Chapter Twenty-Three

When the flight attendant offered Joe a top-up of his champagne, he nodded. “Yes, please.”

And he wasn’t even drinking on the job. Because, at the moment, he didn’t technically have one.

“Alejo, are you having a top-up as well?”

“Not so much a top-up as another glass full!” He held out his empty glass, smiling as the attendant filled it. “How’re you feeling, Osito? All mended?”

“Oh yes, with my Alejo to fix me.” Joe put his arm around Alejandro. His rib twinged, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Not after painkillers and rest. Alejandro snuggled down against Joe’s shoulder and stretched out his legs, merrily wiggling his bare toes.

“I’ll always take care of my man,” Alejandro whispered, kissing his cheek. “But it’ll be much more fun taking care of you on a tropical island than in miserable, grey London. Those palm trees await, Osito.” He fluttered his lashes, adopting that gentle lisp. “And so does your Paloma.”