Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
We sit on the sofa. I flop in a sprawl, legs up on the ottoman, putting an arm around Stef.
He leans into me. His head is on my shoulder, a hand on my chest. I draw in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, the scent of his skin.
Stef takes a few deep breaths too, steadying his breathing.
“Okay?” I ask.
“A little better.”
“Good.”
“I wish things were different…” Stef says finally.
Which makes two of us.
“They can be different to some degree,” I say.
“Like how?”
“Like… if you could do anything you wanted right now, what would that be?”
Stef traces my chest. “Aside from you?”
“Doing me is always a fun choice. Though I said anything, not anyone.” I kiss the top of his head. “But aside from me. Pretend you’ve never met me. What would you want to do? What about that PhD you told me about?”
“My father hates the idea.”
“What do you want?” I ask pointedly. Stef’s obviously spent too much of his life confined by other people’s expectations. A problem I haven’t faced too much until recently. And I’m grateful for my parents letting me live as normal a life as I could manage. Till now.
Stef shifts to look at me, pensive. “I want to do the PhD. I want to help return stolen Greek artifacts, like I told you before. But… I’ll probably need family support to do that.” Stef sighs. “I don’t have any income. Just a monthly allowance, still.”
“Like… financial support for the PhD?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you could get scholarships. Right?”
He shifts again, tugging his legs under him, and gives me a level look. As if I clearly have no clue. Which, admittedly, I don’t know about graduate school or PhD programs or scholarships. “Like those are easy to get.”
I grin at him. “C’mon. You’re smart. And passionate on the topic. So, go get some scholarships, then.”
Stef snorts. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Sure. In some ways, it is. You apply for funding and scholarships and grants. It’ll feel good to make your own way. It’s your life to live in the end.”
“You’re lucky your parents were on your side,” Stef says wistfully. And he’s right.
“Very lucky. Now. What about this pack of brothers you mentioned? You never said how your visit with Giorgos was.” I’m intrigued to know more about him and his family.
“Yeah, good. We get along.”
“You said you grew up in Hampstead?”
He nods. “We played on the heath when we were small. Our parents took us out. The three of us, till the youngest showed up a while later. My oldest friends are still in London.”
“What are your brothers’ names?” I ask curiously. Stef hasn’t said too much about his family.
“Giorgios, then Kostas, then me, and then Spiros, the youngest.” Stef looks at me. “I was the youngest for a long time, then Spiros was a bit of a surprise. He’s still at home. He’s fifteen.”
“The oldest?”
“Giorgos is thirty. He’s the closest to my parents and has his MBA. Kostas is the rebel, and he went to study acting, and now he’s in LA and getting into film. Then there’s me. And Spiros is great at sports. I can see him getting a scholarship at an American university for soccer, as they call it.”
“See? If Kostas made his own path, so can you,” I encourage. If Stef’s family gave his brother Kostas the freedom to pursue his dreams, so can Stef. There’s space. He just has to see it. “Channel that big black sheep energy.”
Stef makes an unhappy sound. “I’m not like him. Or like you. It’s different for me.”
“Blaze a trail, gorgeous. You can do it.” I frown slightly at him and wish I could make him see he’s got this in the bag if he puts his mind to it. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”
“I’ll… think about it.”
“Do it instead. There. We nearly solved one problem. Next problem?” I ask, as if we’re lining up and knocking down problems like nobody’s business. “Such as being gay or bi and practically telling no one about that?”
Stef squirms.
“Would they disinherit you or something?”
“I don’t know. Probably not?” He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I just… feel like I would disappoint them. They always talk about wanting grandchildren.”
“Us gays have families too, you know. If we want them.”
Stef reaches out to trace my jaw, and I lean into his warm fingers. “Theo, you make everything sound so easy,” he complains.
“Same answer as above. Make your own path. It’s not always easy, but it’s your own.”
“You and James. You’re both so fearless.” Stef shakes his head at himself. “I know I overthink everything. My biggest talent.”
“Channel that into the PhD.”
He shifts again, curling into me, and I slide my arm around him again, as easy as breathing. “What about your family?” Stef asks.
“What about them? I’ve got Mamma and Freja. I’m the one that turns everyone’s hair gray.” I smile. But I love them both, and even though Freja and I aren’t quite seeing eye to eye right now, we’re loyal to each other. “But yeah, we get on well overall.”
Stef plays with my fingers. He glances up at me. For a moment, he holds back. “And if you could do whatever you wanted, would it involve the Duke of Wiltshire?”
He says this so smoothly it should be a crime—and it hits like a fist to the solar plexus. It’s tough to draw a breath in. I open my mouth and shut it. “Unfair,” I protest. “Some of us have fewer choices than other people.”
“Cop-out. Answer the question. Yes or no?”
“Fuck, Stef. I mean, in ordinary circumstances, no, but—”
His gaze is piercing. “Then why would you—”
“Because I’m the disaster prince needing a fucking makeover, right? For future kingly duties.”
“You think it’s reasonable to marry someone as a cover?” Stef scoffs at me. “I mean, do you even know him at all, this man? Getting married to a stranger’s completely ridiculous.”
“I know Eddie’s a duke and James’ relative. He comes complete with a recommendation. Admittedly from James.”
Stef groans. “The foundation of any good marriage.”
“Yes.” I reach out and catch his jaw, holding his gaze. “Exactly. Strategic alliances, like James said.”
“What does he get out of this?” he asks skeptically. He leans into my fingers ever so slightly. “The duke. Not James.”
I squawk theatrically. Like he even needs to ask. “Me, of course. I’m a catch. And he gets a whole kingdom besides, as my consort. I mean, what’s there not to like? Aside from living in the public eye and a heavy schedule of royal duties, that is.”
Stef stares me down. “I don’t like this,” he says flatly.
“What, you don’t think I’m a great catch?” I tease mercilessly, not wanting to dive deep into this. Not really. I want to go back to last night, to pretending everything’s fine. “There’s a whole line down the street and into the next town—”
Stef growls in that way I’m really starting to adore when I’ve gotten under his skin. And I’m a very, very bad man for thrilling in his reaction so much.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” he complains. “I mean, I don’t think you should marry the Duke of Wiltshire at all, full stop—”
“You mean Duke Eddie—”
“Duke Edward of Wiltshire—”
“Well then, who should I marry?” I protest, waving my free hand. I’ve hardly got a list of strategic, reputation-fixing prospects to choose from. “I can’t marry Auggie—he’s spoken for. Also, he’s going to be a king himself too someday. Conflict of interest. All of the kings know it—”
“You’re so annoying.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” I ask archly, grinning. It’s so much fun to provoke him. I’ll be serious in a minute. “Since you have sooo many opinions, evidently—”
“God, Theo, stop, fuck—marry me instead,” Stef finishes with authority. “If you have to marry someone.”
That’s when the proverbial fist hits me in the guts once more. And I’m left reeling and breathless.