Chapter Two
Nineteen Days to Christmas
I tried not to look in the mirror that morning. I didn’t want to see the bags under my eyes that I knew would be there. I’d drifted in and out of sleep, waking unrefreshed and feeling tired. The last thing I wanted was to see how I looked.
I kept expecting him to appear out of nowhere. I ate my breakfast, listened to the radio, showered, all the usual morning habits, but the whole time I was on edge. Finally, I gave myself a hard mental shake.
It was a dream, okay? Nothing but a dream. What came to mind next had me chuckling out loud. Maybe he was a bit of undigested beef. Yeah. I’d watched way too many versions of A Christmas Carol way too many times.
Yet the first thing that stirred my senses on awaking that morning had been the scent of Mike’s cologne. Today of all days…
I didn’t need this.
Forget it. Just… forget it. Your mind was playing tricks, that’s all it was.
I headed for the train, ready to tackle the morning rush-hour and the Tube’s version of a sardine can.
Getting a seat was an impossibility but I was used to that.
I grabbed hold of the nearest pole to steady myself, my earbuds in place, and shut out my surroundings, letting my favourite songs take me away from the press of bodies, the overpowering mix of sweat, aftershaves and perfumes, and the usual morning gloom.
“What about him? He’s cute.”
I swear, I almost jumped out of my skin. Mike was standing next to me, still naked. Judging by the lack of reaction from my fellow passengers, I guessed I was the only one who could see him. “For God’s sake,” I muttered.
That earned me a glare from the guy nearest to me. “What’s your problem, mate?”
Shit. I had suddenly been reduced to the loony on the train, the guy who talks to himself, the one everyone tries to distance themselves from.
“Sorry. Just talking out loud.” I gave him an apologetic glance, but the guy had already gone back to ignoring me.
You don’t have to open your mouth, you know. I can hear if you just think the words. Mike was grinning. Like this.
I wanted to glare at him, but figured the sight of me glaring at nothing would attract more attention. Now you tell me.
Mike shrugged.
Well, you could have mentioned it. Like, before I started talking out loud like a complete lunatic.
His eyes gleamed, and his lips twitched. Nah. It was much funnier this way.
I gave a surreptitious glance downward. I take it you’re not cold. Not if that hard-on was anything to go by.
Mike narrowed his gaze. When I told them I wanted to be naked, I didn’t even mention the torpedo.
This is someone’s idea of a joke. He raised his eyes heavenward.
You wait till I get back. He pointed to a guy standing on the other side of the train carriage, who was busily engaged in reading his Kindle. But he is cute, isn’t he?
I suppose. Then a thought occurred to me. Is that why you’re here? You want to fix me up with a cute guy? That was all I needed. A ghostly matchmaker. Look, I don’t need any help in that department. Where the hell did he get off, turning up the way he did? And six years to the day since he died.
Mike folded his arms. Sure you don’t. Just answer me one question. When was the last time you went on a date?
That wasn’t fair, especially when I had the sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer. To test my theory, I tried lying. It’s been a while.
Mike arched his eyebrows. Seriously? You’re gonna try that bullshit with me?
I closed my eyes, as if blocking out the sight of him would somehow block out his voice too.
Andy. Mike’s voice was gentle. It’s been six years. Who said you had to give up men? Just because I was—
I opened my eyes, and my throat tightened at the compassion in his face. I didn’t give up exactly. The words came out as a weak protest. It was more a case that nobody made that much of an impression. Not that I’d really looked.
What about Pete?
I blinked. Pete Thorpe? Pete worked in my office, and about two years after Mike had gone, he’d plucked up enough courage to ask me out for a drink. I knew he was gay, and he was nice enough, but it had felt too soon.
It was just a drink. Mike sighed. It wasn’t like he was asking you to go to bed with him.
Except you haven’t been to bed with anyone, have you?
There was that intense look again. You weren’t made to be celibate, sweetheart.
I know you, remember? You were meant to be touched, and I mean by more than your own right hand.
I use my left occasionally, I quipped.
He rolled his eyes. And joking about it doesn’t change anything.
The train jolted to a halt, the doors opened, and I fled, lost in the swell of commuters as the train disgorged its contents onto the platform. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see him.
And I certainly didn’t want to think about my sex life or the lack of it.
Six years. Six years since I lost him, and he thinks it’s okay to waltz back into my life and point out the fact that I haven’t dated, I haven’t got laid, I—
Then it hit me. I was getting angry with… What exactly was he? A ghost? A figment of my imagination? What was the point in getting stressed about something that was in my head?
By the time I was at my desk, the snow already melted from my boots, a cup of coffee next to my monitor, and the swirl of morning chatter all around me, the world had been restored to its natural balance.
Until something firm hit me on the shoulder.
