Better With Kevin

Chapter 7

“All right, Phil, that’ll do. I think we’re good. Let’s go.” I gave Phil’s lead a gentle tug. In return, he gave me a reproachful look. “We’re going to see Ray,” I told him. “Don’t you want to see Ray?”

Phil pointedly finished sniffing the lamppost, decided that whoever had watered it before him had done a good enough job and no additions were necessary, and plodded over to join me. He misjudged the distance and bumped into my leg.

Had he done that last week, after Kevin had introduced me to the joys of intercrural sex and had proven that my muscle tone was, in fact, shit, I’d have crumpled to the pavement.

Thankfully, my thighs had recovered. Although they were still sore, and I was going to ask Ray for any leg-strengthening yoga tips.

I didn’t love yoga, but the odds of me doing it were significantly higher than the odds of me adding another set or two of reps to my squat routine on the rare occasion I managed to talk myself into going to the gym.

We strolled on through the quiet Saturday morning streets of Chipping Fairford, Phil pausing now and then for a little sit, or if we came across another lamppost, postbox, or parked car that needed investigating.

It was a brisk ten-minute walk from my house to Ray’s. With Phil, it was a thirty to forty-minute exercise in patience.

He picked up speed the closer we got to Ray’s house. Dougal Hughes lived over the road, and Phil knew it.

Once, when Phil and I showed up to visit Ray, Dougal had been standing in his drive, waiting to be loaded into the back of Mrs Hughes’ car.

For some reason, that sweet old gentleman of a West Highland terrier hated my poor Phil with a passion.

He always had. Every time he set eyes on Phil, he went berserk.

That day was no different. Mrs Hughes had to all but rugby-tackle him before he could run over the road to kick Phil’s arse, while Phil had run up Ray’s drive so quickly, he’d nearly yanked my arm out of the socket.

Today, however, we were safe. There was no sign of Dougal, and Mrs Hughes’ comically small Smart car wasn’t in her drive.

Phil wasn’t taking any chances.

He hustled me up to the front door and crammed himself onto the doorstep, tucking his tail. I ruffled the windblown orange fluff on top of his big head soothingly, and knocked on the door.

“Coming!” Ray yelled from inside the house.

Phil huffed happily at the sound of his voice, and barged in as soon as Ray opened the door.

“Hi!” Ray said. “Hello, Phil. What a lovely surprise.”

Phil groaned in agreement and sat on Ray’s feet, blocking the entrance.

“Hi, Charlie,” Ray said. “Come on in.”

Unlike some people, I waited for an invitation.

I bent down and scooted Phil off Ray’s feet and to the side. “I didn’t see you at the coffee shop yesterday.”

“No, I had to go over to Milton Keynes for a meeting with Paulina.”

Paulina was Ray’s client and friend. Their meetings usually involved long meals and craft beer at gastropubs, which Paulina would then review on her personal blog.

Whenever they met here, they ate the main course at The Lion, but Ray usually brought her to The Chipped Cup for coffee and a piece of cake. “How’s she doing these days?”

“She’s doing great. I’ll tell her you asked after her.

” He tipped his head towards the kitchen.

“Care to lower your standards and join me for a cup of Nespresso’s finest?

” He ducked down, caught Phil’s jowls and lifted his face.

Phil did his very best to meet Ray’s eyes.

He almost managed. “Phil? Want some water?”

Phil swiped out his tongue. He got Ray square on the lips.

Ray choked and straightened quickly, tugging the sleeve of his jumper over his hand and scrubbing at his mouth.

“When will you learn?” I said.

“You’d think I’d know better by now,” Ray said, and rushed for the kitchen.

I heard water running as Phil and I followed him down the hall, and then Adam saying, “We do have glasses, you know.”

Ray gargled something in reply.

Adam glanced up from where he sat at the kitchen table with his laptop as Phil and I walked in. He looked from Phil to me and then back to Ray. “Which one of them snogged you?”

“Phil. I wouldn’t mind if it was Charlie.”

Adam slid me a look. He was amused, but there was an edge of something very much not amused in his hazel eyes.

“In that case, next time I visit, you’d better pucker up for a proper hello,” I said to Ray.

“Why wait?” Ray faked a big step over towards me, and laughed when Adam slung an arm around his waist and hauled him down onto his lap.

