A Christmas Chance

by Louisa Masters

  Jacob: Found this café with the most AMAZING pastries. Having coffee while I wait for you. Can we have lunch here?

  A Google Maps link followed, and Paul grinned. It was a place he often went to for lunch and where he ordered from if Lucien needed a meeting catered for.

  Paul: See you there soon.

  Their taste in food seemed to be just one more thing they had in common, and for one shining, stupid moment, Paul wondered what it would be like to live in Australia. Oh, he wouldn’t make a permanent move—not yet, anyway—but he could consider a six-month “secondment.” It could be a trial of the virtual workspace model Edouard Morel was interested in. There was already a program in place for employees to work from home several days per week should they prefer to, but it was dependent on them being able to come into the office on the other days, and more, being available to come into the office on at-home days should something warrant it. Working from across the world with no access to a Morel office would be something entirely different.

  Was he really trying to use work to justify the fact that he was making a big deal about a holiday fling? He’d known Jacob for barely thirty hours.

  Thirty hours. Was that all? It felt like so much longer—in a good way. The best way. He’d never been so comfortable before with anyone on such short acquaintance.

  Sighing, Paul forced his brain to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish it and then he’d go have lunch with Jacob and enjoy the time they had together.

  Two minutes later, he admitted defeat. This could wait until after lunch, when hopefully he’d be able to give it his full attention. Right now, the chances were high that he’d make an error.

  He switched the office line to the receptionist and Lucien’s “personal” line—which really wasn’t that personal, since all calls came through Paul—to his cell phone, and then left the office. The café was just down the street, a block and a half away. He covered the distance quickly, weaving among the usual office workers in search of lunch and the seasonal tourists who were in the area for the market.

  Jacob had snagged them a tiny table tucked into a corner, which meant they’d be out of the way of the lunchtime chaos and have at least a semblance of privacy. Paul felt some initial concern that he wouldn’t be able to fold himself into the small area, but Jacob had cheekily pulled the table away from both walls, giving them a pocket of space they could be comfortable in.

  Them, and the plethora of bags Jacob had accumulated.

  Paul leaned over to steal a kiss. “Been shopping, I see,” he said drily, and Jacob laughed.

  “It’s all just so amazing,” he enthused. “I went a little crazy. Is it okay if I stash this lot in your office for the afternoon? You can say no.”

  Grinning, Paul picked up the menu, even though he knew what he wanted. “It’s fine.”

  “Thank you.” Jacob’s smile would have had Paul agreeing to anything. “I could lug them all back to the hotel, but that would take ages, and there’s still so much I want to see.”

  “So, clearly you’ve had a great morning.”

  “You’re mocking me, but that’s okay. My mood is so great right now that I don’t even care. Come on, let’s go order and then I’ll tell you in great detail all about my morning.”

  Ten minutes later, their food had arrived and Jacob was making good on his promise. Strangely, Paul didn’t care. He was happy to listen to Jacob burble on about each and every stall he’d visited at the market.

  “…and don’t look now, but I think that guy knows you, because he keeps staring.”

  Paul looked up. “Who?”

  “I said don’t look!” Jacob hissed.

  “I’m not. I don’t even know where I should be looking. It’s probably someone I know from work.”

  “You said you were out at work, though. I don’t want to cause trouble for you.” He frowned worriedly.

  “I am, and you’re not. Relax. It’s been pointed out to me recently that I’m a workaholic. Whoever it is might just be curious about who I’m with. Or it could be someone staring at you.” He smirked.

  Jacob pursed his lips and squinted, as though thinking about something, and Paul just wanted to kiss his adorable face. Then suddenly he stood and waved across the café.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Paul hissed, grabbing his wrist. “Sit down now before—”

  “Too late.” Jacob sat down, looking smug. “He saw and he’s coming over.”

  Paul still couldn’t see who Jacob was talking about—the angle of his seat and the lunchtime crowds blocked his view. Until the crowd parted and a familiar face came into view.

  He groaned.

  “What? Do we not like him?”

  Touched by Jacob’s sense of solidarity, Paul smiled ruefully. “We like him. Hello, Simon.” He really shouldn’t be surprised to see him here. His office was literally across the street, and Simon was the one who’d introduced him to this café to begin with.

  Simon hovered awkwardly by their table. “Hi. I’m sorry, I know I was staring, I was just….” He blew out a breath, then smiled and extended his hand to Jacob. “Simon Wood.”

  “Jacob Boyd. Great to meet you. We haven’t met before, have we? Your name sounds familiar. Do you work in exec recruitment?”

  “Simon used to play football,” Paul interjected. “He’s very well-known, especially here in Europe.”

  “Football… like soccer or rugby?” Jacob looked only mildly interested, and then his eyes went wide. “Oh, I remember—” He snapped his mouth shut and went pink.

  Simon made a face. “Yes, that was me in that scandal earlier this year.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up like that. But… that means you’re Paul’s boss’s boyfriend?”

  Simon was prevented from answering when his name was called at the takeout counter. “That’s my lunch. I guess…”

  Inwardly, Paul groaned. “Why don’t you come and join us?” he offered, raising an eyebrow at Jacob, who nodded.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “I’d love to pick your brain about this guy,” Jacob assured him, and Simon grinned.

