Noah kissed him again. “We’ve got time. Today is for Christmas.”
Eli stilled. “And speaking of Christmas…” He threw back the sheets and dove out of the bed, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?”
A moment later, Eli returned, carrying a package wrapped in plain paper.
Its shape was familiar.
Noah grinned. “You didn’t need to wrap it. I know what it is.” He’d given the picture frame to Eli the previous evening.
Eli climbed back into the bed and handed it to him. “Merry Christmas.”
Chuckling, Noah tore off the paper—and froze.
It wasn’t Eli’s drawing of him from years ago.
“Oh, love.”
Eli had captured them both sitting on the couch, a blanket covering their laps, their arms around each other.
“When did you do this?”
“While you were making the frame.” Eli stared at him. “Do you like it?”
Noah’s throat seized. “I love it,” he croaked. He stood it on the nightstand, then pulled Eli back into his arms. “You couldn’t have given me anything more perfect.”
Eli lay with his head on Noah’s chest. “You’ve given me something too.” He peered at Noah’s face. “For the first time in years, I don’t feel as if I’m missing something on Christmas morning.” He smiled. “I feel whole.” Then Eli kissed him. “And I want you to ask me to hold your hand forever, one more time, so I get to say yes all over again.”
Noah held him close. “So. The future. I know what I said, but there are so many thoughts colliding in my head that I need to get them out.”
Eli blinked. “The future sounds like an awfully big subject. Maybe we should aim for the small version.”
Noah laughed. “Okay, that works.” He stroked Eli’s arm. “I know you have a life in Boston. Work. Friends. Your apartment.”
“You forgot plants.” Eli grimaced. “Except they’re probably all dead. Let that be a warning to you—don’t let me be in charge of anything green.”
“Duly noted.” Noah stroked Eli’s arm. “I don’t want you to feel like saying yes to me means giving all that up.”
Eli expelled a breath. “I left Boston before I knew anything was changing. Before you. Before this.”
“Does it still feel like home?”
Eli frowned, as if it was a hard question, one he’d been avoiding.
“It used to,” he confessed. “But when I left for Thanksgiving, I didn’t realize I wasn’t planning to return. But…I was lonely there. My work pattern is shifting. AI is eating half the commissions. My apartment doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Everything felt temporary, as though I was living around the edges of my life.”
Noah’s breath caught in his throat. “Eli…”
“I’m not saying Boston’s gone,” he added quickly. “I just don’t know if it fits the same.”
Noah was quiet a moment. “And Mapleford?”
Eli’s voice grew warm. “Mapleford feels like breathing again.” He reached out and took Noah’s hand. “And you feel like home.”
Noah swallowed hard. “Okay. Wow.”
Eli laughed. “Articulate as ever, Carter.”
