Ellis stepped through the door of his London Apartment and called out, “Love, are you here?”

Oliver slipped out of the kitchen. 

Ellis put his hands on either side of Oliver’s face and kissed him. “Would you help me with my jacket?” he asked.

“Of course,” Oliver helped him shrug off the tight jacket that he only wore when going out to meet members of the ton. 

“What are you working on today?” Ellis asked, nodding in the direction of the kitchen.

“A pie,” Oliver said with his eyes twinkling. He was shorter than Ellis by only a few inches, and he had dark black hair that contrasted with his very white English skin. Despite making and eating dessert every day, he was so skinny that Ellis could see the jut of his ribcage when they made love.

Ellis followed Oliver into the kitchen. He sat on the table with his feet on the seat of a chair while Oliver set back to work on crimping the edges of his pie.

“If it doesn't have a top of crust, is it more of a tart?” Ellis asked. 

“I’m putting that on top,” Oliver said, gesturing to his right. 

Ellis leaned, peaking around Oliver to see a circular piece of pie dough paid out on the table. The edge was patterned with scoops and in the center, E and O were cut out.

“Did I forget an anniversary?” Ellis asked with a smile.

“No.” Oliver straightened. “I just wanted to practice cutting out letters.”

“Ah,” Ellis leaned back on his hands and watched Oliver work.

He had long fingers that pinched the dough deftly. He made it around the circumference quickly.

Then he carefully lifted the top of the pie and set it down on top of the plums.

He stood back and studied the pie intensely.

Ellis’s gaze swept over Oliver’s jawline and down his neck. 

“Good,” Oliver said finally and placed the pie over by the oven. “I’m going to cook it later, so it will still be warm for us when we eat it after dinner.” He cleaned his hands off with a kitchen towel.

“Come here,” Ellis said. He reached out and snagged Oliver’s shirt. He hauled him over to stand between his knees.

Oliver gave him a soft indulgent smile. 

“Come to Christmas at Longren with me,” Ellis murmured and kissed his jawline.

“Ellis,” he sighed.

“Grant won’t mind. And he’ll be distracted by his pregnant wife and her family anyway. Come with me.”

“You know it’s not smart,” Oliver said.

Ellis pressed his forehead to Oliver’s shoulder and took a deep breath. His hands flexed on his hips.

“I want to wake up with you on Christmas morning,” Ellis murmured. “Just once in my life.”

“Ellis,” Oliver lifted his face and kissed him.

The soft sounds of their breaths and their kissing filled the kitchen. 

“It’s not unusual to have a friend come for Christmas,” Ellis said. “You know that. We’ll be called on to accompany the White girls for dancing or any activities, but they’re so young no expectations will be formed.” 

Oliver studied his face, looking at him. “You know it’s seven months away and you have time to convince me?”

“I’ll sneak into your room for Christmas Eve,” Ellis pressed.

“Has Grant’s marriage caused this?” Oliver asked.

Ellis shook his head. “He’s so happy. He’s as happy with Olivia as I am with you. I just want to be able to enjoy this happiness more. I don’t want to be separated from you all winter again. It’s untenable.”

Oliver hugged him tight. 

“Ellis, it’s spring.”

“Yes, and it’s been one week since I’ve had you again, I’m dreading the separation.”

Oliver gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll come with you for Christmas, love.”

Ellis squeezed him so tight it felt like he was trying to push Oliver into his skin.

Oliver thumped on his back and leaned back, wheezing. “I’m not going anywhere, Ellis.”

“I know, I know.” Ellis pressed his forehead into Oliver’s shoulder. “I just wish I could marry you.”

Oliver froze. His hand crept up to Ellis’s shoulders and pushed him back so they could look eye to eye.

Ellis stared at Oliver staring at him.

“I wish for that too,” Oliver said eventually.