Mum giggled and kissed him quickly and then kissed him again. It deepened until I groaned.
“Seriously, you two. That’s gross.”
They eventually separated, and Tim pulled me into a hug. “He really was hot as fuck, though.”
Groaning again, I turned to get drinks from the fridge.
When Tim and Mum first got together, it took me quite a while to open up to him. Not because I didn’t like him or want to spend time with him—he was always great. I was scared of him getting to know me. Of letting him too close. It was pretty much love at first sight for Mum, and having a teenage son wasn’t usually a great bonus feature. Especially one like me. I didn’t want to risk him leaving Mum behind because of me. I tried to be the perfect stepson, but at arm’s length.
Tim, however, never gave up. The stubborn bastard wore me down. Even when I was trying to maintain distance to give them privacy, I could see why she loved him. He was warm and funny and easygoing. I spent the first year waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to discover the skeletons in his closet. Even once I accepted he might not have any, I was still scared he would discover mine. Strangely, we became a lot closer once I moved out to go to uni. I didn’t need to guard against him seeing too much of me so I was able to relax a little. The fact that Tim was bi as well as one of my best friends had made him a fantastic wingman. After many boys’ nights out and those conversations you can’t have with your mum, I wouldn’t swap our relationship for anything.
I tried deflecting by asking about work and the gardening Mum was doing but could only hold off so long before the inquisition resumed.
Chapter Eight
Nicholas and I texted back and forth over the next fortnight but couldn’t find time we were both free. Then, on Thursday afternoon while I was sitting on the bike cooling down at the gym, my phone beeped.
How about Friday. Drinks? Subway?
Hopefully I finish around 6 on Friday, but to be honest, I only went to the club to catch up with Antony. Could we try something else?
Sure. What do you have in mind?
I could cook you dinner?
Perfect. What time? What should I bring?
How about 7? Could you bring wine? Maybe a red? It’s up to you.
See you then.
I texted him my address and headed to the showers.
I was certainly no gourmet chef, but I was never going to starve. I could do a couple of dishes really well. Lasagne was the simplest. Once it was in the oven, I could leave it if I had guests. I made a very basic salad to go with it and was washing up the last of the prep dishes when the door buzzed. I hurriedly wiped my hands and let him in.
Opening the door before he knocked, I felt that familiar feeling rush over me again as he leaned forward to give me a kiss on the cheek. It was a weird feeling, warmth and safety and comfort, but with a tingling in my stomach like a packet of popping candy.
He glanced around the apartment as I walked us back to the kitchen. “Did you just move in, or are you so OCD it always looks like this?”
He must have seen a reaction in me I wasn’t conscious of because he reached out and held my elbow softly. When he continued, his voice was gentle. “That wasn’t meant as a criticism. I just meant it’s neater than most guys our age. Sorry, I know I can be a bit abrupt sometimes. I don’t always realise something I say sounds bad until I realise I’ve offended someone.”
I glanced around the room. I suppose it was reasonably tidy. It had become habit now. I had always tried to keep the house clean for Mum, and then when we moved in with Tim, I hadn’t wanted to be a burden. I thought if I made sure everything was tidy and I wasn’t any work, he wouldn’t mind that Mum had a kid.
“How old are you anyway?” Nicholas asked, obviously hoping to move on from the awkwardness.
“I’m thirty-two. How about you?” I was happy to move on to a new topic.
He smiled now that I had relaxed again—not quite my smile, but definitely warm. “I’m twenty-six.”
We opened the Merlot, and I was surprised how easily we slipped into talking about anything and everything. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel like I needed to filter or organise my thoughts before I spoke. It felt safe. I smiled at him as he explained the staff welfare program he and Eric were implementing. They tried to be aware of what was going on with their staff, but their employees were spread out over two huge hotels in different cities. With the expansions they were looking at, they spent most of their time with the business side of things and had to rely on their managers to look after the people, so they obviously couldn’t know them all. The staff welfare system was in addition to very generous sick and personal days staff. It encompassed a wide range of things from gift baskets when staff took time off for bereavement leave to access to a free and confidential mental health service via a psychologist phone service. Nicholas seemed really determined that their staff were their most valuable asset, and if they focused on them, then their staff would focus on their guests, and their guests would obviously look after their bottom line. Despite never having had a real interest in business, the passion with which he spoke and the excitement when he discussed the future was addictive, and I found myself drawn in to his stories.
He explained when Eric’s father decided to retire, Eric had taken a loan from his family to buy out his siblings’ share of ownership of his father’s Sydney hotel, and he had named the parent company Allegra Australasia. Laughing, he added how Eric’s father’s version of retirement was working forty or fifty hours a week instead of eighty and working contracts with business that were in trouble, not to mention all the charity work. And Eric had leapt into the deep end buying a Melbourne hotel almost immediately.
I was surprised to hear how he and Eric had done almost all their planning sitting in dirt-cheap hostels, backpacking through Italy when they finished university. He smiled fondly when he talked about Eric and his family. Not my smile, but still a smile. Apparently, Eric would look at something and simply decide whether he was in or not. And if he was in, he jumped with two feet.
I shared a few more stories about work, and he asked more about Mum and Tim. I told him Mum was a cleaner and shared a few stories of her taking me to work with her before I started school because she couldn’t afford childcare.
I told him about the time I was playing with a slingshot in the backyard of the house Mum was working in, trying to get a ping-pong ball in the laundry basket. I’d been horrified when Mum came to check on me and discovered my slingshot was the homeowner’s G-string that had fallen out of the laundry basket. He laughed as I retold my animated version of showing Mum it couldn’t be underwear because it was big enough to fit her, me, and several friends. By the end of the story, he had tears in his eyes, and when he wiped them, I was rewarded with my smile. Full and bright and warm.
I felt so good I never wanted this night to end or this bubble to burst. I wasn’t sure whether asking about his family was okay, or if that would bring down the mood of the evening, but I ached to know everything about him, so I figured I should dip my toes in the water.
“So how did you and Eric meet?”
Nick chuckled. “I called him a daft bloody convict. Best friends ever since.”