Epilogue #2
“You old sweet talker you.” I look over and grin at Reuben, who is swinging lazily in the hammock.
He’s wearing an old pair of swimming shorts that have faded to a pale blue, and he’s tanned a dark golden colour.
His dark hair is loose, and he wears an old Panama hat pulled low over his face.
“You okay there? Have you moved since I left this morning?”
He removes the hat and gives me a slow smile, his teeth white in his tanned face. “I’m becoming lazy.”
“Why the becoming? You attained that state last month. I’ve seen limes move at a faster pace than you.”
“I’m sure you have if they’re making their way into Pip’s tequila glass.”
“So many little fruits sacrificed for the greater good.”
He laughs and lifts his arm. “Come and lie down. You look tired.”
I pad over, stripping off my T-shirt that advertises the tattoo shop and dropping it on a lounger. The pool gleams azure-blue, its surface ruffled with small waves from the gentle breeze. Being high up, the villa benefits from the winds that blow off the sea.
His eyes track my body, and the familiar gleam twinkles. I’m sure it matches mine when I look at him.
I stop by the hammock. “Any room at the inn?”
“Provided you haven’t got a holy baby with you, yes.”
I pat the pockets of my cut-offs. “Not on me, no. I must have left him behind somewhere.”
“How careless of you. Hop in then.”
I lower myself carefully into the hammock until I’m resting on top of him. He’s sun hot underneath me and smells of sun cream. “Well, hello,” I drawl, looking down into his grey eyes. They’re bright with the ever-present love. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He drags me down into a kiss, which is escalating nicely until Bernard attempts to climb in with us.
“No,” Reuben says. “Oh no, you stupid dog.”
Bernard’s mouth stretches wide in a doggy grin and he redoubles his attempts to climb aboard. We both shout as the hammock sways wildly and promptly dumps us on the grass.
“Silly boy,” Reuben says. “Ouch, Xavi. That’s my fucking throat.”
“Sorry. I was aiming for your jawbone.”
He laughs, but it turns to a low moan as I kiss him. When I pull back, we’re flushed and panting.
“Where’s Olivier?” I ask, my hand already in his shorts and moving towards his cock.
He grabs my hand, and I pout as he pushes it away. “He’s upstairs.”
I pout. “Cock-blocking villa guests.”
“Oh dear, I haven’t noticed you being particularly restrained. You shouted so loud last night, I thought we’d have the neighbour round.”
“That would have been lovely. We could have had another of her lectures on keeping the pool tidy and villa etiquette.” He laughs. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be so good at sex, and then I wouldn’t have to be so loud.”
“I am the sex master.”
“Come on, master. Let’s get back in the hammock.”
I toss the ball to Bernard, and while he’s occupied, we climb back into the hammock, settling with me half on top of him. We lie quietly for a while, listening to the lapping of the pool water and the distant sound of music coming from the house. It’s French and has a sweet, sexy vibe.
“I like it here,” I finally say, and he hums in agreement, his finger twirling a strand of my hair.
“Me too.”
“How was Frederik?” I ask, coming up on my elbow and looking into his face.
I love this face above all others, and I run my fingers over his sharp cheekbones.
There are a few more lines around those pretty eyes and a strand or two of grey in his black hair.
He grumbles about them, but I love them.
They’re from laughter, and I don’t want him to ever stop doing that.
He laughs more easily now, the sound familiar around our home.
He shrugs. “It was fine.”
Frederik is his therapist. Reuben had a bit of a trial-and-error process with therapists at first, but then I’d heard of Frederik through someone at the shop.
He’d been a rockstar in Germany in the nineties and had retrained as a therapist. He’d met Reuben, and they’d hit it off immediately.
Their sessions seem to be structured around smoking and listening to vinyl, but it suits Reuben.
After his first several visits, the nightmares increased, but I’m well versed in how to help him with those.
I’ve noticed they’ve tailed off over the last few months, but I haven’t said anything.
When he wants to talk, he will, and I know it’ll be to me.
He’s my best friend, and I’m his. A friendship like ours is something I never considered before, having no experience of long-term relationships, but I treasure it more and more every day.
I want to share everything with him. I love to talk late at night, tucked in bed and in the early hours of the morning when we’re sleep-hoarse, and dawn tinges the room a gentle pink.
“Rhys asked me to be his business partner,” I say.
He runs his hand through my hair, his face absorbed. “I thought he would.”
“You did?”
He boops my nose. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’re an amazing tattoo artist, and you know it.”
I shrug. “I’m very green though.”
“Talent doesn’t know a time schedule. You’re very good, and you’ll get even better.
You’re also a good businessman, and I know you’ve got lots of ideas about what to do with the business.
” He pats my shoulder. “I’m just glad I got a genuine Xavier Conway before he gets too famous and his prices go up. ”
I smile at the tattooed thistle on his tanned skin and press a kiss to it.
It’s for Scotland, which will always be a part of him, no matter where we roam in the world, but he says it also represents me because I’m pretty and prickly.
That had been quite a night. I’d tattooed him while the shop was closed, and we’d certainly put that chair to some action it doesn’t usually see.
He’d been less enamoured by having to clean it thoroughly afterwards.
My mouth quirks at the memory, and when I look up, his eyes are gleaming. “You certainly had a different sort of tattoo experience than the norm,” I tell him.
“I’d better have done.”
