Chapter 40 Evan
EVAN
Mark unlocks the door to their new premises. “Ignore the smell. Fresh paint and optimism.”
“I love the smell of fresh paint,” I say as I walk inside. Light shines through the tall arched windows, the large space like a blank canvas.
“So is it just the two of you that own NEN Creative?” Mark asks.
Nate stands in the centre of the room, taking in the high ceilings. “And my wife, Nora. She’s the other N in NEN.”
“She did the illustrations for the kids’ workshop wall and the drawing on the logo.” My chest swells, and I catch Nate smiling with pride.
“Your wife is very talented.” Mark walks towards the side door.
“Yeah, she is.” I roll the tape measure between my palms. Pride swells in my chest. Nate isn’t the only one who gets to feel it.
Mark gestures around the room. “So this will be the main workshop space. We want it flexible. Classes during the day, private events in the evening.” He walks us through a side door. “Let me show you the kids’ workshop room.”
The smaller room is less intimidating with a lower ceiling, but still lots of windows and a lovely view of the gardens.
“Is this the wall for Nora’s illustration?” I point to a long, blank wall.
“Yes. We’re having a row of fitted units with storage along there, and the illustration will run above.”
I hand Nate the end of the tape measure and stretch it out along the wall, jotting numbers down in my notebook.
Nate nods along with Mark in full work mode. “So under these windows, I suggest you have the chalkboards so the little ones can be creative. Then, over there next to the door, we can add the rack with pegs to hang up artwork. You can switch out as often as you wish.”
“I love that idea. This is going to be my favourite space. It doesn’t matter if it gets messy in here.
We want it to be bright and colourful. Michael and I love the wavy rainbow Nora did on the illustration.
It brings the whole thing together.” He points to the windows.
“We thought the rainbow could continue on the glass.”
“You could have it on transparent vinyl so it still lets light in and you still get a view of the gardens.” I release the tape measure and let it retract, then move towards the far wall, measuring height this time.
Someone’s stuck a child’s drawing to the plaster with masking tape—two male stick figures holding hands, two kids and a wonky house behind them.
Mark chuckles, following my gaze. “Leo wanted to be the first to have his artwork on the wall.”
I smile at the picture showing an unconventional family. “It’s nice.”
Nate glances at it too, his eyes softening.
Mark clears his throat and carries on. “The back room is where we’ll do our life drawing classes. We want this room to be more decadent and warmer.”
“This is a nice space,” I say as we walk into the back.
“This will be more intimate, and we want it to feel less stark for our models and our artists.” He lifts the paint tins up from the floor, a selection of swatches painted on the wall. “We’re going for moody mauve and decadent duck egg.”
We move around the rooms, measuring up what we need while Mark makes some calls in a small office upstairs.
Nate reaches past me to check a measurement, and our shoulders brush. “You think they have naked models?”
My chest shakes with a silent laugh. “That’s what life drawing’s all about.”
“I wonder what the models look like.”
“Cal said Mark’s husband, Michael, used to pose.” I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know if he still does.”
Nate nods. “Makes sense.”
“Why?”
“The man is like a chiselled god.” He clears his throat, then stiffens.
“I mean—he’s got that whole handsome but rugged look.
The jawline. The blonde hair. Broad shoulders.
” He shrugs. “Not that I’m saying I noticed.
Or that I find him attractive. Just objectively, he’s like, traditionally movie star good-looking. ”
I bite my lip to stifle a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re allowed to say another man is attractive, Nate,” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “It doesn’t mean you want to fuck him.”
He shoots me a look. “I know that. I’m just—”
“Overexplaining?”
His ears go pink as he squirms. “Shut up.”
Warmth spreads low in my chest. He feels it too. I can sense it. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet. Neither do I.
“You all done here?” Mark says, walking back into the room.
“Just got to measure up at the front and take some pictures,” I say, retracting the tape measure. I turn back to Nate, who’s gazing at the kid’s picture again. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” He follows us outside into the late afternoon sun, an autumn breeze swirling leaves around our feet. He takes the tape measure from me, and our fingers brush. Warmth radiates from his touch. It’s addictive.
Mark locks up behind us, keys jangling. “We’re five minutes away. You can follow me.”
Nate nods, already moving towards the car, professional mask back in place.
Whatever this is between us, it’s no longer contained to our office or private rooms. It’s coming with us.
“Nice area,” Nate says as we pull up at Mark’s home in the country.
