Patchwork Paradise(37)

I hadn’t expected that many visitors, but it was okay. I made do. They mostly consumed lots of coffee, and I spent my time praying no one would come up with the brilliant idea of taking a look at Sam’s art room. I hadn’t touched that picture since Thomas and I haphazardly covered it up again.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

I jolted and looked up at Thomas. Automatically my eyes searched out Stephen, and I spotted him stuck between Imran and Cleo on the couch. They both looked a bit lovestruck, to be honest.

“You might lose your cowboy,” I said, nodding in their direction. Thomas smiled so softly at Stephen’s back, it made me ache. That faraway look had been mine for so long, only I hadn’t known what it meant. “Are you happy, Thomas?”

The smile widened a little. “Yeah. I think I am.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and sounded almost completely normal when I said, “Good. I’m glad.”

His dark gaze zeroed in on me, but I didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you?” he whispered.

It felt like a whole lot depended on my reply, but the day had drained me and I had nothing left to give. And really, it wouldn’t have been fair to answer it any other way than, “Yes, of course I am. I want you to be happy.” Like a coward, I added, “More coffee?” He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then shook his head once. “Well, I’m going to—” I lifted my mug and tried a smile on for size. It didn’t exactly fit right, but it would have to do.

As I walked into the kitchen, it felt like something was tugging me back. Then it gave with a sharp snap. I turned around and saw Thomas leaning over Stephen, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cleo’s eyes caught mine, and I looked away.

At nine I had the house to myself again, a strange quiet settling over the old building. It was too big for me, but the idea of giving it up made my heart hurt. Where would I go? What could I possibly find that would be better than this? Maybe I should get a roommate, a student, like I’d once upon a time suggested to Samuel, but the thought didn’t appeal to me anymore.

Maybe I should do some traveling too. I had a nice little sum saved up. I could do with seeing some of the world. Maybe I’d travel to Texas and come home with my very own stud. They did seem to grow on trees over there.

I fell asleep on the couch, very much like I’d done with Thomas that fateful evening. Only now there was no one to kiss me good-night.

I dreamed of kisses though. Lots and lots of kisses, dealt out by two mouths. It was Sam and Thomas, and we were all naked, and my mind was about to blow when Stephen joined too. I jolted awake, a second away from shooting my load in my pants. I hadn’t had a damn wet dream since I was sixteen years old! Half stumbling, I cursed my way up to the bathroom and took a shower to deal with my erection before falling stark-naked into bed. I needed to get laid.

Maybe I should call Peter.





I didn’t call Peter, but things almost did return to normal. We found a new bar to hang out in on Saturday nights, and we met up every week. I didn’t dance on tables anymore like Cleo still did, but I did learn a new appreciation for how Thomas must’ve felt being surrounded by two deliriously happy couples all those years. His urge to sleep around suddenly made a lot of sense.

And yet, I didn’t. I got propositioned a few times, but I always demurred. It didn’t escape my notice that Thomas tensed whenever I did give in to some harmless flirting, but I wasn’t bigheaded enough to think he was jealous. He cared, that was all.

At least this business with Stephen always being there did answer one question: I loved Thomas. There was nothing I could do about it, so I didn’t, but there it was.

I went through life with a semblance of, if not happiness, at least contentment. It was more than what I thought I’d ever have a year ago, and I could live with it. Work was going well. I was healthy. I considered adopting a dog, but maybe I’d go on holiday somewhere first. I could take my entire six weeks again and plan that trip to Texas. Or maybe not just Texas, but see some of the USA. Because why not? I had no one to think of but myself. I made tentative plans, bought a Lonely Planet guide on the States, dog-eared the pages of places I wanted to see, and carried on with my life.

One Thursday morning I received a call from Stan, asking if I could come and see him as soon as possible. I made an appointment for the same day after work and left early once I became too nervous to sit around any longer.

He ushered me into his office as soon as I arrived. “How set on keeping the house are you?” he asked me bluntly.

I didn’t even hesitate. “It’s mine,” I said. “It was ours. Sam wanted me to have it. It’s my home. I don’t want to leave.” Panic squeezed my insides when I realized the reality of the situation was I seriously could lose it. I needed the house. I felt like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to earth.

He pursed his lips. “In that case, we have a proposal, and I strongly urge you to take it. If you refuse, they’ll be taking it to court, and the assigned judge—” he sucked air in through his teeth “—let’s just say you’ll want to avoid him at all costs.”

“What’s the proposal?” I asked, mouth dry.

“My guess is they’re having money troubles. They want you to buy them out. You pay them half of what the house is worth and it’s all yours. I think I can reduce that to forty-five, maybe forty percent, because they’re desperate and that works in our favor. However, if they’re desperate enough and we push them too hard, they’ll want to go the whole way. They’ll know the judge is likely to rule in their favor. The only reason they’re doing this is because this whole thing is becoming too expensive and they need money now.”