“Adam, let him go,” I said. “I was promised a cup of something adjacent to coffee. And here, Ray.” I held out the small paper bag I’d brought with me from home. “You missed your Friday brownie.”

Ray squirmed free and took the bag. “Thank you!”

“Your customer service is top-notch,” Adam said, and got his hand smacked when he reached out in an attempt to twitch the bag from Ray’s eager grasp. “Bringing it to the door now?”

I shrugged. “They’re yesterday’s. I can’t sell them.”

“Really? You can’t tell,” Ray said through a mouthful. He moaned. “They’re so moist.”

I shrugged again, and avoided Adam’s knowing look.

Ray stuffed the remains of his (first) brownie in his mouth, heaved a sigh before heroically giving one to Adam, and headed over to his shitty little coffee-pod machine. “What are you in the mood for?” he said, rummaging through the small wicker basket full of pods they kept alongside the machine.

A good cup of coffee. I’d make do with Nespresso. “Surprise me.”

After he’d quickly filled the water bowl he kept here for whenever he babysat Phil and set it on the floor, he fussed about making coffee. Adam rattled away at the keyboard of his laptop, and I took myself over to the crockery cupboard, found a plate, and arranged the rest of the brownies on it.

I carried it over to the table and pulled out a chair.

“What’s Kevin up to today?” Adam said, eyes still on his laptop. He tapped another couple of keys decisively, and closed it. “Gym?”

“He got that done at six this morning,” I said, disgruntled. I’d missed out on my Saturday morning snuggling. I was still relatively new to it, and was indignant at the loss. “No, he’s working on the garage. Now that he’s finished reflooring it, he’s started building the shelves.”

Adam laughed. “What are you going to do when he’s run out of things to fix?”

“Start breaking stuff. Unless you’ve got a job for him?”

“I might.”

“Oh?” I’d been joking. Adam and Ray had renovated their house a couple of years ago. “Time to redecorate already? Thinking about another extension?”

“No. I’m in talks with a client who wants me to design and build an earthship on the land he’s rewilding. It’s a big project and they want to hire local. When I get the contract, I’d like to get Kevin in to consult, and probably head up the construction crew. What do you think?”

“Earthship? I mean…he’s amazing and he can do anything he sets his mind to, but I don’t think he’s built a…ship? Before?”

“Don’t be fooled. It’s not a ship. It’s an eco dwelling. Very sustainable. Solar power, recycled materials, blends with the landscape. It’s why I want Kevin. I know he’s into that.”

I stared at him.

“Think Hobbiton,” he clarified. “If the hobbits were hippies.”

“Please get the contract. Kevin would lose his shit if he got to build a hobbit hole.”

“I’ll give him a call, then.”

I frowned at him.

“Or not?” Adam said, lifting a brow.

“No, no. Definitely call him.”

Brows still lifted, Adam gestured at my frown.

“You’ve spoiled my fun. I brought a special present for you as well as brownies for Ray, and now I’m regretting it, because you’re being nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“You can be mean.”

“Only on special occasions,” Adam said. Ray dropped a cup heavily on the counter. Even from behind, I could tell he was blushing. His ears were red.

Adam’s lips hitched in a lazy smile.

“Here you go,” Ray said, setting a coffee in front of me and bustling off to make another, standing patiently while the Nespresso machine pretended to brew it properly.

I opened the messenger bag I’d set on the empty chair beside me and pulled out a stack of old photographs.

Adam’s gaze went to the photos, bounced over to Ray quickly, and then narrowed on my face.

Now it was my turn to smile.

He leaned in and said in a low voice, “Those had better not be?—”

“What are we looking at?” Ray said brightly, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Adam.

“Nothing,” Adam said. “Mind if I have another brownie, babe?” He reached for one.

Ray quickly slid the plate out of range. “You don’t even like brownies that much.”

He was successfully distracted. Adam returned his focus to me. He looked at me levelly for a long moment, then rolled his eyes. “Give them here.”

I tapped the thick stack of photos on the tabletop like a deck of cards and passed them to him. “Kevin found my old photo albums.”

“You’re supposed to keep shit like that out of the sight of men you’re trying to impress, Charlie. Don’t you know anything?”

“They were out of sight, until Kevin got a hard-on for my garage.”

I’d given in and gone through the albums and loose photos when he was at work one day. Seeing my uncertain, closed-off, teenaged face had left me feeling oddly tender towards that boy I could hardly remember being. It was half a lifetime ago, after all.