“I thought it was going to be modern.” I pull behind his car on the gravel drive. “Business is definitely going well.”
“Sure looks like it. We should have quoted more,” Nate says with a chuckle.
We get out of the car and follow Mark up the path to his traditional country home.
“We bought this house when we adopted our daughter. My husband and I wanted to move out of the city and raise our family close to his parents, and we’ve been renovating this house ever since.”
“It’s nice.” I take in the hanging baskets with what’s left of the summer flowers still clinging to life, the neatly cut lawn at the front, and carefully trimmed hedges.
“Michael’s the keen gardener, not me.” He opens the door and the smell of roasted chicken, garlic and something sweet hits me. It smells like home, like walking into Nate’s when Nora’s cooking. “Hello, we’re here.”
“Leo, Daddy’s home,” Michael shouts as he walks down the hall to greet us. I say hall, but it’s the size of my living room. “Nice to meet you again, Nate. I’m glad you could join us for dinner.”
Nate shakes his hand. “Thanks for having us.” He gestures towards me. “This is my partner, Evan.”
I take Michael’s hand, not missing how Nate said partner. I know he means business partner, but the word fills my chest with warmth. “Nice to meet you.”
“Dinner’s nearly ready.” He bends down and tidies the kids’ shoes, moving them to the side. “Come through and make yourselves comfortable.”
The hallway walls are a patchwork of framed sketches, abstract art, children’s finger paintings, and one enormous canvas that belongs in a gallery rather than above a shoe rack.
A blur of movement barrels towards us.
“Leo, slow down,” Michael calls from the kitchen.
Too late. Leo skids across the wooden floor and crashes straight into Mark’s legs, arms wrapping around his knees like a koala. “Dadda.”
Mark lifts him into his arms. “You remember Nate from Daddy’s work?”
“Sticker man.”
Nate laughs. “I have something for you.” He gives the kid a book that Nora picked up from the shop.
“Fankoo.”
A girl sneaks up behind him, around six, dark curls tied back with a ribbon, paint smudged faintly on her cheek.
“This is Rosie,” Mark says. “She’s our resident photographer.”
Rosie squints at us. “Papa said you’re the logo people.”
I grin. “Guilty.”
The kitchen is warm and chaotic in the best way, with an open-plan space and a long wooden table sitting in the dining area, already set with mismatched plates, jars of cutlery, and a jug of water with lemon slices floating inside.
A tray of roasted vegetables rests on the counter beside a golden chicken, skin crisped and glistening.
“This smells incredible,” I say.
Michael beams. “I leave the art to Mark and I like to get creative in the kitchen.”
“He’s lying. He loves to get involved at the workshop.” Mark helps Michael serve while we take our seats at the table, and I give his daughter a sticker book like the one Nate gave Leo.
“Thank you.” She quietly flips through the pages, chewing on the inside of her cheek while carefully deciding what sticker to place on what scene in the book. Meanwhile, Leo’s already stuck stickers to the chair, his forehead and the tablecloth.
Dinner is loud. Rosie tells Nate how she wants to be a photographer and a vet.
Leo drops his fork twice and laughs like it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened, insisting that when he grows up, he's going to be a dinosaur. Mark cuts the kids’ chicken into small bites, while Michael rolls his eyes.
“Do you two have kids?” Rosie asks.
Nate almost chokes on his chicken.
“Not yet,” I say, giving Nate a pat on the back while he coughs.
“I’m sorry your wife couldn’t make it,” Michael says.
Nate takes a drink of water and wipes his lips with his napkin. “Don’t be too sorry, she’s at a spa with her friend. She texted earlier saying they’d had afternoon tea and were enjoying a massage before they get ready for a three-course meal.”
“Oooh, I love a spa,” Mark says. “We should book one. We haven’t had a massage in years.”
“I can give you a massage,” Michael says.
Nate’s cheeks flush as he places his napkin back on his lap, his fingers brushing against my thigh.
Michael leans over to wipe Leo’s mouth. Mark refills Rosie’s water. It’s so normal, both of them comfortable with who they are. I’ve never really let myself picture this before. But sitting here, watching Mark and Michael raising kids, making it look so effortless, makes me want what they have too.
Dessert is apple crumble and custard, served straight from the dish. Rosie insists on spooning custard herself, missing the bowl entirely and splashing the table.
“Abstract,” Michael declares.
Nate laughs, and the table joins in as the custard stains the cloth. This is what family looks like, regardless of gender or sexuality. No labels, just love.