I woke up and saw it was late morning, according to the antique wall clock. I could’ve sworn I was partly awake in the middle of the night because I remembered feeling an arm around me, which could’ve been Nicholas’ arm, but it could’ve just been in my head, too. Or maybe a dream?
“Merry Christmas, Jacques.”
I was startled by the voice in the dimness and sat upright, always forgetting that he could do that so easily. I noticed him across the room where the wall-less kitchen/bathroom was. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
“Did you sleep well?”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir, I did. Thank you for holding me.” It had to have been him, and it had to have happened. I wasn’t crazy. I remembered it.
Nicholas didn’t say anything for a while. He sauntered closer and stopped in front of me, and he stood ther