That Charlie Galloway had thought it was only a matter of time until he’d be out of Chipping Fairford and living life.

He’d thought he’d find love any minute now. He’d thought he’d have adventures. Do something important.

He had no idea.

No clue that he’d have to wait almost his entire life all over again before he reached the happiness that he was sure was right around the corner.

It took a lot longer than a minute, but in the end, I did find love.

I’d had an adventure. Okay, I never expected it to include dead bodies, but I did have one.

And I did something important. Every day, I made a difference to the people of Chipping Fairford. It was a small difference, but it mattered.

Although my life had worked out beyond teenage Charlie’s wildest dreams and I wouldn’t change a thing, the sight of that Charlie would always, I thought, make me melancholy.

And the sight of Adam and Jasper rioting in the background of my past would always make me laugh.

Adam glanced down at the first photo in the stack, his expression blank.

Ray leaned in, shoulder to shoulder with Adam. “What are these? Old modelling photos? Or are they—huh.” He pressed his lips together and bit back his smile. He was less successful at holding back the surprised snort of laughter.

Adam pinned me with a look. “I’m getting you back for this,” he said.

For all his poise and—for lack of a better word—cool, it suddenly hit me that even someone as grounded and together as Adam might not necessarily want to have his past sprung upon him without warning like this.

He’d been loud and obnoxious and fierce as a little baby gay, but?—

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Adam said.

“Sorry, I didn’t think…let me take them back and?—”

Adam stretched out a leg and gave my chair a gentle kick. “It’s fine.” His smile lit his hazel eyes. “But you’ve got to give me copies.”

“Yes! Copies!” Ray said loudly, flipping through. “Oh. Look at this. Emo Adam. So much eyeliner.”

“No need for copies,” I said. “Have the originals.”

“You don’t want to keep them?”

I didn’t hesitate. I shook my head.

“In that case, thanks,” Adam said.

Ray was still going through the photos. “You. Are. Precious. Wait, is that Liam?”

“You have pictures of Liam?” Adam demanded, leaning over to look at the photo Ray was squinting at. “Why?”

“The Chipped Cup catered the tea for his wedding,” I reminded him. The photos were of the table settings and the cake, but a twenty-something Liam and his now-ex-wife, Verity, were visible in the background.

Amalie had been in charge of our dad’s camera, and she’d been taking photos for the parents to use for marketing. Once she’d dutifully taken them, she’d run off with the camera—hence the number of Adam, Jasper, and other young locals, more than half of whom were long gone from Chipping Fairford.

Mostly of Adam, though. By that point, he was eighteen and shockingly beautiful.

Ray gave me a weird look. He’d obviously made it past the cake photos and hit the thirsty Adam photos.

They were close-ups of Adam’s beautifully shaped lips, and his equally beautiful arse.

He’d worn a navy three-piece suit and white shirt that set his copper-gold hair on fire.

He’d dumped the tie and the jacket and rolled his sleeves up.

There had been a fair few snaps of his strong wrists and forearms.

Knowing Adam back then, he’d flexed and posed for them.

“Amalie took those,” I told Ray.

“Have you shown them to Jasper?” Adam said suddenly.

I shook my head. “No. I thought…I thought maybe not?” Jasper hadn’t been happier than I had been back then. I didn’t think he’d appreciate the reminder, either. “I thought I’d let you have them first. If you think there are any he might like, you could pick them out.”

“Good idea.” He shuffled through the stack and held up a photo of fourteen-year-old Jasper, who was still scrawny at that age, all knees and eyeballs, with a real situation of a hairstyle happening on his little pinhead. Adam’s amusement faded. “I won’t show him the wedding ones.”

“Why not?” Ray said. “I liked those. He looks very dapper in his little suit.”

“It wasn’t a great time for Jas,” Adam said.

“Oh? Ohhhh. Right. Liam married a woman right in front of his face. That would sting. Poor Jasper. It all worked out in the end, though, didn’t it?”

It really did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these, Charlie?” Ray asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Not a nostalgic man?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…better with Kevin. Everything is. You know?”

“Yeah,” Ray said. “I know.”

Adam reached for a brownie, Ray smacked his hand and got yanked off his chair and onto Adam’s lap again for his trouble, and my phone dinged.

“That’ll be Kevin,” I said, knocking back my coffee and getting to my feet. “Come on, Phil. Let’s go home.”