One starry, starry night, romance blossoms during Christmas lockdown.
One glacial Friday night in late October, Spencer K. Wyrrell—Squirrel—sits hidden behind an evergreen bush, freezing his arse off on a stone bench in the deserted twentieth-floor rooftop garden of his boss’s London flat. Taking a break from volunteering to show social-distanced guests around her penthouse gallery of abstract art, he is waiting with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne for the arrival of his habitually unpunctual colleague and best friend, Bev. But when the balcony door eventually slides open, the person who steps out is not his friend at all but the smoking-hot celebrity and chat-show host, Marshall J. Highlander. Unsure what to do, Spencer stays put and overhears Highlander’s private call. A newspaper is threatening to publish nude photographs of him and an ex-boyfriend from a holiday in France.
After more calls are made, an eerie silence descends on the rooftop. When a curious Spencer peers through the evergreen plant, he notices Highlander has climbed up onto the small wall surrounding the garden, looking out to the River Thames. In a moment of panic, Spencer decides to show himself, because, celebrity or not, everyone is only human and, as his mother has always drummed into him, most problems can be softened with well-chosen words, a little understanding, and a hug tight enough to make your eyes water.
And on that starry, starry night, an unexpected romance blossoms between two unlikely souls during a time of Christmas lockdown.
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