#Chapter114
The aftershave he'd detected on Sly was Clive Christian's brand. He knew that because it smelt simply divine and it was Jackson's favourite. Ronan had raided his collection too many times to mistake the musk. And for some reason, it blended well against his nose, complimenting the sweetened aroma that warmed the air from the baking gingerbread men.
But joking aside, they eventually addressed the elephant in the room, and they all ended up putting their asses to a couch cushion and breaking out the subject Ronan had tried to avoid like the plague: Adam.
They'd tiptoed around the subject with polite 'how are you's' and 'How have you been holding up's', every one that followed inching closer and closer to asking about what had happened.