I whirled around, expecting to see one of my co-workers, only to be confronted with Mike’s dick. I glared up at him. Would you be careful with that thing?
He grinned. I know. I could put someone’s eye out with it. He glanced around the office. So anybody new on the scene I should be aware of? Anyone around here who gets your heart pumping?
If I could have snorted out loud, I would have done.
Here? Have you taken a good look lately?
My co-workers comprised middle-aged women, a couple of young things who looked like they were desperate to get out of there—well who wouldn’t?
Selling insurance had to be the seventh layer of hell, right?
—and a few guys who plainly wanted to go places.
They were the ones who always made their quota, who spoke the loudest, and who I generally avoided at staff parties.
The only parties I ever attended, and that was down to my overactive duty gland.
Mike rubbed his beard. You’ve got a point. I wouldn’t do any of the guys.
I hadn’t had time to retort before the door opened, and Adam Wainwright strolled in.
Mike’s eyes widened. Well hello there. Who’s Mr Tall Dark and Handsome?
I had to hand it to him. He’d picked the only decent-looking man in the place. Adam was also the boss. Mr Clean Shaven. Mr Single. And yes, in the last year or two since Adam had arrived on the scene, my thoughts might have strayed in his direction. Not that he was gay. That much was obvious.
Now there’s a guy I wouldn’t mind getting stuck in an elevator with. Mike grinned. Why don’t you ask him out?
I was glad I wasn’t drinking at the time. I am not asking my boss on a date.
I was sure Mike’s grin widened. He’s the boss? Ooh nice.
Plus, there’s the small detail that he’s straight.
Mike’s eyes sparkled. Nothing a few whiskies couldn’t cure.
I gaped, and Mike burst into a peal of laughter. How long since I’d heard that?
Before either of us could say anything else, Adam approached my desk. “When you’ve got a minute, Andy, can you step into my office?”
I gave him my efficient smile. “Sure, Adam. I can come now.”
Oh, I’ll bet you can.
How I forced myself not to react, I’ll never know. I got up from my seat and followed him into his corner office, aware that Mike was behind me. The last thing I saw as I gently but firmly closed the door, was the sight of him miming giving a blow job.
Adam sat down behind his wide desk and peered at a memo in front of him. I didn’t take a seat.
“I just want to say well done.” He looked up and smiled. “So far you’re at the top of the leader board for this month.”
I gave a shrug. “Seeing as we’re only a week or so into December, I think there’s still a long way to go.
You watch. Joyce will have overtaken me by Christmas Eve.
She always does.” Joyce had to be the most competitive member of staff in the office.
Both Adam and his predecessor gave a bonus to the top performing member of staff every Christmas, and for the past eight years, Joyce had bagged it.
Not that anyone minded. Joyce was a single mom, raising three kids. She needed every penny she could get.
Adam laughed. “Yes, well, I wanted to give you some encouragement. Besides, don’t you think it’s time somebody else got a chance at the bonus?”
I smiled. “She works the hardest. She deserves it. And it’s those kids of hers who reap the benefits.”
Adam nodded. “Well, in that case, I’ll let you get back to it. Keep up the good work.”
“Sure thing, boss.” I walked out of his office and back to my desk, only to find Mike sitting in my swivel chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his dick as erect as it had been the previous night.
I came to a halt beside the chair, trying not to glare at him.
Because let’s face it, glaring at an empty chair would have been weird, right?
Doesn’t that thing ever go down?
Mike pulled downward on his cock, only to have it slap back against his belly with a smack. Hey, don’t blame me for what’s in your head.
He wasn’t laying the blame for his present state on me. Nothing to do with me. You said last night ‘they’ let you choose. This is all on you. I smirked. But then, you always were an exhibitionist. Let him deny that.
He got up from the chair and gestured to it. All yours. I resumed my seat, and Mike leaned in close. My nostrils reacted to that familiar scent again, and the hairs on my arms stood to attention.
So… How was the meeting with Adam? And are you going to ask him out?
Give Mike his due, he was tenacious.
One, it was fine. Two, no, I’m not, because, duh? Straight? Three, now please go and leave me alone. I have work to do. I glanced at his cock out of the corner of my eye. And take that out of my sight. It’s a distraction.
Mike laughed and smacked his dick against his palm.
And that’s another thing. Haven’t the last six years cured you of that?
He waggled his eyebrows. Why break the habit of a lifetime? Besides, you used to like it.
I pointed to the door. Go. Now. I have work to do.
What I got was Mike waving goodbye with his cock, before walking toward the door, that firm ass jiggling.
Having the same hallucination four times had to be a cause for worry, right? I mean, I probably had a tumour or something like that, causing me to see things, smell things. Because what was the alternative? My dead boyfriend has decided to pay me a visit?
Then I reconsidered. I’d rather have a ghost than a tumour.
I pushed all thoughts of Mike aside. I had work to do.