Chapter 18 #2
I grab my chain from the bedside table and slide it over my head.
The links hit my chest, the wedding ring hanging on it a sweet, familiar weight.
I don’t wear it on my hand—that would be ridiculous.
But I’ve never managed to put it away. I’d tried to shove it in a drawer once, but I couldn’t, and I’d ended up buying a chain for it instead.
I head to the shower to wash the come off my belly. When I come out of the bedroom dressed and ready for the day, I can hear the radio before I even get to the top of the stairs. It’s hardly surprising. Xavi rarely listens to anything at a normal decibel level.
In the kitchen, Bernard bounds over for a pat. He’s very endearing, with an irrepressible spirit and a sweet nature.
“Is this breakfast or a rave?” I say, trying for grumpy but failing miserably. One look at me and Xavier will know how happy I am to have him here, giant dog and loud music included.
He’s at the counter putting something in bowls. “Just in time for breakfast,” he says with a wicked look on his sharp face.
I stop warily. “Are there chia seeds in it? You put them in everything.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes. Because they’re good for you. This time they’re in the overnight breakfast oats.”
“Shouldn’t oats be served hot with golden syrup?”
“Your arteries beg to differ.”
“My arteries used to be happy.” He sets the bowl in front of me. “Oh my god, there’s fruit on this. Can this day get any worse?”
“Yes,” he says in a dangerous voice. “It really can.”
I fight the twitch of my mouth and eat a spoonful. “It’s nice,” I say in surprise.
“Can you say that a bit louder?”
“You wouldn’t hear me over the music anyway.”
He laughs and settles himself on the stool next to me, his long legs wrapping around the rungs.
This close, I can smell damp skin, shampoo, and cologne.
It’s a warm, sexy smell. I sneak a glance at him.
His hair is wet and combed back neatly from his pretty face.
When it dries, it will be a wild mass of waves—his hair imitating his nature.
His skin is a lovely, clear olive, and his long body looks gorgeous in those faded jeans that cling to his arse.
I want to pound my chest when I see he’s pinched my black cashmere jumper to wear again.
It satisfies some silly caveman impulse in me to see him wearing my clothes.
They’re too big for him, but where someone else would look ridiculous, it just draws attention to the long, thin lines of his body and makes him look carelessly fashionable.
“Still want to go to Iona with me?” I ask, mentally crossing my fingers.
“Yeah, of course.” He frowns. “Will Bernard be okay on the ferry?”
We both look at Bernard, who was attempting to eat one of Xavier’s very expensive trainers, but immediately drops it and assumes an innocent expression.
“Surely the question should be if the ferry is ready for him.”
He looks anxious which I find unbearably endearing. “I mean, won’t he fall through the railings? What if he gets sick?”
“Unlikely. I don’t think dogs get seasick. And have you seen the size of your baby? It would be like trying to shove an aeroplane through a letterbox.”
“You’re so over the top.” He stands up. “I’ll just grab my jacket and sunglasses.”
I sit back on the stool. “Oh my. Which ones are you going to pick? I’m pretty sure we had thirty pairs delivered this week alone.”
“I’ve told you that fashion designers and stylists think it’s very important that my beauty is adorned properly. I wish you’d keep up.”
“I’ll try.”
I quickly do the dishes. Even making breakfast oats, he creates more mess than if he’d been making a three-course meal.
Once I’ve done, I grab my own jacket and an old pair of Ray-Bans and meet him at the door as he clips Bernard into his harness.
He looks up. “Where do we get the ferry? In Tobermory?”
“No, we have to go to the southernmost tip of the island to Fionnphort. It’s an hour and a half’s drive.”
“Bagsy I pick the music.”
I groan. “Really?”
“Yes. I think I age every time I put one of your fucking songs on.”
Bickering happily, we shut the door behind us.
Xavier stretches and resumes leaning on the rail of the ferry as it approaches Iona. The sun is very bright, bouncing off the water, and I readjust my sunglasses on my nose. “So, that’s Iona?” he says. “Do you visit often?”
I take a last sip of my coffee and wish I’d bought a larger cup. “Yep. It has a very tranquil atmosphere. Something Mull is drastically lacking lately.”
He chuckles, and I refrain from telling him that Grey lives on Iona.
I’d checked very thoroughly with friends before I asked Xavier to come with me.
Grey’s away on a business trip, so we’re safe from that particular little collision.
I shudder at the thought. Religious men used to come here to isolate themselves and be closer to God.
