Chapter 2
Chapter Two
FRANCIS
Maida Avenue
The walk to Maida Vale, unfortunately, hasn’t had quite the uplifting effect I was hoping for, though I have to admit that strolling around Little Venice is always somewhat magical, even if a little chaotic.
Fortunately, Remi and Seb’s home is in one of the quieter, less touristy corners of the area, and as I approach their Victorian villa with long strides, I can’t help but slow down for a moment, comparing it to my own.
At first glance, the setting is quite similar: an elegant, distinguished property in one of London’s most refined and well-kept neighbourhoods. But sadly, the similarities end there.
It’s not because Maida Avenue overlooks the canals while Kennington Park Road does not; the differences lie elsewhere, far subtler.
Though no less significant.
Here, the front path is decorated with colourful dinosaur-themed banners and balloons. In the neatly trimmed front garden, a soft foam ball lies abandoned alongside one of those little tricycles with a handlebar at the back, designed so parents can steer while their toddlers learn to pedal.
Hanging from the back of the tricycle is a tiny yellow backpack, decorated, of course, with a dinosaur and the name Leo printed in blue letters.
A sudden warmth spreads through my chest as I think of the little owner of that backpack. A smile rises instinctively to my lips, and I ring the doorbell of the Elliott Arnette house, already feeling far lighter than I did when I left Kennington Park.
“It’s Francis!” I announce as soon as I hear the intercom crackle to life.
“Oh sweetheart, how lovely! I can’t wait to give you a big hug!” Emma, my best friend’s mother, replies with her usual enthusiasm. “Come in, then join us out in the back garden, we’re all here.”
The intercom clicks off just as I hear the gate unlock with a sharp clunk. I step through and make my way up the path, taking in the adorable decorations, unmistakably Seb’s handiwork.
After stepping through the heavy front door, I close it carefully behind me. I’m about to cross the bright living room that leads out to the back garden when a faint rustling sound from the kitchen catches my attention.
Treading quietly, I head in that direction, just to make sure no one has crashed the party uninvited, but what I see when I peek through the slightly open door is something else entirely.
The two hosts are clearly caught up in activities that, while not exactly criminal, still carry a considerable risk of spontaneous combustion.
Sebastian is perched on the glossy white marble counter, his slender legs wrapped in black jeans and locked tightly around Remi’s waist. Remi, in turn, has his hands firmly on Sebastian’s hips in a possessive grip and, being much taller than his husband, is perfectly positioned to kiss him, which is exactly what he’s doing, with the kind of intensity that leaves no room for doubt.
Seb’s ankles are crossed behind Remi’s back, and I can’t help but notice his small bare feet, toenails painted black to match his fingernails, those same fingers currently tangled in Remi’s blond hair, pulling him even closer.
The scene is incredibly intimate and erotic, and despite myself, I find I can’t look away.
For a moment, I just stand there, stunned by the sheer heat radiating off the two of them as they practically devour each other, kissing and moaning like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, like nothing matters except the unbreakable bond between them.
Suddenly, a sharp pang strikes my chest.
It isn’t envy, I love these friends dearly and couldn’t be happier for them. It’s more a reminder of everything I long for and still don’t know if I’ll ever find.
I snap out of my trance, realising I’d better make my presence known before things heat up any further.
“You two are absolutely hopeless!” I chuckle loudly enough for them to hear, then push open the kitchen door and step inside, hoping they won’t notice I’ve been watching them for a little longer than I should have.
My worries prove entirely unnecessary, as Remi and Seb are so completely lost in one another that it takes them a few seconds to register my presence.
When they finally realise they’re being watched, they both jump slightly in surprise.
They turn to face me, lips swollen and hair dishevelled. Remi shoots me a murderous glare, while Sebastian blushes adorably, hurriedly unhooking his legs from around his husband’s waist.
Remi wastes no time in scolding me: “Fran, you really are a killjoy. I finally manage to get a moment alone with my husband and, of course, who shows up? You!”
