Epilogue
Aidan
Six months later . . .
Ludo grips the bedframe so hard I’m sure it might splinter.
That is if I don’t explode into a million pieces first. He’s been riding me for what seems like hours, and I can’t fucking cope.
He does things to me I can’t explain, and I’m not cut out for it.
I can’t deal with the white-hot pleasure sluicing through me or how much I love him.
I screw my eyes shut, thrusting up, chasing the only thing that will end this beautiful torture.
Ludo gasps. He wavers, and I take my chance to overpower him.
I move like a snake and flip him onto his back. He laughs, but I swallow it with a kiss. I drive into him, hunched over him, worshipping him, and I don’t stop until wet warmth pulses between us, and I come like a fucking train.
My lungs burn like I’ve run a marathon. I collapse on top of him and sink a playful bite into his neck.
“Vampire.” He shoves me, but it’s half-hearted. He likes it when I cover him with my body. It grounds him and helps him feel safe, so naturally I’ll lie on him all day if that’s what he wants.
It isn’t—at least not today. It’s early in the morning and winter darkness still cloaks the house, but Ludo’s feeling good. He smiles at me, soft and beautiful, and rolls out of bed to clean up and put the kettle on.
I have become dangerously used to weekend breakfasts in bed.
Bacon sandwiches, sausage butties, scrambled eggs and thickly buttered toast—the trouble with being happy is that it might give me a heart attack.
I’m not about to turn it down, though. Last week was my first go at climbing again. I’m tired, sore, and hungry.
Ludo returns with the weird egg thing he does with the rustic bread I buy him from the Italian deli by Bernard’s office. He cuts holes in the bread and fries the egg inside it. It’s amazing and I can easily eat six of them.
“We’re going to Michael’s today,” Ludo says around a mouthful of food. “I wrapped the presents for the kids while you were in the shower last night. I forgot to tell you.’”
“You didn’t have to get his kids presents. He won’t be expecting that.”
“Yeah, but it’s Christmas next week and he’ll be expecting you to forget. That’s why I stole your debit card . . . so you could pay for them and not feel bad.”
I snort out a laugh. “Fair enough. How are you feeling about meeting my tiny family? Are you nervous?”
Ludo shrugs. “Um, not really. Bella’s coming, so I’ll be fine. I’m embarrassed to meet Michael, though. If he works in the hospital, God knows what he’s heard about me.”
I recall the one and only conversation I’ve had with Michael about Ludo since he came through for me six months ago.
Rita told me he’s lovely. That was before she knew I was your cousin, though.
Then she told me to do one and mind my own business.
“I don’t think he’s heard anything. Rita guards you like a rabid hen. ”
“Probably just as well.”
“If you say so. I don’t think Michael would ever judge you for being just about anything, let alone sick. You have no idea how often he stopped me smothering my dad in his sleep.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Then stop trying. All I’m saying is that Michael’s a good bloke. He’s way nicer than me.”
Ludo takes my empty plate and gives it to the cat—Marcus—who now resides in his house . . . with me. “I don’t believe that. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
“Only to you, mate.”
He treats me to a smouldering glare. “Liar.”
Ludo
Aidan’s family—Michael, his wife, and his super cute kids—are nicer than him, but only on the surface. I mean, they’re lovely people, but there’s no one on this planet as selfless as Aidan.
All day I watch him eat the terrible food Michael has cooked as though it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten, slip sweets to the kids under the table, and repair broken bits of the kitchen when no one’s looking, and I realise that no one sees him the way I do because he doesn’t want them to.
Perhaps if I was a different man, I’d want to fix that, but I don’t, because Aidan isn’t broken, and neither am I.
In the afternoon, he takes Bella out in the garden with Michael’s son to play ball. I stay in front of the fire and play dominoes with the little girl and decide that being warm isn’t so bad after all.
Michael sits in a weathered armchair, watching me. There are days that would bother me, but not today. Yellow and black has become a cosy shade of orange.
“You’ve changed him,” Michael says after a while.
I spare him a glance as I try to figure out how to let his daughter win our game without her noticing. “Doubt it. I don’t think it’s possible for a person to alter the fundamental make up of another.”
Michael chuckles softly. “Technically, you’re right, but you didn’t know Aidan before. I’ve never seen him so content.”
“You don’t think he’s capable of feeling that way by himself?”
“Of course I do. I’m just glad that he loves you.”
I don’t understand why Michael didn’t say that in the first place rather than coming at me with words that don’t mean anything.
Aidan loves me and I love him, but that doesn’t mean we’ve healed each other.
Pain is still real. Black is still black.
The only difference is that we’re both still there at the end.
Still. Damn it. I hate word repetition, and my distraction lets Aidan’s niece win the game without any assistance from me.
I high five her and wave as Michael takes her upstairs for a bath.
It’s getting late. We should go soon, but I like being in the bosom of Aidan’s family. He belongs here, and maybe I do too.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Aidan drops onto the floor beside me and stretches out. “Everything okay?”
“Yup. I’m thinking about families. I like yours.”
“Is this a good time to talk about yours then?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Not true. You have a cousin too, and you asked me to look him up, remember?”
Of course I remember, but I’ve been hoping Aidan forgot. Tracking Angelo down seemed like a good idea for a hot minute, but then doubts set in. After all, it’s not like he’s ever come looking for me.
Aidan touches my face. “I don’t have to tell you if you don’t want me to.”
“Tell me what?”
“What I found on Facebook.”
“Tell me.”
“Are you sure?”
I’m not, but then who’s ever truly certain about anything? Knowledge is power, right? And knowing Aidan knows something I don’t is a recipe for disaster. “Tell me.”
“Okay . . . so he’s not a dancer anymore, and he lives in Cornwall. He’s got a boyfriend called Dylan, walks with crutches, and he does something with horses.”
“What?”
Aidan shrugs. “That’s all I’ve got from stalking, and half of my assumptions are probably wrong, but if it’s any consolation, he looks happy.”
“Is he still beautiful?”
“If you like that sort of thing.”
“What do you like?”
Aidan grins and kisses the tip of my nose. “I like you. But you knew that already. What do you want to do about Angelo? Do you want me to contact him for you?”
That he’s willing to speak to anyone who isn’t me, Bella, or the cat tells me, as if I ever needed reassurance, that he really loves me.
I don’t know how to answer his question, though.
In his absence, Angelo has become an almost mythical being who resides in the darkest parts of my brain.
I’m not sure I’m ready to set him free. I shake my head slowly. “Not yet.”
Aidan nods and draws his hand from behind his back. His fingers are wrapped around a sprig of mistletoe. “I found this in the garden. Picked it up so Bella wouldn’t scoff it.”
“Do you want me to kiss you, Aidan?”
His smile is a mile wide. “Yeah, Ludo, I do.”
I kiss him. Once, twice, three times. Then I breathe in and kiss him again.