The Dickens with Love by Josh Lanyon Page A
Authors: Josh Lanyon
Tags: Romance MM, erotic MM
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unwise it would be to cross me.”
That did give me pause. I said, “I’ll call you with Crisparkle’s answer.”
The day flew by.
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59
Josh Lanyon
Employees talked about the possibility of a white Christmas and whether we could legitimately have a
snow day in Los Angeles. “It’s not even raining,” I pointed out irritably to the third person who gleefully asked if I thought it would snow. “Has anyone noticed the sun is shining?”
Customers asked for books on England, on the Victorians, and on Christmas baking. Three people
bought the newest illustrated edition of A Christmas Carol . If I believed in signs and omens, I’d have thought someone was trying to tell me something.
In the afternoon, the floor manager asked if I could stay late. Since Sedgwick would be at his dinner, I decided I might as well work a few extra hours.
I ate my raspberry jam sandwich in the break room using Louis Bayard’s Mr. Timothy as a barrier from employees who wanted to talk about what they hoped they were getting for Christmas and how they
were going to spend their snow day.
But against my best effort the conversation around me infiltrated my force field and I found, to my
dismay, that I was wondering if Sedgwick would want to spend Christmas together. Then I remembered
Darcy. But that was all right. Maybe Sedgwick would be open to spending a few hours at her place. If not, I could spend the afternoon with Darcy and meet Sedgwick later in the evening.
I wanted to spend Christmas with him. More than I had wanted anything in a long time.
I glanced at the break room clock. He would be at his dinner by now.
I finished my break and returned once more to the fray.
I was too busy to worry about not hearing from Sedgwick. When he didn’t call at eight or nine, I
assumed his dinner ran late. I was finally freed from bondage at nine thirty and I tried calling from the parking lot. No point driving back to Glendale if I was then going to have to turn around and head out to Stone Canyon.
The hotel room phone rang and rang.
I waited fifteen minutes and tried again. By now it was ten o’clock. Surely he would have tried to get free and back to his hotel knowing we were supposed to meet?
It was cold in the car and I was getting chilled and stiff waiting. I headed home, telling myself the
chances of anything happening to him were nil.
I got back to my apartment. In Darcy’s apartment, America was weirdly mute. I tried calling the Hotel
Del Monte at ten thirty, ten forty-five, ten fifty, and eleven.
Nothing.
I tried again at eleven thirty and then at twelve. By then I was worried. Scared to death. What the hell could have happened to him? Anything. It was Los Angeles. Anything could happen to him. A gang
shooting. A car accident. I remembered my parents’ deaths on such a night. Remembered waiting for them to come home from their date night. Remembered the mounting irritation and impatience of the college
student babysitter as it grew later and later—until the police showed up at our front door.
60
www.samhainpublishing.com
The Dickens with Love
When I tried his hotel room again at fifteen minutes after twelve o’clock my throat was so tight, I
wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak even if he was there.
He wasn’t. I let the phone ring ten times. I was dangerously close to crying as I let it ring a hopeless eleventh time.
The phone rattled off the hook.
“Yes?” Cold and crisp. I almost didn’t recognize the voice as Sedgwick’s.
In fact, I was so shocked, I could hardly manage a thick, “Sedge?”
“Yes?”
We seemed to have come full circle. He sounded as frosty and distant as he had the first time we’d
spoken on the phone.
“It’s me. I thought…did you try to call me?”
“No.”
I absorbed that with a sick churning in my belly. Something was very wrong. I swallowed hard, made
myself say in as calm a voice as I could manage, “I thought we were getting
That did give me pause. I said, “I’ll call you with Crisparkle’s answer.”
The day flew by.
www.samhainpublishing.com
59
Josh Lanyon
Employees talked about the possibility of a white Christmas and whether we could legitimately have a
snow day in Los Angeles. “It’s not even raining,” I pointed out irritably to the third person who gleefully asked if I thought it would snow. “Has anyone noticed the sun is shining?”
Customers asked for books on England, on the Victorians, and on Christmas baking. Three people
bought the newest illustrated edition of A Christmas Carol . If I believed in signs and omens, I’d have thought someone was trying to tell me something.
In the afternoon, the floor manager asked if I could stay late. Since Sedgwick would be at his dinner, I decided I might as well work a few extra hours.
I ate my raspberry jam sandwich in the break room using Louis Bayard’s Mr. Timothy as a barrier from employees who wanted to talk about what they hoped they were getting for Christmas and how they
were going to spend their snow day.
But against my best effort the conversation around me infiltrated my force field and I found, to my
dismay, that I was wondering if Sedgwick would want to spend Christmas together. Then I remembered
Darcy. But that was all right. Maybe Sedgwick would be open to spending a few hours at her place. If not, I could spend the afternoon with Darcy and meet Sedgwick later in the evening.
I wanted to spend Christmas with him. More than I had wanted anything in a long time.
I glanced at the break room clock. He would be at his dinner by now.
I finished my break and returned once more to the fray.
I was too busy to worry about not hearing from Sedgwick. When he didn’t call at eight or nine, I
assumed his dinner ran late. I was finally freed from bondage at nine thirty and I tried calling from the parking lot. No point driving back to Glendale if I was then going to have to turn around and head out to Stone Canyon.
The hotel room phone rang and rang.
I waited fifteen minutes and tried again. By now it was ten o’clock. Surely he would have tried to get free and back to his hotel knowing we were supposed to meet?
It was cold in the car and I was getting chilled and stiff waiting. I headed home, telling myself the
chances of anything happening to him were nil.
I got back to my apartment. In Darcy’s apartment, America was weirdly mute. I tried calling the Hotel
Del Monte at ten thirty, ten forty-five, ten fifty, and eleven.
Nothing.
I tried again at eleven thirty and then at twelve. By then I was worried. Scared to death. What the hell could have happened to him? Anything. It was Los Angeles. Anything could happen to him. A gang
shooting. A car accident. I remembered my parents’ deaths on such a night. Remembered waiting for them to come home from their date night. Remembered the mounting irritation and impatience of the college
student babysitter as it grew later and later—until the police showed up at our front door.
60
www.samhainpublishing.com
The Dickens with Love
When I tried his hotel room again at fifteen minutes after twelve o’clock my throat was so tight, I
wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak even if he was there.
He wasn’t. I let the phone ring ten times. I was dangerously close to crying as I let it ring a hopeless eleventh time.
The phone rattled off the hook.
“Yes?” Cold and crisp. I almost didn’t recognize the voice as Sedgwick’s.
In fact, I was so shocked, I could hardly manage a thick, “Sedge?”
“Yes?”
We seemed to have come full circle. He sounded as frosty and distant as he had the first time we’d
spoken on the phone.
“It’s me. I thought…did you try to call me?”
“No.”
I absorbed that with a sick churning in my belly. Something was very wrong. I swallowed hard, made
myself say in as calm a voice as I could manage, “I thought we were getting
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