of the shower. “Was it as good as you imagined?”
“Er…honestly it was bloody itchy.”
I chuckle. “Yep. I can vouch for the that. And I think you’ll have to help me get clean here—I have some lodged…places.”
Jamie arches one red eyebrow. “I think my knob is the main priority, babe. Unless you want a sparkly mouth the next time you give me a blowjob.”
I grin and squeeze some shower gel into my palm, getting to work on de-glittering my fiancé.
* * *
Later in the morning, we spend some time chatting with Jamie’s mom and granddad, who live in England. It’s late afternoon there and both Edward and Sara are rugged up in big wooly sweaters, drinking mugs of tea.
“So, what did you guys do today?” Jamie asks.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Sara says. “They put on a nice turn down at the pub so we stopped in there for lunch. Your granddad overindulged on Christmas pudding,” she adds in a stern voice, that, judging by her narrowed eyes, was obviously meant for Edward.
“I had two servings. And they were tiny bowls,” Edward says defensively. “I didn’t even have custard.”
“No, just a river of cream,” Sara shoots back.
Edward shakes his head in exasperation. “Jamie, if your mum had her way I’d eat nothing but rabbit food!”
“I’m sure she just wants what’s best for you,” Jamie reasons. Obviously deciding to change the subject, he asks, “So, you’re not going to Sandy’s this year?”
I’m pretty sure Sandy is one of Sara’s cousins on her father’s side. From memory, that’s where Jamie celebrated his family Christmas last year when he was still based in London.
Sara shakes her head, her eyes wide. “No, we can’t. Sandy’s a witch now and doesn’t celebrate any religious holidays.”
“She’s a what?” Jamie asks, his brows practically in his hairline. I have to admit, I’m pretty confused right now, too.
“A witch,” Sara repeats.
“Like in Harry Potter?” I ask. “Does she do magic and stuff?” Is that even a real thing?
Sara shrugs. “I don’t know. She just called one day and said she’s a witch now so she couldn’t host Christmas and suggested I make alternative arrangements.”
Jamie and I exchanged a brief, baffled glance.
“Maybe we should send Sunny over,” I suggest. “This sounds like her kind of person.”
12
Blake
* * *
“Morning, beautiful.” I offer Owen a smile full of affection as I see him coming around the corner into the kitchen, looking gorgeous as ever in his cotton pajama pants and one of my hoodies.
He’s bleary eyed and his hair looks like a bird’s nest, but he smiles in response. “Morning. Merry Christmas.” He pads over to where I’m standing by the counter mixing up the batter for crepes, and I reach out an arm for him, pulling him against me and kissing his forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
“Any updates?” he asks as he moves toward the fridge and retrieves a package of strawberries.
I know exactly what he’s referring to and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “He said yes.”
Owen chuckles. “Did you think he wouldn’t?”
I shrug. “You never know. Shay can be a lot to take sometimes.”
“That’s what makes them such a good couple,” Owen reasons. “I can’t imagine there’s anyone else on the planet who’d be able to put up with either of them.”
I laugh outright at the very accurate assessment of both my best friend and son.
Owen digs a cutting board out from one of the drawers and begins slicing up the strawberries, while I shut the blender off and set the batter aside before starting on the chocolate sauce.
We’re almost done with our prep and I’m getting the pan ready to cook the crepes when Owen’s iPad, which is sitting on the other side of the counter, starts blaring with an incoming FaceTime call.
“Oh, it’s Jai!” Owen reaches over the counter to answer the call, propping his tablet up so we can both see the smiling face of his best friend.
“Merry Christmas, Your Highness,” Owen says with a teasing grin. I chuckle, knowing how Jai hates being treated like royalty, despite the fact he legitimately is royal, having recently married the King of Korova.
“Merry Christmas,” Jai grumbles wryly. “I’ve got to say, I’m relieved to see you both dressed at least. Not with your dicks flying about like usual.”
“That was one time,” I say with an aggravated sigh. “And it was an accident.” Pin codes might have saved the world from butt-dialing, but I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do about butt-answering.
“I’m not sure why