Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Jackson managed a nervous laugh in response. “Oh right. Yeah. Course.” His brain was still unhelpfully locked onto the idea of Nick grabbing his dick.
“Come on, surely snogging me isn’t that terrible a prospect? I’ve been told I’m a great kisser, and I have good oral hygiene.”
“I’m sure I’ll cope.” Jackson managed to keep his tone light, but his heart was thumping hard.
Twenty minutes later it was beating even faster as Nick turned off a narrow country lane onto a track lined with tall evergreen hedges, saying, “Here we are.”
The track opened out onto a gravel drive in front of a building that looked as if it might once have been a farmhouse. The winter afternoon sunshine lent extra warmth to the limestone walls. It was beautiful, and so was the rambling garden that surrounded it.
Jackson stared in amazement. “Wow. You never let on your home was as fancy as this.”
“It’s not my home,” Nick said flatly.
“Okay, but you know what I mean. Is this where they lived when you were growing up?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s pretty impressive.”
Nick shrugged as he drew to a halt in front of the house. “I suppose. I just took it for granted when I was a kid. Right. You ready for this?”
“Not really. You?”
That earned him a chuckle. “Nope. But let’s get it over with.”
They got out of the car. Jackson went to open the boot, but Nick said, “Leave the cases for now. Come on.”
As they approached the front door together, Nick took Jackson’s hand. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Jackson hoped his palm wasn’t too sweaty with nerves. “It’s fine.”
Three
Nick’s stomach was churning with anxiety as he rang the doorbell. With every cell in his body screaming for him to run in the opposite direction, only the warm reassurance of Jackson’s hand holding his in a steady grip stopped him from bolting.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he muttered.
Jackson squeezed his hand more tightly.
A few more painful seconds ticked past, and then finally the door opened to reveal Maria beaming at them.
“Nick, Jackson! The happy couple.” She winked meaningfully at them before sweeping them both into a hug and kissing their cheeks. “Seriously though, Nick,” she whispered. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, but I’m so glad you’re here. It will be awesome to spend Christmas with you—both of you.” She smiled at Jackson as she released them.
“Yeah, well. I reckoned it was about time.” Nick managed a grin. It was hard not to be cheered by Maria’s obvious joy at their presence.
“Come through to the living room, Mum and Dad are in there.” She turned to lead the way.
Nick shut the front door and followed with Jackson by his side. An army of butterflies was rampaging in his gut as he braced himself to face his father. He grabbed Jackson’s hand again.
When they entered the room, Nick scanned it like a grazing animal seeking out predators, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through him as he met his father’s cool grey gaze for a split second, before his father switched his attention to Jackson. Nick felt savage satisfaction as his father’s mask of impassivity slipped, eyes widening as he studied Jackson. His gaze dropped briefly to their joined hands before he stood to greet them.
“Nicky, darling! It’s so lovely to see you.” His mother swooped in, and he had to let go of Jackson’s hand to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Hello. It’s good to see you too,” he said politely. Maybe it would be good. It was too soon to tell.
He’d missed her when he’d first started distancing himself from his father, but the loss of their relationship had been collateral damage. Her loyalty to Nick’s father had made it impossible. They’d kept up communication, but had rarely spent any time together in person. All their meetings had been at weddings, funerals, or other large social gatherings, so there had been little opportunity for any genuine connection.
He disentangled himself gently. “Jackson, this is my mother. Mum, meet Jackson.”
“Jackson, welcome.” Her smile was unnaturally bright and her voice smooth with a veneer of careful politeness as she offered Jackson her hand. “We’ve heard about you. But it’s lovely to meet you at last.”
“You too, Mrs Carling.” Jackson shook her hand.
“Sue, please. No need to stand on ceremony.” She gave a nervous laugh.
“Sue.” His deep voice was warm and sure. Nick envied his confidence and wondered what was going on beneath the surface. He felt a flash of guilt as he realised he’d been so wrapped up in his own angst all day, he hadn’t even asked Jackson how he was feeling. All he’d done was snap at him when he’d tried to be supportive.
Nick turned to his father, who extended his hand and gave an awkward nod.
“Nick,” he said gruffly.
Nick shook his hand, deliberately using a firm grip. “Dad.” The word nearly stuck in his throat, but he’d never called him Father growing up, and to do so now would sound passive–aggressive and weird.