everything,” he says fondly. He looks less fond when he pulls the list out from under the tea canister. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t a list, it’s a fucking dissertation.” He looks at me in a worried fashion. “I’m sorry you’ve been left with so much of this. We’ve just been so busy.”
“Oh, shut up and have a mince pie,” I say, shoving one at him and watching as he practically inhales it.
“Lovely,” he pronounces, spraying crumbs everywhere.
“Did you not go to finishing school?” I smirk.
He grins and snatches another one. “No, I went to boarding school where I learnt to fall on my food as if a pack of hungry dogs were going to take it away from me at any second.”
“And that cost all that money? I grew up in a tower block where I took for granted the luxury of chewing before I swallowed.”
Silas smirks at me. “You certainly do well with swallowing, love.”
I shake my head. “Perv.”
“You know it.” He hoists himself up to sit on the counter, swinging his legs and looking like a five-year-old. He grabs another mince pie and chews it while glancing down the list. I know when he spots it because his whole body stiffens. He looks up at me. “Oz, what does this say?”
“What?” I ask innocently, putting the mince pies onto a cooling rack.
“This list.” He brandishes the paper at me. “And more particularly item number fifteen. What does this say?”
I put the tray in the dishwasher. “Oh, I don’t know,” I make myself say carelessly although my half-hidden smile must give me away. “There are so many items on there, it all blends into one.”
“Well, let me refresh your memory. I’m looking at item fifteen which says ‘make time to fuck Silas.’”
I bite my lip to stop myself laughing. “And you have a problem with that? Oh,” I say innocently. “Should I have put ‘make love’?”
“You can say it any way you like as long as it’s not item bloody fifteen. It should be at the top.” He opens the junk drawer and rummages through it before coming out with a biro. He scribbles on the list triumphantly.
I watch him as I lean against the oven with my arms crossed. “What are you writing? That’s my master list.”
“I’ve moved item number fifteen up to number one where it belongs.” He nabs another mince pie and jumps down from the counter. Grabbing my hand, he starts to tow me out of the room. “Come on.”
“Where are we going and why do you need a mince pie to take with you?”
“I need sustenance because I’m going to very forcibly knock one of the items off your list.”
“Did that sound sexier in your head?” I ask, fighting laughter.
“Come on. You can scrub my back in the shower.” He looks me up and down. “If we’ve got time to remove the twenty-seven layers of clothing that you appear to be wearing.”
“Okay, we’ll do it in the shower, and then I can clean the grout when we’re done and knock item number ten off the list.”
“Why is that even on your list? I’ve had some strange Christmases in my time, but I’ve never had one where the guests ate their dinner in my shower.”
“You might mock, but what if a shower breaks and a guest has to use our bathroom?”
“Then they’ll use it, but we’ll just make sure that we’re first in the queue given how quickly the hot water runs out. I’m a good host, but I’m not a great host if you know what I mean.” He stops and pulls me to him. “Listen, they’re friends and family, not Kim Woodburn. They won’t care if the grout is clean or not. They just want to see us.”
I run my foot across the worn carpet. “I just want things to be right. This is our first Christmas together, and I want everyone to enjoy it and know that we’re happy.”
Silas hugs me tight, kissing my forehead. “Sweetheart, they’ll only have to spend twenty seconds with us, and they’ll know that. It must shine out of me.”
I burrow my head into his chest, taking in the clean, sweet scent of his cologne mixed with fabric softener. It never fails to relax me. “I love you,” I whisper, “and I’m the same.”
He tilts my head and gives me a warm, lingering kiss. “Then relax.” He grins. “Anyway, Henry and Ivo grew up here. They’re well used to the fact that if you touch something around