On the Twelfth Day of Christmas
“Warm enough?”
“Mm-hm.” Riley stretched lazily, sighed, said contently, “This is nice.” He settled his untidy head more comfortably on Lucas’ bare chest.
“Which part?” Lucas lightly tickled Riley’s ribs, and Riley sucked in a breath. His lashes, gold-tipped crescents on his cheeks, flickered.
“The string of little white lights across the window. That was a nice touch.”
Lucas glanced at the strands of tiny lights stretched across the top of the giant picture windows.
Yes, the lights were pretty against the dramatic background of turquoise twilight and snowy mountains.
They had been especially pretty last night.
He had loved looking at Riley in that gentle sparkling light.
“I thought you’d like those.” His hand slid caressingly across Riley’s flat abdomen, smiling faintly as Riley instinctively tightened his muscles. “What else did I get right?”
Riley’s mouth twitched, but he said obligingly, “The Christmas tree. I didn’t expect that.”
“I did the lights and the tree on Sunday.” Lucas’ smile was self-mocking. “I was hoping to lure you back with the promise of Christmas dinner and all the trimmings.”
Lucas had no sentimental attachment to the holidays. Which didn’t explain why it hadn’t occurred to him before to find a compromise between business as usual and going away for Christmas. To put a little effort into creating a festive atmosphere once he knew Riley cared about that kind of thing.
He’d actually kind of enjoyed making his preparations. And he’d have enjoyed it all a lot more if Riley had been there.
Or if he could have convinced himself Riley was coming back.
“Mmm. Christmas dinner,” Riley murmured.
Lucas lifted his head, studying Riley’s peaceful face. “You’re falling asleep?” he accused, but gently.
Riley’s eyes popped opened. “I was hoping. Or are we trying out for the Guinness Book of World Records?”
Lucas grinned. “Maybe after dinner. Would you like your Christmas present now?”
Riley said dreamily, “Didn’t I have that the time before last?”
Lucas laughed, and sat up, tipping him over and into the flannel sheets.
Riley oophed his exasperation and glowered as Lucas scrambled out of bed.
He was back shortly, handing over a square white cardboard mailer neatly tied in red ribbon. He handed the envelope to Riley.
Riley studied the envelope, studied Lucas. He said slowly, “You look mighty smug, Lucas.”
Lucas’ heart was beating unexpectedly fast. He said roughly, “Open it.”
Riley, plucked at the ribbon, which slithered off with a silky whisper. He pried up the flap of the stiff envelope, gave it a shake, and out slid out a sleek black envelope.
“Don’t tell me. You bought us matching funeral plots?”
Lucas frowned. “You’re ruining the mood.”
Riley chuckled and opened the envelope. He studied the two sets of film festival passes and accompanying booklet. His expression was hard to read.
“Passes for the Sunset Boulevard Film Festival,” Lucas informed him. “In April.”
Riley looked up. He said doubtfully, “April. This April?”
“You did say, the vacation didn’t have to be Christmas.”
“I did, yeah…”
“Four days of films, parties, and talks. And the theme this year is film noir.” Which, frankly, had seemed like a good omen to Lucas. There were few things he and Riley found more entertaining than old detective films. Especially films with FBI agents.
Riley still seemed a little thrown. “This is—I wasn’t expecting anything like this.” Or anything at all, probably.
“But you like the idea?”
Maybe Riley read that sudden insecurity because he smiled quickly, looped his arm around Lucas’ neck, and drew him in, kissing him. He nodded, face brushing face, whispering, “Hell yeah, I like it, Luc.”
“I figured I probably had some catching up to do.” Given how many bottles of booze he’d used as placeholders for actual gifts over the years.
Riley shook his head. “No. Jesus. This is amazing.”
Lucas beamed. Amazing. That was not even in Riley’s vocabulary. Well, obviously it was, technically, but not a word Lucas had ever gotten out of him.
He said softly, “I figure we’ll spend a week or so in California. We can stop by your former stomping grounds, see how poor old George Potts is getting along without his best agent—”
Riley snorted, the airy sound tickling Lucas’ beard.
“We’ll go to the film festival, maybe spend a couple of days at the beach, visit your parents and get their blessing…”
Riley sat back, repeated carefully, “Get their blessing?”
Lucas nodded, said sturdily, “That’s assuming you’re saying ‘yes’.”
He was surprised at how hard his heart was pounding as he waited, watching Riley absorb it, doubt it, realize…
Riley’s face quivered, and once again, Lucas caught that glimpse of unguarded emotion, the painful defenselessness of the person who loved you most, and therefore the person you could most hurt.
The person you never wanted to hurt at all.
Lucas’ voice shook a little in the rush of all that unexpected feeling.
“I know you think you’ve got a bigger stake in this.
You’re wrong. It’s the same for me. I don’t know why it took me so long, but I want the same things.
I might be too…big picture sometimes, but you’re always the center frame, Riley. ”
Riley’s eyes got a little shiny, but then he laughed shakily. “You rehearsed that last part, didn’t you?”
Lucas grimaced, nodded, grinned. “Yeah. But it’s true, Ry. Every word.”