Chapter 1 #2
He’d known full well they’d never been intended for this type of scenario, but what could I do?
And so, I’d gone, agreeing it was probably better to give people some actual facts to gossip about rather than rumours and speculation.
But to say I’d been nervous was like saying Beyonce had a fair to middling set of lungs on her.
It had been a mistake.
An epic one.
Luther’s flat was festooned with Davis Minton memorabilia, including a giant blow-up of the last book cover.
A photo of Davis and Nick on their wedding day stood front and centre on the mantelpiece next to the fire, and the playlist was apparently made up of Davis’s favourite songs.
I should’ve read the room and skedaddled right then and there, but Nick’s white-knuckle grip on my hand held me captive.
It went downhill from there. The minute we walked into the apartment the condolences and tears began, along with an outpouring of sympathy for Nick.
Nick, who was standing in front of them, holding my hand.
Nick, who looked positively stricken and completely bamboozled by the inappropriate onslaught.
Nick, caught between a rock and a hard place.
Piss off Davis’s friends by protesting and trying to include me, or piss me off by not.
I might’ve been invited by name, but I quickly saw that it was only from politeness or curiosity. Or maybe they hadn’t expected me to actually attend. Thanks for that, Nick.
Regardless, Nick and I had walked right into it.
I should’ve stayed home. Nick should’ve gone on his own.
Nick had been na?vely hopeful, and I’d been just plain stupid to let him talk me into it.
All of which meant that his failure to acknowledge our relationship in any of the ensuing introductions or to have my back in the face of the many insensitive comments hurt like hell. But it was also kind of understandable.
I wasn’t holding Nick entirely responsible.
The situation was way more than just complicated, and we’d both been ambushed.
It was too soon for a lot of these people.
Too soon after Davis’s death. Too soon in Nick’s and my .
. . relationship. No one was ready for me to be at Nick’s side and they maybe wouldn’t be for a long time.
Lesson learned.
And as far as uncomfortable scenarios went, the evening pretty much took the cake.
There were far too many long silences if I was in the vicinity; a lot of concerned, puzzled, curious, and even some outright hostile looks had been directed my way; and a ton of reminiscing about incidents that involved Nick and Davis, which left me feeling like a third wheel on a very rickety bike.
To be fair, some of the incidents had been fun to hear about and I’d even joined in the gentle ribbing.
But after the first hour, the banter lost its lustre.
Nick’s hand regularly found mine in an attempt at reassurance, but he didn’t interrupt the flow of conversation or try to change the topic.
Eventually, I’d excused myself from his side and found a distant wall to lean against and nurse my bruises.
Luther, Davis’s best mate, spotted me skulking and joined me with an offer to top up my drink.
Impeccably dressed in dark fitted jeans and a crisp white linen shirt, he was somewhere in his late forties, a tall, lean man with a mass of dark brown waves and warm hazel eyes.
He had a strikingly angular face that, while not classically handsome, drew your attention, and he’d been one of the few people to give me a warm hug on our arrival.
In this crowd that practically earned him a sainthood, I gratefully accepted his offer and thanked him for hosting the event.
If I was murdered, I’d probably be polite with the culprit, so don’t judge me.
But Luther hadn’t been fooled for a second. When he’d returned with a brimming glass of admittedly excellent South Otago Pinot Noir a few minutes later, he gave my hand a long squeeze and whispered, “This too will pass, sweetheart. You and I must have coffee together.”
Startled, I did my best not to show it and nodded rather than lie straight to the man’s face. On the basis of what I’d experienced so far, I had precisely zero intention of cosying up to any of Davis’s friends, grief be damned.
Luther grinned. “Ouch. You have a crap poker face, do you know that?”
The comment made me laugh, which was pretty much a miracle at that point. “Yep,” I agreed. “Nick says I can’t lie for shit.”
Luther glanced over to where Nick stood talking with a short, balding man and said, “He’s in love with you. Everyone can see it. That’s why some of them are being such fucking ugly pricks.”
The assertion, especially coming from Davis’s best friend, brought a lump to my throat.
Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away, not realising until that moment just how deeply I’d felt the rejection.
