Chapter 10
. . .
Reuben
When I get to the breakfast room the next morning, Jez is waiting. He’s sitting at the table, reading a newspaper and looking relaxed. I wish I was in the same state. I’m still reeling at what Xavier let slip about Jez last night.
I pause by a nearby pillar and look properly at my friend instead of just superimposing the face of the boy I knew and loved so much over the face of the man he’s become.
And now I can see the signs of dissipation—the slightly swollen face, the red tinge to his skin.
Both show he’s drinking heavily again. Maybe he isn’t as unscathed by our job as I first thought.
The realisation should make me gentle, but I’m too angry at his behaviour.
He glances up. “You’re late,” he says.
I shrug and move towards him. “I didn’t know you owned my alarm clock.”
I can’t help the aggression in my voice and take a breath to try to rein it in. It’s too late, though, because he knows me very well.
“Whoa. Who pissed in your cornflakes?”
“Nobody.” I look up at the waitress who’s arrived at the table. “Coffee, please.” She nods and walks away,
Jez huffs. “Where the hell is Xavier?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, because he’d left my bed sometime in the night.
I’d woken from another hideous dream, barely managing to keep my scream in.
I’d reached for him and found cold sheets and empty arms, and even though I know it was the right thing to do, I’d felt oddly chagrined.
Now I feel like my skin is crawling, as if that nightmare has left grit all over my body.
Combined with the rage over what I found out last night, I might be on the rare verge of losing my temper.
“Maybe if you were nice to him, you’d actually know yourself. ”
He rolls his eyes. “Please don’t start this again. You’ve seen how irritating he is.”
“He’s not irritating,” I snap. His eyes widen, and I take a breath to calm down. “He’s funny and clever. Very like you, actually.”
“He’s nothing like me.”
“He actually is, and that’s what’s winding you up.” I stare at him. “Well, that and a guilty conscience.”
He jerks. “What the fuck does that mean?” he says far too loudly, and a family nearby offers him glares. I smile apologetically at them and then turn back to my friend. My best friend.
“When did you find out you had a son?” I ask.
He runs his finger along his collar and gives a nervous laugh. “What the hell? You already know the answer to that.”
“Do I? I actually don’t think I do. When, Jez?” My voice is chilly and cold, and he shifts uneasily. He hates it when I’m angry with him, so this must be excruciating because I’m not just angry. I’m fucking furious.
“Well—”
I hold up a finger. “Don’t lie,” I snap.
He shifts, and I shake my head. “Oh my god,” I say softly.
I spent a lot of hours last night wondering if Xavier had got it wrong somehow, but looking at Jez now, I know he didn’t.
My rage grows at the thought of a small baby left alone, reliant on the good graces of adults, none of whom wanted him.
It breaks my heart. “You knew all along.”
“Where did you get that from?” It’s weak, and he knows it. I wait for the aggression to spring up. It’s always there when he’s cornered. On cue, his mouth tightens. “That little shit,” he spits.
“Your son?” I say incredulously. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
“Fucking relax. He’s been stirring the shit, then. I’ll have to say thank you.”
“You’ll do no such thing. He didn’t say a word,” I lie. My voice is like ice.
“Then how did you know? Who told you?”
I stare at him. “You just did.”
He maintains his glare for a second and then sags. “Shit,” he whispers.
I lean forward over the table. “You knew all along and did what?” He doesn’t say anything. “You did nothing,” I hiss. “You know how I feel about things like this. Your own child, Jez, and you left him to the mercy of fate.”
“He’s not Perseus.”
“Oh, and you somehow think humour should be the right option in this conversation.” He sighs, and I carry on. “Thank god his grandparents were there and did the right thing.”
He looks up with stormy eyes. “So he did say something.”
“No, he didn’t. It’s obvious they stepped up because they’ve reared him with no financial and emotional support from you.” I shake my head. “I’m so disappointed in you.”
A look of devastation crosses his face, and then he shoots out his hand to stop me as I go to stand up. “Wait. I’m sorry.”
“You’re apologising to me?”
“Well, you’re more important to me than him.”
I stare at him. “And that’s just wrong, Jez. What the hell is the matter with you? Your priorities are completely screwed lately.”
“You’re my friend. I don’t like you being mad at me.”
“What about your son?” I hold up a hand. “Don’t say something shitty,” I warn him. “I’ve had just about as much as I can take with you this morning.”