  Fortunately, Jacob hadn’t been serious, or not entirely so, and after Simon dragged a chair over to their now-cramped table, the conversation returned to the subject of the market. Simon, a Brit, had only moved to Paris earlier in the year, had never been to any of the Christmas markets, and was now closely questioning Jacob about what he’d seen so far. Paul just listened to them with a smile on his face.

  “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Simon asked finally. “More markets?”

  Jacob pulled a face. “Nah, tomorrow I have an appointment with the real estate guy to see apartments.”

  “Oh?”

  “What?”

  It was difficult to say who sounded more surprised, Simon or Paul.

  “But you’re going back to Australia on the twenty-third,” Paul managed, his throat tight with… hope?

  Jacob looked confused. “Yeah, to visit with my family before I start my new job, remember?”

  “Your new job is here?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like an accusation, yet somehow, it did.

  “I’m… uh, I have to get back to the office. It was nice meeting you, Jacob. I’ll see you later, Paul.”

  Paul barely noticed Simon slipping away, so intent was his focus on Jacob, who still didn’t seem to understand why he was… discomfited.

  “Well, yeah. That’s officially why I’m here. To get the lay of the land and find an apartment.”

  “You said you were here to see the markets!” He took a deep breath. No need to shout.

  Jacob tilted his head. “Is there a problem here, Paul? Because it really seems like you’re pissed off that I’ll be moving here in January.” Hurt shone in his eyes.

  “No.” Paul forced himself to speak evenly. Did the fact that Jacob hadn’t mentioned this earlier mean that he truly was only
interested in a fling? Surely if he’d wanted something more serious, he would have already said that he was moving to Paris. “I’m just surprised. Uh, I have to get back to work. Here, give me your bags—I’ll meet you outside my office later?” He swept up the carry bags, never before in his life so glad to have big hands, and before Jacob could say another word, he was hurrying out of the café and onto the busy street.

  He bullied his way through the crowd and made it back to the office in record time. Not entirely surprisingly, Lucien was waiting for him.

  Paul dumped Jacob’s shopping behind his desk and collapsed into his chair. “Simon called you.”

  Lucien leaned against the desk. “He’s concerned about you. But this is good news, right?”

  Sighing, he rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. It should be. But why didn’t he say anything sooner?”

  “Have you talked about his new job before?”

  “Yes. No.” Paul wracked his memory for details. “I’m not sure. He mentioned that he was transferring to a new office in the new year, but I’m sure he didn’t say anything about it being here. I’d have remembered that. Wouldn’t I?”

  “Likely. Maybe it just slipped his mind, or he thought he told you. Simon said it didn’t sound like a secret.”

  It hadn’t, had it. In fact, it had just been a natural part of the conversation. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Jacob had meant to tell him. Maybe Jacob had just assumed that things between them would continue in the new year.

  Or maybe Jacob considered this a fling, and the fact that he had or hadn’t mentioned that he would soon be living in Paris was irrelevant because he didn’t intend to see Paul anymore.

  “I don’t know,” he finally conceded. “It’s fine. Whatever it turns out to be, Jacob and I will sort it out. How was the conference call?” He refused to let his personal life derail him at work. It was bad enough that they were talking about it.

  Lucien looked like he wanted to say something further, but graciously went along with the subject change. The furtive glance his boss shot him before he left made it pretty clear the topic would come up again—and that it would be discussed in Lucien and Simon’s apartment that evening.

  By the time the workday came to a close, Paul was no closer to knowing how he wanted to broach things with Jacob than he had been before. He gathered the shopping bags with trepidation and dragged his feet all the way downstairs to the street. Jacob was waiting in the same place as yesterday, but this time his face was lacking the open joy Paul had come to expect. His wary expression caused remorse to shoot through Paul.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to get upset. I was just… surprised.” He gestured to the few bags Jacob had accumulated over the afternoon. “Do you want me to take those?”

  Jacob studied his face. “That’s okay, I’ve got them,” he said finally. “I can take some more too.”

  Paul shook his head. “It’s fine. This way then.” He turned toward the Métro station.

  As they fell in step, an awkward silence grew between them, and Paul couldn’t help but contrast tonight with last night. Yesterday, the crowds had seemed to part before them. The Christmas lights had twinkled, and the air had been filled with a sense of expectation as they wandered along hand in hand. Tonight, they dodged and wove through hordes of people in the evening gloom, together but separated by the press of the crowd and the unspoken words between them.

  The magic was gone.

  It wasn’t until they’d reached his apartment and Paul had unlocked the door that Jacob’s patience ran out.

  “Okay, stop.” He dropped the bags he was holding and slammed his arm across the doorway, preventing Paul from entering. “I would really like to spend the evening and the night in your company, but not if things are going to be like this. So before we go into your apartment, we’re going to clear the air and then we’re going to have a wonderful time together. Got it?”

  The set, mutinous expression on Jacob’s usually cheerful face was so unexpected that Paul couldn’t help but chuckle.

