to say anything. A shot of whisky waited for him.
‘I’m sorry, Quinn,’ Daniel said, leaning against the bar.
Quinn looked at the liquid like it was foreign to him.
He raised it, feeling numb. ‘To Kings & Queens.’
‘Kings & Queens,’ the crowd mumbled.
* * *
He didn’t even get to look at the shop one last time. When he returned, silhouetted by the castle, the door was locked and the lights off. Frost on the window permitted him to look through. Harold’s footprints had left indents in the snow.
‘What’s going to happen with all that stock?’ Noah asked, his arm linked in Quinn’s.
‘I haven’t even thought about that.’
There was so much in there he might never see again. The books, but also the opened incense packs, the half-finished jar of coffee, the kettle and the tea, the confessional booth. These things that had become a part of his life, and now they may be taken away or re-homed and he couldn’t do anything about it.
‘I guess you were my Christmas miracle.’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘Santa,’ Quinn said, as if it were obvious. ‘I spoke with him in his grotto.’
‘Sexy.’
‘Yes,’ Quinn said. ‘I asked for a miracle. No offence, but I thought that miracle would be saving my shop.’
‘No offence taken,’ Noah said. ‘I’d choose the shop, too.’
Quinn rested his head on Noah’s shoulder. His shop was so dark now; the colour gone. With horror, he noticed that the pride flag outside his shop had been torn away.
‘I can’t believe this is happening. What am I going to do, Noah?’
He was crying again, thankful that it was dark so that the shadows hid his ugly crying face. Noah didn’t seem to find it ugly, though. He looked at him, wiping the tears away, and in that moment, everything felt like it might be okay.
Or not completely shit.
‘You’re going to be alright,’ Noah said. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘I want my shop back.’
‘And if that doesn’t happen?’
‘I don’t want to go to that job in London. I don’t want to go into some corporate role. I want to help people.’
