He’s still leaving…
“Well,” I said, as steadily as I could, “I’m glad you get to go home after all. And you went to see me. That’s good… that’s excellent to know.” I was struggling with the rollercoaster of emotions in my chest. “I just wanted to catch you… I wanted to see you, too. To apologise for being such a brat.”
Blake raised his eyebrows, but he was grinning. “I like you when you’re a brat. Or some of your sassy behaviour, at least. So, are you coming with me after all?”
“Coming…? What do you mean? This isn’t—I don’t have a ticket—”
“I do,” Blake said bluntly. “I’d already bought tickets for us both. Just never got the time to ask you, under sensible circumstances. And then you said you wouldn’t have come anyway—”
“I talked a lot of crap,” I interrupted, just as bluntly.
“Come with me,” he repeated, eyes brightening. “Come to my home, stay with me, meet my family. Let me learn to love you properly.” The announcements rang out in the background, groups of people shouted and called to each other around us, a siren wailed across the nearest entrance. But I had no trouble hearing him.
Love?
“Not just for Christmas, either, goddammit.” Blake huffed in irritation as someone ran a wheeled suitcase into the back of his legs. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go, you understand?”
“I don’t have a gift for you,” I said, stupidly.
“You’re my gift,” he said with a grin and a wince. “Corny enough for you?”
“Let’s get coffee,” I said, taking his arm. My smile was so wide, I probably looked manic. “I’ll call Arne and ask him to pack me a bag, bring it to the station.” Something made me think Arne would already be doing that. “And, yes, while we’re waiting for the train? We’ll definitely talk!”
EPILOGUE
Blake
New Year’s Day
I woke early, but the house was already warming up as I dressed and went to make coffee. I didn’t want to leave him in bed, but we’d been up late at the family party and everyone would be sleeping in today. It amused me how I was the older man, but didn’t seem to need as much sleep as my younger lover.
He’d enchanted my family, of course. Mother and my sisters were fascinated by his looks and his banter, and spent far too much time teasing us as a couple. My father isn’t easily swayed by younger men, but Dante didn’t try to charm him, just listened and spoke up for himself when he felt the need. I hadn’t told anyone how or where I met him. I wasn’t ashamed of it, nor was he, but, for the moment, the only details of our relationship I wanted to share with my family related to our future. And we didn’t stay too long at my parents’ house: I didn’t want to overwhelm him.
But when I found him on the floor under the Christmas tree in the playroom, laughing and gasping, playing some boisterous game that entailed my youngest nephews and nieces crawling onto his back, jumping on and off the old sofa my mother had put there, running around the room like banshees, and gleefully shrieking various nonsense catchphrases they’d cooked up between them….
Well, I’d known I loved him since day one. That was just additional verification.
It was the best thing I ever did, putting Dante first. Not that I’d ever considered anything else. If he’d still refused me that day at Kings Cross, and if I hadn’t realised the 24-hour clock mistake, I would have found some way to get back to Edinburgh even if I had to drive overnight. Without him. But instead, we had the joy of a long, leisurely journey, with decent coffee and sandwiches, and the constant flirting and teasing that took us straight to the bedroom when the taxi finally dropped us at my house in Edinburgh’s New Town.
He made some protest about finding a B&B, until I explained I had four spare bedrooms in my house, and plenty of room to entertain an invited guest. And then, of course, we fucked, ate, then fucked again—and, after that, he never slept anywhere but my bed.
He went exploring alone, the day after we arrived. I didn’t feel offended, because he needed time on his own to settle in such a different place. But even with Christmas closures, I think our lovely city and all the independent shops, restaurants and markets helped him feel it more akin to London. After New Year, we would get him released from his rental, and he could liaise with Arne and Rick about getting his belongings sent up here. Dante had always been my long-term hope and plan.
We were still discussing his job prospects, though. I heard a loud yawn at the kitchen doorway and Dante stumbled through.
“Happy New Year,” I said, handing him a coffee and stealing a kiss.
“Stop your blether,” he replied with a scowl and a pretty poor imitation of my accent. “At least until the fucking roadworks have stopped inside my head. What made me think I could drink whisky at the same rate as your brothers in law?”
But he smiled again after a breakfast of tattie scones and bacon, and I took my chances.
“Have you thought more about the job?”
He grumbled, his cheeks flushed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But I still don’t have the qualifications you’d ask from anyone else.”
I shrugged. “You will have. You can re-start your training contract with Mackenzie’s practice in Leith—he’s an old friend, and I already checked he has a vacancy—and when you’re qualified, you can come and work for us.”
“In forensic accounting.”
I watched him carefully, unwilling to push him into something he’d hate. “Yes. Is that something you couldn’t face?”
“How do I know I’d be any good?”
His self-esteem was so low, at least as far as work was concerned. But I could see his potential, shining like a lodestar. “Well, I do. Rick’s shown me your work on the Haven’s accounts, and I can see you look beyond and beneath the actual figures. You’re shrewd and you’re smart, and you understand human nature. God knows, you’ve seen plenty of it. What’s more—and don’t take this the wrong way—you can imagine the worst, and that makes you the right person to spot that behaviour in others. And, finally,” I smiled, “you wouldn’t be scared to follow through.”
His gaze met mine, still searching.
“But if you wanted to do anything else? That would be fine, too. And that’s the truth.”
He rose then, and came around the table, slinging his leg over to straddle my lap. He wore only pyjama pants and I could feel his arse muscles flex as he settled on my thighs. He nuzzled my neck, a familiar diversionary tactic.
“Blake, the job has always sounded great.”
“So, what’s holding you back?”
“What will your partners say?” he muttered against my throat.
“Nothing, because they trust me and my decisions. You think you’ll get the job by virtue of being my lover?” I snorted a laugh. “No chance. You’ll be worked bloody hard, and you’ll have to succeed on your own merits. Your employment will not be dependent on fucking the boss.”
“Maybe I want it to be.” His laugh was gentler, disarming. He wriggled, and his hardening cock brushed my belly. “You like to be in control, don’t you?”