My gaze darted questioningly to his. “That’s somewhat of a surprise statement—” I glanced around the room. “—all things considered.”
Luther shrugged. “There’s a lot of people here that can’t, or won’t, get their heads out of their arses when it comes to Davis and Nick.
But I’ve seen the way Nick looks at you.
His eyes have that same softness I saw with Davis.
Now, personally, I love the grumpy bastard, but let’s be honest. Nick’s a hard character with an unforgiving nature.
Which means you must be pretty special to have broken through that prickly exterior.
” He smiled kindly. “And if I had to guess, I’d say that getting to this point in your relationship was no walk in the park. ”
Jesus Christ. The man was going to make me fucking cry. “No.” I swallowed hard. “Not exactly.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I took a long guzzle from my glass instead.
“Yeah. I thought so.” Luther waggled his fingers at Nick, who was sending worried glances our way.
“Davis would be happy; I hope you know that.” Luther faced me again.
“He’d be happy for both of you. I am too.
” His eyes glistened as he squeezed my shoulder.
“Fuck everyone else. Some will come around. Some won’t.
They’re not important, although it won’t stop me having a quiet word with a few of the worst culprits. ”
Horrified, I rushed to protest. “No, please. I don’t want—”
“But I do.” Luther’s eyes flashed with a cool anger, then he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice. But this is my apartment, my best friend’s widower and his new partner, and I don’t take kindly to my guests being made to feel unwelcome. There’s grief, and then there’s plain bad manners.”
Taken aback, I simply nodded and said, “Thank you.”
Luther squeezed my hand. “You’re welcome.
And I’ll be calling you about that coffee.
In the meantime, if you’d like to follow the hall to the end, my study has a small but interesting shelf of old books.
I’m embarrassed to admit they’re not really my thing, but my grandfather was a collector of sorts, and you might find it interesting.
I’ll tell Nick where to find you.” He gave my hand another squeeze and walked away, and for the first time since we’d arrived, I felt I might have found a place in this group.
An hour later, Nick found me curled up in an armchair with my nose buried in an 1893 leather-bound edition of The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott.
He took my hand, kissed me thoroughly, and we left the party early.
Clearly embarrassed, he apologised for his friends all the way home, but the memory still stung and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole experience, including Nick’s part in it.
We’d gone to bed and hadn’t talked since.
Nick put the remains of his toast back on his plate and pushed it away. He picked up his coffee, put it down without taking a sip, and picked it up again. When he put it down the second time, I reached across the table and took his hand.
“Stop worrying,” I told him. “I’m fine. I’m a big boy, Nick. I’ll survive. We’ll survive.”
Those beautiful grey eyes lifted to mine and I flinched at the guilt I saw buried in their depths.
“But you shouldn’t have had to go through that.
What the hell were they thinking? Bunch of arseholes.
And I just fucking let them. I should’ve said something and I didn’t.
I should’ve done something, and I didn’t.
” His fingers tightened around mine. “I let you down . . . again.”
No, you didn’t. I circled the table and sat next to him. “Okay. So, I guess we’re doing this.” I took a breath. “Am I pissed off at you for not doing more? Yeah. Little bit.” I held my thumb and finger barely apart. “But mostly I’m pissed off at myself that I didn’t insist on staying behind.”
He winced. “You tried to warn me and I didn’t listen.”
I shrugged. “No, but what happened was their responsibility, not yours. You were put in an impossible situation. As for what they were thinking? I’d guess that they simply weren’t ready for me.
I was there and Davis wasn’t. You know what that’s like, remember?
Did I like what happened? Hell no, I didn’t.
Luther made a well-intentioned mistake in inviting me along, and we made one in accepting that.
On your own, you could’ve maybe paved the way for me at a later date. ”
Nick spun in his chair and cradled my face. “I’m so fucking sorry, Mads. I should’ve had your back . . . our backs . . . and I didn’t. It won’t happen again.”
I tipped his chin up, forcing him to look at me. “Thank you. And not everyone was a jerk. Luther was pretty great, as it turned out. He’s even asked me out for coffee.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
I nodded. “I think we even could become friends.”
Nick snorted. “You just wanna ogle his book collection.”
I grinned. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”