“No. Wait, I—”
“Good morning,” a husky voice says.
We both jerk our chins and find Xavier is standing by our table.
We were so involved in our argument that we didn’t notice his approach.
He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt advertising some garage.
It’s torn at the neck, offering a glimpse of his clavicle.
His hair is wet and swept back off his forehead, drawing attention to his beautiful face and razor-sharp cheekbones.
He looks real and so utterly gorgeous that my breath catches.
His eyebrows rise. “Or not a good morning,” he offers.
Jez opens his mouth, and I give Xavier a strained smile. “Would you mind giving us a couple of minutes?”
He examines my face and then looks at Jez. Then he simply nods. “Okay, I’ll be loitering at the buffet.” He sets off, and I drag my attention away from the beautiful line of his back.
I turn to Jez. “Here is what is going to happen,” I say in a fierce whisper.
“You are going to try with that boy. You are going to show him the nice side of you, which so far has been hidden deeper than leprechaun gold. You are going to give him a nice experience of a father who, to be frank, has been irredeemably shitty so far.”
“Okay,” he hisses. He rubs his hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry.” I raise my eyebrows, and he nods. “I’ll say it to him. I hate that you think badly of me.”
Still with this same old tune. I think of stressing again who’s actually important in this scenario and dismiss it. If he’s nice to Xavier, does it matter how it happened?
I stand up. “Where are you going?” he asks anxiously.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to get some breakfast. Spend the time thinking of something that Xavier might want to do rather than an outing you’ve read in an Enid Blyton book at some point in your life.”
“How am I supposed to be doing that?” he asks, panicked.
“He’s artistic and dreamy and incurably curious. Start with that.” A funny look crosses his face as he looks at me. “What’s the matter now?”
“N-Nothing,” he stammers. “You just seem to know him very well.”
“That’s because I listen to him.”
He looks beyond me at something. “Go and get your breakfast.”
I shake my head and move away to the buffet station. Xavier is standing by the omelette section, his plate in hand. He’s being admired by a cluster of teenage girls, but seems unaware of the fact, his attention all on me.
“Am I okay to come over there?” he calls. “Or shall I just stay in the egg equivalent of Siberia?”
I try to stop my smile, but I’m not entirely successful. “It’s safe now.”
He stays at my side after I walk over and order a tomato and feta omelette from the woman behind the counter.
“You looked like you were having a proper row,” he says, unable to hide the relish in his voice. I shoot him a chiding look, and he rolls his eyes. “What? Please don’t make me become a decent person. I’ll get terribly boring.”
I can’t help but laugh. It’s too loud, and I see heads turn nearby. I sober. “I had words about what I found out last night.”
He looks confused. “What was that? You found out a lot of things.”
I stare at him. “Like what?”
He leans closer. “Like the fact that my arse is tight and strangles your dick.”
I choke on my own spit, coughing and immediately looking around, but the people nearby are intent on getting their breakfast.
“Shush,” I say reprovingly. I take the plate the lady hands me with a smile of thanks and turn to go, swallowing as Xavier doesn’t move, and my body rubs against his.
My cock twitches, and I count down from twenty and then try to leave again.
I stop as he takes my free hand. We’re hidden by the counter, but it’s a dangerous move.
“Xavier,” I warn him.
He smiles and squeezes my hand before releasing it. “I know it was something to do with me.”
“Well, that’s not even remotely self-centred.”
He laughs and then sobers. “Thank you for whatever it was.”
I stare at him. “Just like that?”
He nods solemnly. “I know that you have my back and that’s rather rare.”
A wave of powerful guilt washes over me. What the hell am I doing?
This is my best friend’s son, and I’ve fucked him behind Jez’s back.
I’ve lied to someone I care for more than anyone in my life.
Someone who was always there for me. And what am I doing to Xavier?
He’s too young for me, and I’m scared by the glimpses of vulnerability he’s showing me.
In no way am I suitable to be anyone’s hero.
I’m so far beyond that it’s a joke. The first time I was with him I knew it was probably a mistake, but I thought he was sexually confident and happy for a shag, and so we’d burn some energy together and then go on our separate ways.
Everything’s changed now, of course. No one can say that me being close to him isn’t a serious, deliberate, dangerous choice.
“That makes me sad for you,” I say softly.
He winks, his seriousness falling away like petals from a flower at the end of the summer. “Of course, I like it best when you have me on my back.”
I shake my head. “Pack it in.”