After Katie had taken herself back upstairs, Marcus and Tom washed the dishes together in companionable silence before Marcus made his excuse to leave. Tom walked Marcus to the front door and they stood together unspeaking for a moment. What Marcus found strange was that he felt something needed to be said, but realized he had never really had this close a relationship with Tom. Before his brain had fully engaged, the words slipped out.
“You want a hug, big man?”
Tom’s gaze dropped to the carpet, but his lopsided grin was almost comical. “Why? Do I look as though I need one?”
“No, it’s just—Shit, I don’t know why I said that.” Marcus reddened at his own comment, feeling awkward.
“Appreciate the offer. But I’m good, thanks.”
He met Tom’s eyes, and they both chuckled and then fell quiet again.
“Listen, Tom,” said Marcus quietly but with total conviction, “I promise you—I promise—that things are going to get better from now on.”
Once again Tom’s gaze dropped to the floor, but he gently nodded. Wanting to spare Tom any more embarrassment, Marcus opened the front door and stepped out into the night. A few strides down the path, before Tom had shut the door on him, he turned back.
“One last thing.”
Standing there, he waited until he had Tom’s full attention.
“Next time I come, I’m going to sit you down and, over a beer or two, explain to you exactly why the soccer team you support is such a large pile of dog poop. I mean, come on, really? They spend millions on new players and then come fourth in the league. Both coach and manager should be fired, and preferably from a cannon.”
“Sod off, Vine.”
But the wide grin on Tom’s face was priceless.
Yes, thought Marcus, we can do this. Side by side we can put things back together again, maybe not the same as before, but at least help to bring some much-needed love and support back to the family.
On the way to his car, he didn’t even realize he was whistling until a passerby—a woman walking her dog—smiled amiably at him.
Chapter Four
MONDAYmorning Marcus parked along the road from Tom’s house and checked the state of his hair, then his eyes, in the rearview mirror. Considering the exhausting weekend that had just been, he looked remarkably awake and alert.
End of April, and both Thursday and Friday lunch and dinner service had been off-the-scale busy. Then late Saturday night in Edgware Road, they had entertained a table of A-list celebrities—well, three, to be precise, all well-known personalities performing together in a West End show—and a group of other cast members. Marcus always welcomed celebs, purposely came out of his kitchen to meet them, and usually comped them a round of drinks. Other patrons enjoyed the display, and word usually got out either through the press or by word of mouth. And, of course, Tina loved free publicity.
On the downside, the revelers didn’t leave until five thirty. Eventually, he got home from the restaurant just after midday, deciding to stay behind and finish the inventory, rather than coming back on Sunday afternoon. Now here he sat in his car, trying to come down to earth, readying himself for his domestic duties with the Bradford clan. Having woken at six that morning, he’d just about managed to get everything done and reach Tom’s house by seven.
Talk about burning the candle at both ends.
“See you’re in the paper again, Marcus,” called Tom as soon as Marcus unlocked the front door using the set of keys Tom had cut for him. In the process of leaning over and packing documents into a briefcase, Tom gave Marcus a good view of his perfect jeans-clad backside, and despite his low energy, Marcus felt his cock stir. Absently, Tom waved a hand to the table where the girls were eating cereal.
“You’re looking dapper this morning,” said Marcus. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he bit his tongue, remembering that Tom didn’t like other men complimenting him. On anything. But this time the observation appeared to go right over his head. Usually when Tom worked on-site he donned worn overalls and a sweatshirt. Today he was togged out in clean jeans, a charcoal gray woolen jacket, a crisp white shirt, and a navy tie.
“Yeah, I know,” muttered Tom, frowning at his attire. “Got a bloody boardroom meeting. Monday morning, of all things. The newspaper with the article’s over on the table.”
As far as Marcus was concerned, Tom needed to have more bloody boardroom meetings. Not that he didn’t admire Tom in his trademark work clothes, but the casual corporate style definitely looked hot on the man.
“Daddy read it out to us,” gurgled Charlotte, rewarding Marcus with the sight of a mouthful of milk and Cocoa Puffs.
“Charlie, what did Daddy say about eating and talking at the same time?”
“And close your mouth when you eat,” added Katie. “Nobody needs to know what’s in there. Nana said watching you eat is like looking at a washing machine running with a full load.”
Marcus couldn’t help but laugh aloud, while Tom smiled into his briefcase and gently shook his head. Fortunately Tom didn’t notice the Cocoa Puff–covered tongue that poked out from Charlotte’s mouth, aimed at her sister.
“I’ve left the page open at the article,” said Tom before disappearing upstairs.
Marcus loved the early-morning routine with Tom and the girls, so different from the usual solitude of his own apartment. Six weeks since they’d had the chat, and everything already felt so much better.
