Chapter 2

Biting down on his bottom lip, absently twirling the ring on his finger, Ian tried to squash the pain he felt. Stephan swore up and down that he wasn’t ashamed of Ian or their relationship. Deep down Ian believed him, but it was hard to shake the icky feeling that came with being a secret. Some days, especially after a fight or like now around the holidays, it was almost like he wasn’t good enough; which was simply ridiculous.

Ian turned his gazed to the window and the dancing snowflakes.

One of his friends suggested he try an ultimatum. Either Stephan came clean to his dad or he walked. Thinking about it twisted his stomach in knots. He swallowed the last of his wine. Acting on such a crazy idea meant breaking his heart and walking away from the best thing he’d ever found.

Impossible.

A plaintive meow shook him from his heavy thoughts. Ian looked at the floor to find one of their two cats sitting there; Mushu twitched his tail, his coat sleek and black. Ian patted his lap and the cat leaped up, purring, rubbing against Ian’s offered hand.

“Oh, Mushu,” he lamented. “What’s a guy to do?”

* * * *

Dinner that evening was eaten quietly and shortly afterwards Stephan excused himself by saying he needed to finish a few things for work. Ian once again retired to the comfort of the library. Shelves of books were bathed in the faint golden glow of a lamp. From their ranks, he picked a well-worn, well-loved favorite and settled in an extra plush easy chair.

Eventually he drifted off, the book slipping from his grasp to fall to the floor. Mushu had returned, a purring ball of fur in his lap. And outside the snow continued to fall.

* * * *

At some point, he was vaguely aware of someone coming into the room and muttering his name. this same person saw to it that he was covered with a blanket and left the mark of a kiss on his forehead before ducking out, flipping off the lamp. It seemed as it nothing more than a dream. 2

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!” Stephan’s voice drew him from the depths of slumber. “It’s time to get up.”

Ian may have grumbled with protest, trying to snuggle into his pillow only to become acutely aware that he wasn’t in bed. That was enough to bring him fully awake, a yawn cracking his jaw as he stretched. Early morning light spilled through the window, or at least so he thought. It was coming from the lamp.

“What time is it?” He half expected to be told it was midnight or something, with Stephan rousting him to come to bed. Then he noticed his lover’s outfit was not only different from the day before, but he also wasn’t sporting pajamas.

Stephan checked his watch. “A wee bit after eight in the morning.”

“After eight?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, thinking about a nice cup of coffee with a donut or maybe a Danish, if there were any left. Then all the unwanted forgotten pieces fell into place. “Crap!”

It was Thanksgiving.

Ian jumped out of the chair, accidentally disturbing Mushu, who let out a startled yowl, before scampering out of the room.

“How could you let me oversleep? I should have been at the airport by now.” His heart raced as he made a beeline for the door. He didn’t get very far before Stephan snagged him by the wrist and stopped him in his tracks. “Hey,” popped out of Ian’s mouth.

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you,” Stephan started, then seemed to have another idea. Gently he thrust Ian toward the window. “Just have a look for yourself.”

Frowning at his fiancé, Ian crossed the room to have a peek. And instantly his heart sank. The landscape had been bathed in a fresh layer of white. Where the yard ended and the road began he couldn’t tell, it was seamless, untouched, and from his vantage point, at least a foot deep. It would take forever to shovel out the driveway to get the car out and unless a plow went by, the street would remain impassable.

Much like the day before Stephan came to stand at his side, taking hold of Ian’s hand. “I’m sorry, love. The storm dropped a lot more than they expected. Many roads are buried and the airport has cancelled all flights until the runways can be cleared.”

“I…I can’t go home?”

Stephan shook his head.

“But…What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to have Thanksgiving by myself. We don’t even have a turkey.” He felt the familiar pinprick of unshed tears welling in his eyes.