Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
NICK
Three hours browsing a book fair turned out to be more fun than I’d expected.
I even found myself lingering over a table of old maps and sailing charts from the nineteenth century, much to Mads’ amusement.
I couldn’t even say why they interested me, other than it was less about the maps themselves than the annotations made by those who’d used them—corrections, additions, notes about potential food and water sources, the best anchorage spots, cautionary notes about the wildlife, and so on.
It offered a glimpse into the past and the minds of those intrepid sailors back in the day, and I’d been captivated.
This fascination hadn’t gone unnoticed by Mads, who presented me with one of the charts as a present at the end of the day.
When I’d opened my mouth to protest, he’d narrowed his eyes in a familiar I fucking dare you look, ensuring I promptly shut it again.
I was ridiculously touched and excited by the gift, but what gave me the greatest joy was seeing an electric sparkle light up Mads’ eyes when he took possession of the Hallas book.
He practically vibrated with pleasure, and when it became clear we’d achieve nothing more in the day until he’d had a little time to peruse it cover to cover, I bundled him into the on-site café and found a corner table for him to drool in peace.
While he was occupied, I grabbed a coffee and scrolled my phone at a table close by, having been given the stink-eye by Mads for even looking like I might consider handling liquids anywhere near his precious new book.
When his initial curiosity was finally sated, we left the fair with our bounty, which also included a fifty-dollar mystery box of modern crime fiction for me and a mixed box of old Bibles and random non-fiction academic tomes for Mads.
Back at the motel, we made good use of Mads’ new prescription as he punished me for the audacity to buy him an expensive gift, and I returned the favour, equally enthusiastically.
Satisfied and a little achy, we made a pot of tea—Mads was slowly winning me over to the brew—and talked.
I told him about my conversation with Chloe, including the subsequent meltdown.
Mads graciously made no mention of me declining his support and I might’ve loved him a little bit more for that.
We showered, spent time perusing our book fair purchases, and then hobbled our still burning arses to a nearby restaurant to eat our fill of fried rice, tom yum goong, som tum, and one of the best pad Thai I have ever eaten.
Next morning, we got up early and drove to the café we’d visited the day before for another delicious breakfast. Refusing to leave his precious book in the motel unit unsupervised for even an hour, Mads had taken it in his satchel as he had the night before when we’d gone to dinner.
The chart he’d bought for me was rolled into its tube and left under a coat in the back seat of the Focus.
I was pretty sure the rental car was less secure than the unit, but did I remind him of that?
No. No, I did not. Because when he’d seen me watching him with, okay, what could be seen by some as an indulgent smile, his expression grew chillingly stern and he’d warned me that some book collectors were not shy of employing a bit of skulduggery to add to their collections. Thievery, even.
Colour me shocked.
And also, thievery? Who the fuck used that word anymore?
“We can’t know for sure that we weren’t followed back here last night,” he huffed, his gaze skittering to the window like he half expected Dick Turpin to be skulking outside.
“The proprietors of this motel are clearly of debatable character. It shows in their lack of concern regarding the comfort of their guests. In my experience, lax hygiene standards are generally accompanied by equally slack security.”
The set of his jaw dared me to challenge the veracity of that association, so in the interest of self-preservation, I decided to leave it alone. I fancied my balls should remain exactly where they were.
“Uh-huh.” I kissed him on the head and led him outside. “I had no idea the world of book collecting was fraught with so much peril. I feel better just knowing you’re here to keep me safe.”
He replied with an epic eye roll. “Say what you like, but you don’t know what you don’t know. When it comes to the book-collecting fraternity, you’re a wide-eyed guppy swimming in a tank of sharks and you don’t even know it.”
He looked so serious, I couldn’t stop the laugh that broke from my mouth.
The man had raced past adorable and gone straight to irresistible.
I crowded him against the car and kissed him thoroughly, relishing the zingy hit of mint from his toothpaste before the warm rush of everything Mads filled my mouth and lit a fire in my belly.
He tasted of all that had been missing in my life for a long time, and I knew Davis would approve.
I took my sweet time, and when I was done, Mads wobbled on his feet and regarded me with a slightly unfocused edge to his gaze. He smiled coyly and asked, “What was that for?”
