“What were you saying,” Finn asked, “about not being dramatic?”
“I swallowed wrong,” Cillian said unapologetically. “That’s all. And yes, I’m alright. Thanks for asking. No ambulance required.”
Finn’s smirk was at odds with him patting his boyfriend on the hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, darling.”
“As I was saying,” Amrita said.
Cillian closed his eyes. “Please don’t say it again.”
Laurent leaned forward, his expression saying that he was trying really hard not to say what was on his mind. It was a battle I knew had already been lost. Lo-and-behold, Laurent only lasted a couple of seconds. “I thought we were friends now, Cillian. That’s a very extreme reaction to have at the thought of having me as your brother-in-law.”
Cillian took a fortifying deep breath, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Friends and brother-in-law are two verydifferent things,” he said. He aimed an accusatory stare my way. “You haven’t even told Mum and Dad yet.”
“Actually,” I said. “I had a very long Zoom conversation with both of them yesterday. A conversation in which I came clean about everything, and then introduced them to Laurent.” Cillian’s gaze skipped to Laurent, only returning to me once he nodded. “Mum stopped asking questions the minute Laurent opened his mouth and she heard his accent. I think if I wasn’t with him, she’d already have packed her case and be halfway over on the Eurostar.”
“Fine,” Cillian said. “So you told them.” He looked to Finn, who’d carried on eating. “Say something. Tell them they can’t get married just so Mac can stay here.” Finn’s shrug said he wouldn’t be any help at all.
“I just said it was a possibility,” Amrita offered. “It would certainly be the easiest way. I’m not advocating that as the best option, but everything deserves consideration.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “But I’m not about to press gang Laurent into marriage for my benefit. It wouldn’t be fair.” Cillian’s sigh of relief was audible. And annoying.
“Who says you’d be press ganging me?”
My heart skipped a beat as I took in the slight smile on Laurent’s face. “I mean… if it was the only way to keep you here, I’d do it.”
“You would?” Everyone else in the room ceased to exist as I stared at Laurent.
“I would. Just name the time and place.”
A few plates of food weren’t going to stop me as I surged across the table in a quest to kiss him. Finn laughed. Amrita gave a little bark of surprise, and Cillian muttered something about one day being able to have dinner without his little brother partaking in a game of tonsil tennis.
Epilogue
Five months later
The longer I lived with Laurent—and we were coming up for close to three months now—the more he let me see behind the curtain to his genuine emotions. Right now, he was nervous. More nervous than I’d ever seen him before. His method of attempting to hide the tumult of emotions was to carry out an industrious program of housework that had me worried that if I stood still too long, I’d find myself carried out with the dust bunnies. I put up with it for ten more minutes before I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Right, you,” I said, relieving Laurent of the sweeping brush before he could protest. “Shorts. T-shirt. Trainers.”
He stared at me blankly, too confused to regain control of his current cleaning implement of choice. “Are we naming items of clothes? Scarf. Gloves. Hat.”
“Very wintry,” I drawled. “It’s always good to have a theme. Mine was sporty.” When it still didn’t click, I gave him a little shove toward the bedroom. “Get changed. We’re going for a run.”
“We? You don’t run.”
“I run,” I lied. I lasted for ten seconds beneath Laurent’s intense stare. “Okay… not usually. But today, I will. I can always imagine the police are after me. Or zombies.”
Laurent turned in a slow circle to survey the flat. “I still have cleaning to do.”
I gave him another shove toward the bedroom, this one slightly harder. “No, you don’t. You went past cleaning an hour ago and into what can only be called a frenzy. Get changed. Unless you’re scared you won’t be able to keep up with me.”
Laurent’s laugh was loud and long, and completely unwarranted, in my opinion. Yet, was also music to my ears. Laughter was good, if it stopped him from getting any more wound up about the afternoon’s summons to his father’s new flat.
Craig had something to tell him, and that’s all he’d say over the phone, insisting it was a conversation he needed to have face-to-face with his son. Laurent had filled in the gaps and decided his father needed to confess to a relapse, and no matter how many times I’d said he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, the ingrained habit of thinking the worst was too hard to break.
Fifteen minutes later, we’d changed and were pounding the streets of Paris. Five minutes after that, I was regretting my suggestion and wishing I’d just let him carry on cleaning. Iwas fit, but I was gym fit rather than road fit. Strength over endurance. Not that I’d be admitting that. “I should have taken you to bed,” I panted. “We could have had sex instead.”
“We have sex all the time,” Laurent said, his breathing far too regular for my self esteem.