If Xavier meets Grey again, I won’t need the island to reach heaven. Xavi will send me there himself.
The ferryman passes us on his way below deck. “Alright, Reuben?” he says.
I nod. “Can’t complain, Amos. This is Xavier.”
He looks curiously at Xavier but settles for a congenial nod before turning back to me. “Try and make sure you’re on the last ferry this time, eh.”
“Oh, fuck off. It was one time,” I grumble.
He chuckles. “Keep an eye on him,” he advises Xavier. “There’s no ferry after half past four. You miss it, you’ll be sleeping here.”
“I’ll do my best,” Xavier replies. He looks very glamorous in the sunshine with his model looks.
Several passengers have been sneaking glances at him, whether it’s because they’ve recognised him or are just admiring his pretty face and long, lean body.
“But I don’t hold out much hope, because Reuben’s about as biddable as a fucking goat. ”
Amos laughs and heads down the steps. I sneak another look at Xavier. Watching him has become a very pleasurable hobby now. “Missing your best mate?” I say, tongue in cheek.
He lowers his sunglasses. “Who?”
“Tall, tattooed, grumpier than Rumpelstiltskin. Rhys.”
“Ah. He’s off the island today.”
“Oh, so that’s why I’ve got you.” I put a hand to my forehead dramatically. “Second place again. Curse you, fickle fate.”
Xavier has been back to that shop every day since he met Rhys.
He spends hours down there helping Rhys with the renovation and talking about tattoos.
I knew he had ink, but I didn’t foresee him being so fascinated with the art of tattooing.
That was foolish because who knows better than me how much he loves art?
His eyes are twinkling. “Oh, dear. Are you jealous?”
I snort. “Absolutely not. He couldn’t cope with you.”
“Well, I am very extra. Thank you, Reuben.”
“That’s one word for it. The wrong one.” I eye him. “You like being there, don’t you?”
He nods enthusiastically. “It’s fascinating. Rhys let me tattoo him again yesterday.”
“How could you possibly have found a blank spot on him?”
He laughs, and I watch him in pleasure. Gone now is the sullen boy who’d flitted in and out of my life, and in his place is a man who is both strange and poignantly familiar.
Flashes of the sunshiny boy I’d known so many years ago mingle with a confident, chilled man who makes my dick hard and my brain soft.
“What did you draw for him?” I ask and watch with interest and some amusement as he rifles through his pockets and produces various objects—cigarettes and a lighter, an old key, a multitude of receipts, and finally a pencil and notebook.
I’m amused to see the Hermès logo and how grubby and dog-eared it is.
I somehow think the company didn’t intend the book to actually be used.
“This,” he says, sketching in quick, sure movements. I smile in pleasure and delight when I see the mermaid. She looks both cocky and wild with long red hair. The talent behind the drawing is very evident.
“That’s amazing.”
His face is full of startled pleasure, his eyes wide. “You really like it?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” I trace the lines gently. “You’re good at this.”
He immediately pastes a disinterested look on his face. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
He directs a quick look at me. “Rhys said I could do it professionally.”
I straighten up, my interest sharp now. “Did he? What do you think of that?”
He shrugs, putting the notepad and pencil back in his pocket. “He mentioned an apprenticeship.”
I whistle. “Wow! That’s a huge honour. He doesn’t take them on anymore. Would you do it?”
I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.
This has been on my mind a lot since he started getting better.
I can’t bear the idea of him going back to modelling.
It doesn’t suit someone as sensitive as Xavier, and the attention isn’t good for him.
I also don’t think he has any interest in fame and glamour.
But I can’t tell him what to do. He’s a grown man, and the decisions he takes are his own.
He hesitates. “It would take a few years, and the money isn’t good.”
“I saw your bank balance, Xavier, and I know you’re doing okay for yourself.” I wink at him. “If you run low on money, just hock some of the designer shit you’ve been given this month.”
He laughs, and I lick my lips, unsure if I should say what I’m thinking. Fuck it.
I say, “If that is what you want to do, I’d fund it.”
His mouth drops open. “What?”
I paste on a casual look, but I know he isn’t fooled for a second. “You’ve always been very important to me. I want to see you happy.” Left unsaid is what isn’t making him happy.
The silence lasts for a few beats, and then I freeze as he lowers his head to my shoulder. I break my stasis immediately, and my arm comes up to cradle him to me. My grip is probably too tight, but I can’t help that. I want to hold him so close that he’ll never leave me.
“Thank you, Roo,” he says softly.
I swallow hard. “You’re very welcome, Xavi.”