‘After evicting you because he wanted it to be part of the castle?’
‘That’s right.’
Noah shook his head. ‘Fuck. I’m sorry.’
‘He’s within his right to do it,’ Quinn said. ‘But it’s the principle of it. Not only do I feel betrayed, but I feel lied to.’
‘Youwerelied to. He wanted it to be a ticket office, didn’t he?’
‘Yeah.’ Quinn sipped his own wine. ‘Said he realised it would cost him more money, and it made more sense to sell it. Also blamed it on the fact his staff has been leaving him.’
Noah ate the chocolate log, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the taste. At that moment, he was the cutest. ‘They’re leaving him?’
‘I got the impression from Gordon that he was a bit of a nightmare to work for during the castle renovation.’
‘Harold? A nightmare? Never.’ Noah laughed.
A new feeling struck Quinn as Noah recounted his own Christmas, which ranged from Hermione opening the curtains and an elaborate meal for two. It was light, relaxed; the tension released from his back. He was smiling, laughing along at the anecdotes, feeling like time didn’t exist. Curled up on the sofa, his hand in Noah’s, sat across from him yet close enough to smell an unfamiliar scent on him this time – a spicy one – this felt like happiness.
For a long time, Quinn thought Dougie would be it. Despite his tendency to bring Quinn down, to disparage and manipulate his feelings, Dougie seemed like the choice for Quinn. He realised now that was because Quinn hadn’t been able to find his voice. He didn’t know himself back then, and thinking now about the man he used to be, when Dougie only talked of himself, only planned for his own life, he couldn’t recognise himself. It was always easier for someone to tell Quinn what to do, rather than for Quinn to think or speak for himself.
With Noah, it was different. Like this was how it was always meant to be. Secure, like he could accomplish anything. Of course, it mattered that he’d lost his shop, and that his future now looked like it was on a different, unplanned path, but in some ways, maybe that was what he needed. Maybe Hay had offered him all that it could.
Despite the tense Christmas day, this was what mattered. The snow falling outside, casting shadows in the cosy apartment where the candles burned bright and the tree glimmered. Fruity and refreshing wine with sweet dessert. The warmth from the heating, from the sofa, from Noah’s hand.
He could get used to Christmases just like this.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Noah asked.
‘Like what?’
‘Like … I’m a marshmallow covered in chocolate.’
‘Just wondering how you taste.’
Stop it!
Except don’t.
Because despite that line, it worked. A muscle feathered in Noah’s jaw, and then Noah was on him, kissing him, touching him, and it was like the apartment roof was ripped off and the light of the angels shone upon them. Quinn swore he could hear the choir singing heavenly melodies as he pulled Noah’s T-shirt off him.
He used his fingers to trace a light dusting of the same blond hair on his pecs; the hair continued under his arms. Quinn ran his hands over his freckles, kissing his chest, his stomach. There was a trail of hair from his belly button disappearing under his jeans.
‘That wasn’t there in the Instagram photo.’
‘I’m a big boy now.’
‘How big?’
Bloody hell, whoamI?
‘Are you sure?’
Quinn bit his lip before speaking. ‘I’m sure.’
His lips were back, frantic, perfect. His hands pulled Quinn’s T-shirt over his head, and the warmth of Noah’s skin pressed against him. Noah slid between his legs, unhooking the button on his jeans, and Quinn pulled them down.
The singing angels seemed to know it was time to leave as Noah’s hands explored Quinn, his touch like a feather playing across his every nerve. Quinn arched his back, feeling Noah against him, closing his eyes as Noah’s lips went from his own, to his neck, to his chest.
