Unexpected Gift - 1. Chapter 1: Miami

One extra suitcase—more old-fashioned than his own—lay incongruously among Josh’s mismatched luggage. Well, people made mistakes. He read the stateroom designation tag attached to the owner’s label and had to squint to decipher the scrawl: Small wonder the porter had read 8 for 0. It belonged to a Mr. Christopher Mainwaring, according to the scribble on the tag. Not a big deal to take it to the man, he thought with a shrug, and definitely not worth bothering the already overworked portering staff about. He set his own suitcases on the queen-sized bed and left them for unpacking whenever. He wasn’t in any hurry; there was too much to do and see to waste time with clothes being in the drawers and tucked away neatly.

Josh opened his door and looked around the festive hallway: holly wreaths and tinsel hung around the ship. The staterooms were too far away for him to read all the numbers, but the owner of this luggage just happened to be across the hallway.

The ship’s massive engines shuddered as they started up, the horn blaring briefly before the intercom chimed and the captain began his announcements. It was nothing that hadn’t already been covered in the literature that had arrived with his tickets, so he had no qualms about returning the suitcase instead of listening. While the captain told the passengers about the ship’s medical facilities, he knocked on the door opposite his own and waited.

Call and check on dad, he reminded himself, and make sure mom knows where all of the Christmas presents are. He’d written it down, but the paper had probably fallen off the fridge and found itself a new home in the vacuum—or Duke’s stomach.

“Come in,” a resonant voice called out, firm and with what sounded like an English accent.

Josh opened the door to a tall man wearing a white shirt and khaki pants with his back to him, unpacking his things. “Uh, hello?”

The man turned, eyes wide for a moment before his eyebrows knitted together. Caramel-brown hair lay neatly swept back from firm, straight brows and clear, hazel-colored eyes. An attractive package overall—slim in build, with straight shoulders and lips that were neither too thin nor too plump, and an ass to die for. His throat and the dip between his collarbones stood out, exposed where his top button was unfastened. Josh wondered if this man had any idea how good he looked and bit back a reflexive urge to comment on it: that was not why he had come on this cruise. Nor was it that kind of cruise.

It felt like bubbles were popping in his stomach. Josh closed his eyes for a moment and hoped the guy didn’t notice his need to refocus on why he was there; the last thing he needed was to jump feet first into something disastrous. Or feet first into something he would make disastrous. God. He could be such an idiot sometimes when it came to a good-looking man. This one would be just like the last three—if he was even gay; it would be a whole different kind of disastrous if he wasn’t. But repeating mistakes was Josh’s favorite mistake, and he liked making them with men who wore ‘in control’ like the clothes on their back, kind of like this guy, with his matched luggage and crisp shirt. Josh let his gaze wander the length of the man again. This cruise was supposed to be a way to get away, find perspective, leave the ghosts of the past behind. Not start more trouble for himself. He took a deep breath as the other spoke.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry; I was expecting a steward.”

Definitely not a steward, Josh thought. And the man had already noticed his baggage was missing. Josh set the suitcase down and looked up to see its owner smiling. It was a nice smile, the sort that he’d make every effort to see as often as possible if this man were his partner. It was welcoming, leaving crinkles at the edges of his eyes. His lips quirked up just so, kind of endearingly lopsided, and his teeth were straighter than Josh would’ve expected from an Englishman. Josh found it more attractive: he wasn’t too perfect. Gah. No, he couldn’t think like that. He needed to get back to the reason he was there. This guy, unlike him, was putting his folded clothes in the dresser and sorting them neatly. Josh felt a little embarrassed for not caring that much about how his cabin looked.

“Looks like they mixed up our suitcases. This was in my cabin.”

The stranger smiled. “Thank you for bringing it; that’s why I was expecting a steward. I hope you didn’t have to drag it far.” His tone was appreciative.

“Just across the hall, so not a problem.” Josh smiled back.

“Even so, it’s very good of you. Let me buy you a drink before dinner to thank you.”

Josh opened his mouth, then reset his brain. “Thanks, that’d be nice. I believe I’m at the Captain’s table tonight.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said what table he was at. Just talking for the sake of it, he suspected—nerves, only the kind a good-looking man could tickle enough to make him sound like a complete idiot. The drink offer seemed... a little too thankful. Josh wondered if perhaps Christopher shared his proclivities—it was hard to tell; he knew that what some considered ‘homosexual behavior’ didn’t always mean the other person was gay. He’d seen enough BBC America to know the English had certain mannerisms, speech patterns and body language that read as gay, but were in fact just good manners.

Laughter filled the room. “So am I, as it happens.” The man held out his hand. “Christopher Mainwaring.”

Huh, it wasn’t pronounced the same way it was spelled. Christopher said ‘Mannering.’ Josh accepted Christopher’s hand and shook it firmly. “Joshua Matheson. Nice to meet you. Say about seven?”

“That sounds good to me. The piano lounge bar?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” He realized he’d just echoed Christopher. Josh bit his lip, hoping his parroting behavior wasn’t too stupid-sounding. Maybe he was just reading too much into the drink. Christopher could just be a friendly man; he seemed to be alone, like Josh, and maybe he felt like company. Just take it for what it is. “See you then.” He smiled.