I opened the passenger door and waved him inside. “That, Mister Church, was for being the cutest fucking guy on the planet this morning.” I thought about that and added, “Actually, on every morning. Afternoons too. And then there are the nights.” I shot him a wink. “Just the cutest.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before a crease formed between his brows.
He opened his mouth to presumably protest or dismiss my words, but then closed it again, his cheeks blazing, his gaze sliding from me to the road ahead.
Taking advantage of the hush, I simply closed the door and made for the driver’s seat.
Mads turned to stare at me. “Nick, I—”
“No.” I put a hand softly over his mouth. “Let yourself be loved, baby. This is what it feels like. It’s the hardest thing in the world, I know, but I haven’t even started yet.”
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes glassy. Then a tiny, secret smile stole over his lips. “Thank you.” He turned and pointed through the windscreen. “Thataway. Before you make me fucking cry.”
I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I love you, too.”
Chloe’s townhouse sat in a tree-lined street on the western edge of Blenheim, a small town of about thirty thousand people situated in the famous grape growing region of Marlborough.
The townhouse was one of four identical homes built at a time when developers still saw the value of a decent-sized garden, a tree or two, and a bit of lawn.
Being the last property at the end of the driveway, Chloe’s townhouse had more privacy than the other three and even boasted a distant vineyard view over the back fence.
I pulled into one of the guest car parks and noticed that Chloe’s small garden was well-tended and bedded for winter, even if the townhouse itself could’ve done with a bit of a refresh.
Nothing that a coat of paint and a bit of TLC couldn’t fix, I mused, then promptly quashed that line of thinking since it had nothing to do with me.
I switched off the engine but didn’t move, stomach acid washing up my throat, my heart leaping around my chest like a freaking jackrabbit. When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I almost jumped through the roof.
Mads’ hand landed on my thigh. “You want me to get that?” he asked as my phone continued to ring.
“No,” I snapped, then winced. “Sorry.” I pulled out my phone and sighed when I saw the name. “Gazza.”
Mads gave a tiny smile. “Of course it is. I can talk to him if you’d prefer.”
“No, it’s fine.” I put the phone to my ear and answered with, “If I come home and find you’ve discovered my stash of Milkybars, there’ll be trouble.”
Mads scowled, and I figured, the lie was worth it just for his reaction.
Gazza laughed. “That was so last week, dickhead. I’ve moved on from there to your favourite IPA.”
I gasped. “You better not.”
“I guess you’ll find out when you get back.” Gazza paused and I heard Aaron talking with Lee in the background. “So,” Gazza began again. “We, ah . . . well, we just, um . . . wanted to wish you luck . . . you know . . . for the mother thing.”
I snorted. “The mother thing?”
“For fuck’s sake, give me that,” Lee’s voice rang down the line. “Sorry about that, Nick, but you really can’t get good help these days. What Gazza is trying to say is that we’re thinking of you. Both of you, since your mood has been ugly as sin recently from all the stress.”
Before I could protest, Mads chimed in. “That’s true. Thank you, Lee.”
I shot Mads a glare.
“It’s not like Aaron and I had a stellar parental experience,” Lee continued, “so we get how hard this must be. If it’s any help, the Nick we know now is awesome, so if today goes well, then great.
If not, lots of people already care deeply for you, like us, so fuck everyone else and the horse they rode in on. You don’t need them.”
I sat speechless, with my mouth hanging open. Lee didn’t do sappy. Hell, he barely did civil most days. To hear those words from his mouth meant so fucking much, and before I could stop it, a single fat tear rolled down my cheek.
Gazza took the phone back. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” A comment that earned him a snort of laughter from Aaron. “But seriously, we’re proud of you. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay because you have us to come back to.”
I swallowed around the clench in my throat and managed, “Thank you. And I love you guys too. I promise I’ll let you know how it goes, but give me a day or two to get my head around it first, yeah?”
“Of course,” Gazza agreed. “Tell Mads we’ll clean up the mess in his kitchen before he gets back. He’ll never even know we were there.”
“What?” Mads grabbed the phone from my hand. “What mess? It was spotless when I left. There’s a bunch of new cleaning products in—”
But Gazza had already ended the call.