Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Owen stepped outside into the sunlight and spied an empty table beside the railing. Beyond it flowed the sparkling waters of the River Itchen. Most of the tables were occupied, people enjoying a drink or a meal in the warm afternoon.
From the street, The Bishop on the Bridge seemed like your average red-bricked pub. Inside, the central stone-covered chimney surrounded by tables on a heavily varnished wooden floor was a delightful surprise. Discovering seating outside was an unexpected bonus.
Owen sat, peering at the river as it flowed towards the bridge where the main road crossed it.
I could really get to like retirement.
He’d gone into Winchester to visit his solicitor, followed by a trip to the bank. That had turned to a leisurely wander around the city, getting his bearings.
It also reminded him of Matt.
He’d love this place.
Winchester was steeped in history. The cathedral. Wolvesey Castle. The old streets. The Morley Library. Every corner seemed to have another story attached to it.
Owen smiled into his pint.
I wonder how many of them he already knows. I should ask him.
Then he remembered Matt had grown up here.
He could probably spend an entire afternoon telling me about this city.
That sounded like time well spent.
What fascinated Owen wasn’t Matt’s knowledge, but his enthusiasm.
I bet I could mention any one of these places and Matt wouldn’t start reeling off dates. He’d talk about the people who’d lived there, the choices they’d made, the lives they’d changed.
Somehow Matt made history feel current.
A young man dressed in black appeared with Owen’s prawn sandwich, and Owen thanked him. He leaned back in his chair. This was bliss. No rush, no meetings, no deadlines, nothing but lunch and people-watching. There’d be plenty of time in the coming days and weeks for sorting out the house.
Funny how quickly a stranger could make a new house feel less empty.
He chuckled to himself. I could get used to having an expert on hand to stop me buying resin squirrels.
From behind him came a deep, somehow familiar rumble of laughter.
“No, we are not building a golf course.” The speaker was American.
“I’m only talking nine holes.” The second voice was unmistakably British.
Another laugh. “Nobody needs nine holes.”
“Golfers do.”
“Then golfers are weird. And don’t think I didn’t see you checking out the guy in the lounge after.”
“Oh, come on. He was gorgeous.”
Their voices struck a chord in Owen’s mind.
“Adam, for the last time, you can’t go around handing out Second Bite business cards. One of these days you’re gonna get us arrested.”
Adam…. And that accent…
Owen froze.
No.
It couldn’t be…
He turned around, and came face to face with two men.
They hadn’t changed much in twelve years: Adam was as bald as ever, his dark beard streaked with more silver, and Gray’s sun-bleached waves were still unruly, only now there were a mix of blond and silver, his beard lighter than Owen remembered it.
Oh my God.
Adam looked up, and Owen saw the moment recognition hit. His jaw dropped, his eyes wide.
“No bloody way.” He nudged Gray, who gave Owen a cursory glance that went instantly from polite curiosity to obvious disbelief.
“Owen?” Gray lurched to his feet, grinning, his arms wide. Adam wasn’t far behind him.
Owen rose and hugged Gray. “You’re the last people I expected to see here,” he murmured, Gray’s rough cheek pressed to his.
“Hey, my turn.” Adam gave Gray a gentle shove before grabbing Owen, his burly chest as wide as Owen remembered it. “Holy fuck.”
Owen gestured to his table. “Join me?”
Adam laughed. “Try and stop us.” They took the empty seats facing Owen, and everyone sat. “Wow. This is unreal.”
“What are you guys doing here? Are you on holiday?” The last time Owen had seen them had been in Palm Springs.
Gray’s deep laughter rumbled again. “We live here. Well, not in Winchester—in Andover, about thirty minutes away.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Cyn had nailed it. Owen needed to buy a lottery ticket, like, yesterday. “Since when?”
“We moved over to the UK last March,” Adam added.
“Yeah, as soon as November ’24 happened, the writing was on the wall.” Gray’s face tightened.
It took Owen a second or two to work out what that meant.
“We’ve got a place with enough land that I’m wondering about putting in a little golf course,” Adam told him.
Gray snorted. “He means a huge golf course.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Nine holes, babe.”
Another snort. “Nine unnecessary holes.”
Owen laughed. “You always were an optimist.”
“Adam’s trying to get me to take up golf. He says I need a hobby. Like I don’t have enough on my plate.”
“Do you have jobs?”
Gray nodded. “I’m a paramedic. I work out of a hospital in Basingstoke.”
Owen grinned. “And are you both still making films?”
Adam grinned back. “Someone has to.”
It was Gray’s turn to roll his eyes. “I just rescue people. He corrupts them.”
Adam’s eyes sparkled. “And they’re educational films, if you don’t mind.”
Gray smirked. “Sure they are. We teach people about anatomy.”
