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We left the next week and had yet to return. That would change in the new year as I had to testify at Clint Marley’s trial in January after the court resumed following the Christmas break. In a way, I was looking forward to it. I longed to see that abusive asshole behind bars for daring to aim that fucking gun at Tony’s back. Yet, in a way, I was happy here. Incredibly happy and loathed the idea of leaving our little retreat overlooking the Aegean Sea. Our days were calm here, peaceful, idyllic. We rose early. Old habits died hard. We played chess. We made love, and we spent time with our few guests. We ate, we sipped cocktails at night, and we swam in the stunning sapphire waters, and we curled up together at night.
Pattering through our small inn, the smell of salty air blew through the many arches of dark red clay scattered throughout our property. I could hear Lukas playing in the sunny veranda by the pool, the local musician strumming his bouzouki for our guests. It was late afternoon, barely four, and so I meandered to the kitchen. There I stole some dates, a slice of Cretan bread that I loaded up with tomato slices from our rocky but plentiful garden up back, and made myself a pot of green mountain tea. As I munched on my open-faced sandwich, I moved from the kitchen to the back patio, a wide open space with a few wooden tables. From here, the view was steep but spectacular. A peek down at the wharf showed no signs of Tony so with a hearty sigh I wandered Gayle’s Getaway, fingers of my left hand coated with tomato juice and hearty oil as I sipped at my tea while balancing the heavy ceramic mug in my right hand.
When I entered the cozy resting area/day room adjacent to our bedroom suite, I paused to enjoy the tree in the corner. Tony had gone whole hog this year on decorating. Christmas in Greece was a big thing I was learning, despite the oddly warm weather we were having this year. The locals had informed us it was usually much chillier than the temperate seventy-two today. Tomorrow the weather was forecast to change, gray and rainy, with only a few peeks of sun, which seemed to be more on par for the season.
I paused to tap at a small bell of gold amid the baubles and trinkets. It was a simple little item, nothing too grand or expensive, although it was weighty, so I knew that Tony had paid well for it despite saying he’d not. The man liked the finer things. Why he was with me—a man about as fine as a cat’s tongue—I’d yet to figure out. Still, with me he was, and pretty happy too if his smiles and coos of contentment when we were fitted together in the dark of night were any indication.
I tapped the tiny bell that read “First Xmas Together” and the jingle was sweet and melodic. Hearing it made me smile. When he’d unwrapped it after bringing it home from a quick trip to Athens to seek out a costume designer he’d met once at a party for his upcoming film project, I’d called him out.
“This isn’t our first Christmas together,” I’d said, and he just smiled that sweet smile of his as he hung it on a bough and stepped back to admire it.
“It’s our first Christmas together in my mind because we’re both together freely and openly.”
Okay, well, yeah, that made sense, I had to confess. Back in our early days, we’d been hiding our relationship. Being gay wasn’t something that you made public. Hell, Tony had married a harpy just to ensure his homosexuality was deeply hidden from the masses. No marching in Pride parades for us back in the dark, dismal days. But now...well, now we were free to be us. And so, sure, it kind of was our first Christmas together.
“See how well trained I am? You ring that bell and I appear.”
I spun, slopping my tea over my fingers, to see Tony standing in the doorway looking windblown, tan, and incredibly handsome. As always, but even more so when he was gone. Thankfully, with us both retired—or him semi-retired, I suppose—our days apart had been few and far between. Funny how attached you grew to someone’s face.
“How did I miss your boat returning?” I asked, placing my tea on a rustic side table and then wiping my hand on my cargo shorts. Yes, I liked cargo shorts. Sue me.
“You were too busy staring at our tree.”
He moved across the room, arms open, and enveloped me in a hug. I found his mouth, soft and plaint as always, and kissed him hungrily.
“Mm, you seem to have missed me,” he whispered when the kiss broke.
“A little,” I teased, snugging him tightly to me. I breathed him in, the smell of the sea on his skin mixed with his cologne, and I knew that I was home. His arms were where my heart resided. “Did you see beautiful things while you were out scouting?”
“None as beautiful as you,” he replied.
My heart did this sappy little flutter as if it were temporarily thrown off its cadence.
“Want to tell me about it over dinner or in bed?” I asked, holding him as tight as possible.
“In bed, of course. But we’ll have to be quick about it. The premiere ofTinsel Kisses for Santais tonight.”
As if I could forget. That silly rom-com movie changed my life forever. Also, it would be nice to see Rockmount again, even if it were on a screen.
“Maybe we should just wait to get into bed then. I don’t want to rush making love to you.”
“Or we could get frisky now and after the movie is over.”
Oh yeah, we could do that. Might take some effort. Neither of us were young cockerels anymore, but we could do it twice in one night. Probably.
“I love the way your mind works,” I said, stole a kiss, and led him to bed. “I love all the other things about you as well,” I added because I was a romantic bastard deep down.
Well, maybe notsodeep down as it used to be.
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The End