  Jacob stamped his foot. “This isn’t funny!”

  That brought forth a full-bellied burst of laughter. “I’m sorry,” Paul gasped. “I’m not laughing at you. I’ve just….” He wiped tears from his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and forced himself to calm. “I’ve been tense all afternoon. I’m sorry.”

  The immediate softening of Jacob’s features was his reward for being honest.

  “I don’t get it,” Jacob admitted. “I thought things were good with us. I thought you’d be happy I was coming back.”

  “I am!” Paul bent and put down the bags he was carrying so he could take Jacob’s hand. “I’m thrilled. I just… I thought that if you hadn’t told me, it must mean you didn’t want to keep seeing me when you got back. And… it was just so unexpected. You don’t even speak French.”

  “Actually, I do,” Jacob corrected—in French. Then he grimaced. “My accent and pronunciation could use a lot of work, though, and your English is so good that I didn’t want you to hear how awful I sound.” He shrugged. “It seems so childish when I say it out loud.”

  “You can practice your French on me,” Paul told him earnestly, not wanting to agree about how awful his accent was—but it really was.

  Jacob smiled. “Thank you. Although sometimes we need to speak in English, just because I love hearing your accent.”

  Heat rose in Paul’s cheeks.

  “So… we’re good? We can keep seeing each other?”

  Paul smiled, giddiness rising in him. “Yes.”

  Jacob’s return grin was the best thing he’d seen since lunchtime.

  “Let’s get inside, then. You promised me dinner, and I want to show you all the great stuff I bought.”

  Laughing again, Paul swept up all the bags and tilted his head for Jacob to precede him inside.

  PAUL WASN’T SUPPOSED to work on Christmas Eve. The office had officially closed—barring skeleton staff—on December 20, which meant he’d had two and a half glorious days with Jacob before he’d taken him to the airport yesterday. He’d originally planned that today he’d clean his apartment and pack before heading home to his parents’ place for the holiday, but when he’d gotten back yesterday, he’d found himself stress cleaning to fill the void of Jacob’s absence. How had he gotten so used to having him around so quickly?

  Unable to sleep properly last night without Jacob in the bed beside him, he’d gotten up early this morning and finished cleaning and packing in record time, leaving him with the option of going to his parents’ early—which would have raised a lot of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer—or ducking in to the office for a while.

  So here he was, at his desk midmorning on Christmas Eve, sorting through the emails that had accumulated in the past three days and triple-checking that everything Lucien would need when they reopened the office was ready. It was, of course, because he’d attended to all of that before the office closed. Mostly, he was killing time and trying not to think about the fact that Jacob was right now probably going through customs and preparing to meet his family. He’d promised to call, so hopefully he’d hear from him soon.

  “…promise it’s just for a few minutes. I’m sure I left Mother’s Christmas present in my desk.”

  Paul looked up as Lucien strolled through the door, followed closely by Simon.

  “What are you doing here?” Lucien asked, surprised.

  He shrugged. “I thought I’d clear some things before I leave town.”

  “Can’t concentrate on anything now he’s gone?” Simon asked knowingly. “Luc and I are the same. Neither of us sleep well when the other’s away.”

  “I know,” Paul said pointedly, then chuckled ruefully. “But I never thought I’d be like that.” He pointed at Lucien. “And your mother’s Christmas present is not in your desk. I put it in your briefcase on Friday.”

  Lucien frowned. “
Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you looked there?” Simon asked drily, and Lucien had the grace to look sheepish.

  “When I didn’t find it with the others, I was so sure I’d put it in my desk. I didn’t look anywhere else.”

  “Did you come all the way here just for that?” Paul sneaked a glance at his phone. Why hadn’t Jacob called yet? Or messaged? Had there been a problem? Last time he’d checked, the plane had been on schedule to land at the right time. Of course, he’d made himself stop checking six hours ago, so anything might have happened.

  “…out anyway,” Simon was saying, and Paul forced himself to concentrate. “Are you staying much longer?”

  Paul looked at the time on his computer screen. “No. I need to go to my parents’ soon. The train leaves in a little over an hour.”

  Lucien opened his mouth to say something, but Paul’s phone rang, and he lunged for it so suddenly that he nearly fell off his chair. Simon laughed, but Paul was already saying, “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  Just the sound of his voice caused everything in Paul to light up. Once again, he wondered if it was too soon for him to be so involved, so attached.

  “Hi. You’ve arrived, then?” His voice was a bit hoarse. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lucien draw Simon out of the office, waving to him as they went.

  “I’ve arrived. I have my suitcase, and I’ve just been through customs. In about thirty seconds, I’m going to see my dad and have to talk to him about the weather and my nieces and nephews for an hour and a half, but first I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you already.”

  Paul took a deep breath as everything in his world settled into place.

  “I miss you too.”

  Epilogue

  Twelve months later

  EARLY IN THE morning on Christmas Eve, Paul strolled hand in hand down the Champs-Élysée with the only person he’d ever told how much he loved the magic of the Christmas lights. They both had the day off from work and plans to visit several of the markets. First, though, they wanted to start the day with a little Christmas magic.