The flare of jealousy is humorous, but there’s a truth under it. Reuben is possessive. He doesn’t mind me flirting, but he hates any man getting too close. I love it. It makes me feel like I belong to him.
I stroke my finger down his sharp blade of a nose. “What do you think?”
He considers me. “How would it work?”
“I’m not sure. Rhys said it would be handling the management side as well as tattooing. I don’t want to give up splitting our time between Ibiza and Mull. I like it that way.”
He smiles. “Tell him that, then. He wants you for it. Name your terms.”
“Have I even got those? Surely, I haven’t been doing it long enough.”
“Xavi, the shop is so full of models it’s like a Durand outpost. You bring in a lot of bodies.”
“Makes me sound like Burke and Hare.”
“You’re glamorous and not bad on the eye.”
“Not bad?” I say, trying for outraged but spoiling it with a snort.
He grins, his eyes wicked. “Well, you’re quite homely, but you scrub up well with a bit of time and effort.”
“Thank you.” I lower my head to his chest, and we sway for a while. “I’ll tell him tonight,” I decide.
“Ah, yes, tonight. Tell me—how many people have you invited for dinner?”
“Erm.” I bite my lip to hide a smile. “A few.”
“And are you going to cater for this event yourself?”
“Probably best not to. Most of them don’t want food poisoning.”
“I’m tempted to divert the conversation to who would want it, but I’m avoiding asking.”
“Probably best.” I poke him. “You can cook. Earn your keep, pretty baby.”
He laughs. “I like being a kept man. I think we should continue it.”
“I might trade you in for a more amenable man.”
He rolls his eyes. “They won’t stay amenable for long.” Bernard brings his ball over. “Well?” Reuben prompts the dog, but he just pants around the ball.
I laugh. “He wants you to throw it for him.”
“But first, I have to wrestle him to get it off him? How have I ended up with such a ridiculous creature? He’s your soul mate.”
“You lucky man.”
He manages to get the ball out of Bernard’s jaws and throws it into the pool. The dog looks faintly betrayed by this manoeuvre, but then belly flops into the water and paddles happily around.
“I am,” he says.
“You are what?”
“Lucky.”
I smile and stretch up, trying to keep still while we kiss. The hammock sways alarmingly, but we stay put.
“I’m lucky too,” I tell him when our lips separate. “I love you.”
He pinches my cheek. “Love you too. So, we should think about buying this place, don’t you think?”
“Just like that?”
“You love it here, don’t you?”
“I do. I love everything about the villa.”
“Well, let’s do it then.”
“We can do that?”
“I got an offer on the South of France house.”
“Really? And you’d take it?” The house was his godmother’s, and she left it to Reuben.
“I’ll be sad to see it go, but it’s full of ghosts, Xavi, and we’re not about that anymore.”
I kiss him. “No, we’re really not,” I say softly.
“Besides, the house needs to be lived in. It needs loud voices and laughter, and we’re not there much now.”
“I don’t want you to sell a house to buy this place. That’s wrong.”
“Will it make you happy to live here?”
“Of course.”
“Then yes, we’ll do it. I happen to like you happy.”
“Well, pat yourself on the back because you’re the cause of most of it.” I eye him. “It can’t just be for me. I’m not having that.”
He drops a kiss on my temple, nosing in amongst the waves. “It would be for me too. I like it here. I love the island, and I think we’re building a life here.”
I shake my head as excitement stirs. “We can really do it.”
He nods. “I heard the owner is thinking of selling, and he’d be happy if we’re the ones to buy it.”
“I’m sure he would be happy. Otherwise, he might lose his pétanque partner.
” I often find Reuben in the village drinking pastis and playing pétanque with the local men.
It seems loosely connected to bowls, but that’s as much as I’ve picked up about the game.
I look around. “We’ll have to extend the kitchen. ”
He laughs. “Good job I just signed a new book contract then.”
I sit too quickly, and he groans as we’re once more jettisoned out of the hammock. Bernard thinks this is a wonderful game and climbs out of the pool to shake himself over us while I laugh and Reuben curses.
Eventually, he manages to send him to fetch his ball again, and I scramble onto Reuben’s lap, straddling him and pinning his hands to the ground.
“Xavier, what is happening?” He’s laughing so hard that it’s difficult to understand his words. “I’m not that sort of boy.”
I pinch his nipple. “You are exactly that sort of boy.” As he laughs, I demand, “What book have you sold?”
He winks at me. “A tattoo photography book.”
My mouth drops open. “That is a fucking epic idea.”
“I do have a few,” he says modestly.
“Probably less than you think.”
“So, want to be my muse?”
“Would I have to be naked?”
“I’m afraid I would insist on it.”
He laughs up at me, and I stare at his face. I love him so much it makes my belly ache. He’s worth every minute of the angst and tears of heartbreak. “I would do it all over and over again,” I say softly. “Just to have you here like this.”
His face sobers and then blazes with so much love. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
“We can travel and work and play together.”
“Always. That’s the way it is for us. You and me always.”
“You, me, and a green vegetable included in every meal.”
“Don’t push your luck, Xavier.” He cups my face in his big hands as I laugh. “Even with the addition of obscure vegetables—”
“I’m pretty sure broccoli is well known. It’s the rock star of the vegetable world.”
“—even with that,” he says loudly over me. “I happen to love our second shot.”
My smile is far too wide, but I don’t care. He sees all of me, and I let him because he does the same for me. “Me too, Roo. It’s the best.”