“I still say we could’ve made you and Ben stars.” Adam sighed dramatically. “I even had stage names picked out.”
The familiar ache stirred in Owen’s chest, and for a heartbeat, grief tightened its grip. “I remember you saying that. We never asked what they were.”
“And I’ll never tell.” Adam’s grin was infectious.
Gray chuckled. “Trust me. That’s for the best.”
All three of them laughed.
“Where’s Ben?” Gray glanced around the terrace. “Is he joining you?”
Twelve years disappeared. So did every easy answer.
He took a deep breath. “Ben died.”
Adam froze, mouth open. Gray reached across the table and took Owen’s hand. “Oh, Owen.” His voice quavered with genuine shock.
“We had no idea,” Adam said in a low voice.
“Why would you? The only time we spent together was those two weeks when… when Ben and I were on our honeymoon.” A gay clothing-optional resort in Palm Springs, where a chance encounter had turned two strangers into friends.
“When did he pass?” Gray asked.
“2020. We had six years together.” Owen managed a smile. “They were six wonderful years.”
Until the end, at least.
“And now you live around here?”
Owen saw Gray’s question for what it was, a gentle change of subject, and he was grateful.
“Yeah, I have a house, less than twenty minutes’ drive from here.
” Then he brightened. “I’ve only just moved in, and I’ll be having a housewarming party.
You two should come.” He grinned. “Trust me. You won’t want to miss it. ”
“We’d love to.” Adam fished his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, then handed it to Owen. “Put your contact details in there. I’ll send you a text.” His gaze met Owen’s. “I’d like it if we stayed in touch.”
Owen nodded. “Me too.” He entered his phone number. As he handed the phone back, Owen noticed the thick wedding band on Adam’s finger. A glance at Gray revealed an identical ring.
“Wait…” He looked between them. “You two got married?”
Gray laughed. “Yes, but it’s not what you think.”
“Yeah, that’s a long story,” Adam added. “And not one you’re getting over lunch.”
Owen blinked. “Okay, now I’m intrigued.”
“We’ll dish all the dirt at the party, all right?” Gray tilted his head. “Question. Should we come as respectable members of society…”
“…or as ourselves?” Adam finished.
Owen laughed. “Definitely yourselves. You might even recognise some of my guests. They’re in the same… line of work, shall we say.”
Adam’s eyes gleamed. “Then I’m coming armed with business cards and a camera.”
Gray rolled his eyes.
Adam and Gray’s food arrived moments later, bringing the conversation to a natural pause.
Owen picked up his sandwich again.
Retirement had already surprised him twice that week. First Matt, now this.
Perhaps new beginnings have a habit of arriving when we least expect them.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.
Matt: You have deliveries. I saw the van. I’ve put them around the side of the house. [grin emoji] You have a new lawnmower amongst other things.
Owen smiled as he typed. Great. Thanks for that. I forgot they were coming.
“I remember that smile,” Gray murmured.
Owen looked up. “I’ve hired the young guy from next door to work on my garden. Plus, he’s a damn sight more practical than I am.” He chuckled. “I’m still surrounded by boxes.”
Adam’s eyes lit up. “How young?”
Owen had to laugh. “I swear, you haven’t changed a bit in twelve years. And I don’t think he sits on our side of the church.”
Gray snickered. “You’d be amazed who ends up on our side, if the money is right.”
Adam ignored him. “Answer the question.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “Fine. He’s twenty-five.”
Adam let out a low whistle. “And?”
He frowned. “And what?”
“Is he cute?”
Owen opened his mouth to dismiss the question… then stopped.
Matt’s easy smile flashed through his mind. Dark brown hair. Those thoughtful hazel eyes. The beginnings of a beard. Broad shoulders earned from what had to be hours spent in the gym.
He shrugged. “I suppose most people would say he is.”
Adam barked a laugh. “Translation?”
Before Owen could get a word in, Gray grinned. “What you really mean is, ‘Yes, but I’m pretending I haven’t noticed.’”
Owen rolled his eyes again. “I’m nearing sixty.”
Adam snorted. “You’re fifty-two. There’s a difference.”
“And did you miss the part where I said he’s twenty-five?”
He held up both hands. “Relax. I didn’t ask whether you were planning to seduce him. I asked if he was attractive.”
Owen sighed. “Yes, he’s attractive.”
Adam gave a satisfied nod. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
He could be honest. Matt was attractive, but that wasn’t what lingered in Owen’s mind.
It was Matt’s laughter. His enthusiasm, his curiosity. The way he could spend ten minutes talking about plants, or places, or the best place to put a water feature, and somehow make Owen care about it too.
The kid had a gift for making ordinary things interesting, and somehow, every conversation with him left Owen looking forward to the next one.
Owen smiled to himself. Tomorrow there’d be shelves to build, boxes to unpack…
…and Matt would be there.