Christopher nodded and walked him out of the cabin.

Josh returned to his room and unpacked his things. Christmas in the tropical Virgin Islands—already off to a good start. A better start than he’d built up in his mind. At least he wasn’t home, in a cold winter where people stockpiled bread and milk at the first sign of snow. He shook his head; he didn’t want to think about home. This trip was his Christmas present to himself, and he planned to enjoy it. If that included having drinks with Christopher and—. Josh shook his head and shoved the inappropriate ideas of other things he could enjoy with Christopher away. He needed to shower and clean up before they met up for drinks. And check on his dad.

Josh picked up his cell phone and dialed home. The line rang a few times before the answering machine picked up. “Hello, you’ve reached the Mathesons. We’re not available to answer your call, but please leave your name, telephone number and a brief message. We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” The line beeped and Josh started to tap the end button on his phone, but he stopped and said, “Hey, Mom, Dad. Just wanted to let you know I made it and everything’s going well. I’ll take lots of photos, if I can. And I’ll remember the shot glasses for Sabrina and Nate and the postcards for Jane. I didn’t forget. Anyway, just wanted to check on you both. I just realized you’re at bridge club and Dad’s probably reading. I love you; talk to you later.” He hung up and stripped down, making his way to the bathroom. It seemed to be the only room untouched by the Christmas spirit.

***

Josh wiped the mirror off and looked at himself. The scar on his right cheekbone was a faint against his lightly tanned skin; his brown hair and eyes were almost the same shade with his hair wet. He reached for the hairdryer and turned it on, combing his fingers through the short mess to tame it into something more presentable than the shower-post-sex look it had now. It parted naturally and didn’t look half bad when he was done.

His mind drifted through shaving. The rest of the family were probably talking–still, again–about his decision to go off on a cruise alone for Christmas rather than hole up in his parents’ house with them for the fortnight; he thought his sister Sabrina might understand his thinking, but he didn’t hold out much hope for anyone else. It wasn’t that he objected to his family: he loved them dearly, but he had wanted, just for once, to spend a holiday not being sighed over and encouraged to believe that the right girl was out there somewhere. Or guy, depending on the relative talking to him; most of them were fairly accepting of his orientation, but they all seemed to have trouble getting the idea that he wasn’t in any hurry to get into another relationship, or even that his goal was not to be in any hurry to jump into any relationships.

Josh set out, paying more attention to his surroundings than he had on the way to his stateroom when he first embarked. The boat was full of classy white walls with sleek silver accents. Nothing like his parents’ house would be about now. His nieces and nephews would be stringing up popcorn on the Christmas tree and trying to sneak a look at presents before Christmas Day. There’d be cookies and milk and a bright tree that his cat would be climbing before nightfall. His dog Duke would be drinking as much water from the tree stand as possible, generally making a mess of everything, and probably even opening a present or two early for the family.

Josh smiled and ran his hands down the front of his tuxedo. His tie had been straight when he left the room but he checked his appearance in one of the windows as he wandered by, just in case. Everything looked good. No, this isn’t a date, and I don’t have to look perfect for it. Josh laughed at himself and carried on. Christopher was just a man he was meeting for a drink for doing a good thing; a friendly thank-you, no different than his grandmother inviting the kids who brought her wandering dog home in for lemonade and cookies. He reminded himself of this several times, as though it would help take something away from the general attraction he felt, but it didn’t. At times like these, he thought he just might be hopeless when it came to romance or even relationships. His first instinct was not to treat this man as a friend but to treat him as a potential lover, confidant… something that wouldn’t mean ‘goodnight’ at the end of the evening and leave him standing outside of his own door alone. The variables were too many, though. England, thousands of miles away, might not be gay, the whole idea of Christopher not liking guys like Josh. He blamed all of the literature growing up and having free rein in the bookshop all these years, reading whatever he wanted to and falling in love with the idea of love as much as love itself. Or perhaps it was just him being impulsive to the core and never thinking about the consequences of what love really meant. It wasn’t that ridiculous Shades of Shit collection going around, and it wasn’t Twilight. Love was… well, he didn’t quite know, but he reckoned the day it landed in his lap, he’d be able to recognize it and do something worthwhile with it—or be someone worthwhile to whoever had the misfortune, good fortune, to fall in love with him. He sighed. He was thinking too much about inconsequential things. He might as well start a marketing plan for all the relaxing he was doing so far.

Along the hallways, there were signs with arrows pointing toward various attractions on the ship: bowling, dancing, drinks tastings, the lounge he and Christopher planned to meet in, and of course the dining room. It was like a miniature village of people who didn’t know each other from Adam and damned easy to get lost, if he wasn’t careful. He followed them, appreciating the lack of traffic and horns blaring. No police sirens or loud bass thumped in the background, and for miles, all he could see was water, with a receding coastline behind the ship’s wake. A fresh breeze of ocean air slid across his face, warm and clean. He threaded through people and children, taking inventory of things he wanted to do for the next three weeks. All of it looked like fun.

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