I know Remi far too well to be fooled by his exasperated tone, so I approach, chuckling, and pull him into a brotherly hug that instantly makes me feel at home, in every sense of the word.
He returns the hug with a theatrical sigh, while Seb, who has by now hopped gracefully to the floor, casually adjusts his jeans, from which a sinful flash of black lace had been peeking out.
If I had to guess, I’d say it belongs to the thong he’s wearing under his Levi’s.
Once again, I find myself thinking just how lucky my best friend is, and my gaze probably lingers on Sebastian a second too long.
“Hey… stop staring at him like that!” Remi growls, pulling his husband protectively towards him, as though I might snatch him away at any moment.
I raise my hands in mock surrender, shaking my head at his possessiveness.
Remi was never like this before he met Sebastian, but ever since they’ve been together, he’s become incredibly territorial.
Seb smiles at me again, growing increasingly flustered, but before he can apologise for his husband’s bluntness, I cut in: “It’s not my fault, mate, if your husband just keeps getting more gorgeous with every passing day...”
Remi is already clenching his jaw, so I quickly add: “Fatherhood clearly suits you both, you’re absolutely glowing. Though I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting a live Kamasutra demonstration the moment I walked into your house!”
I smile at them both with an innocent expression, secretly amused by how easy it is to wind Remi up, especially when it comes to making him jealous.
The mention of fatherhood, however, seems to have done the trick, defusing his rising temper.
Seb, meanwhile, shakes his head at me like I’m a mischievous child, though he can’t quite hide the satisfied little smile that creeps onto his lips at his husband’s possessiveness.
“You’re unbelievable! And to think, it used to be you, Fran, calling me the prude!” Remi laughs, leaning down to kiss Sebastian on the temple, then lingering for a moment, burying his nose in Seb’s long black hair as if breathing him in.
He’s probably thinking back to the days when I used to tease him mercilessly with my dodgy jokes about our friends’ sex lives, or my own with Anne, all the while completely unaware that he’d already fallen head over heels for the sexiest pianist in all of England…
Before my thoughts can drift too far back to those days, when I foolishly believed my own relationship was rock solid, I steer the conversation into safer waters.
“Speaking of fatherhood, where’s my favourite nephew got to?”
Although I have nieces and nephews of my own, my siblings’ children, I don’t see little Leo any differently. If anything, quite the opposite.
Remi and I are more than brothers, and I would protect Leo with my life, if it ever came to it.
“Our little treasure’s out in the garden with the whole gang...” Sebastian replies, his expression suddenly so tender it makes my heart ache.
He and Remi got married three years ago, and last year they officially became the adoptive parents of little Leo, who was just a few days old at the time.
Despite both being very young, they approached parenthood with remarkable awareness and maturity. They’ve each faced complicated family histories, albeit for different reasons, and both longed to create a family of their own.
I always knew they’d make wonderful parents; I just hadn’t realised quite how much.
Remi and Seb have turned out to be exceptional fathers: present, involved, and, despite busy, successful careers, completely devoted to their son and their family.
Since Leo arrived, if anything, they seem even happier and more complete. And their joy is mine too, because I truly love them both with all my heart.
Yet a part of me can’t help but fear that theirs is one of those rare, blessed exceptions, and that I may never find my own happy ending.
“Come on, mate!” Remi says, throwing an arm around my shoulders while keeping his other firmly around his husband. “I think it’s time to get this party started, everyone else is here; it was just you and Ian we were waiting for.”
“Remi! The salmon canapés...” Seb interrupts him. “Technically, we came into the kitchen to get those,” he adds, his green eyes sparkling as he flashes a mischievous smile at his husband, his trademark dimple appearing in his left cheek.
“I’ve got it, guys!” I say, reaching out for the serving platter on the counter, where an elegant display of canapés awaits… shaped like dinosaurs!
We glance at one another for a moment, and then all three of us burst out laughing.
We’re still laughing wholeheartedly as we head out to the garden, arms around each other, barely managing to carry the platter between us.