Chapter 11 #2
Jeff headed into the kitchen. “I know when I’m beaten.”
A minute or two later, they were turning into Owen’s driveway. As they neared the house, noise filtered through the open kitchen window.
Owen slowed. He knew that voice. Not the actor—the dialogue. He’d watched that film often enough to know every line.
Oh…
Oh no.
He stopped outside the front door.
“Damn,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Looks like I left my keys inside. Good thing Matt’s here.”
He pressed the doorbell.
Please don’t let him have skipped to the love scene.
Matt froze.
Fuck.
He jabbed his thumb at the remote.
Nothing happened.
“Come on…” He pressed another button.
The volume went up.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He hit another button.
The picture disappeared.
Success.
Except now the DVD menu was blaring cheerful music through the speakers.
He fumbled again, finally finding Mute, and was rewarded with silence. His pulse hammered as he stabbed Eject.
The tray slid out with all the enthusiasm of a civil servant on a Monday morning.
“Today, please?” Matt ground out. His unexpected hard-on had wilted, unsurprisingly.
The doorbell rang again.
He grabbed the disc, shoved it into the nearest case without even checking the label, snapped it shut—
—and immediately realised it was the wrong one.
“Bloody brilliant.”
He yanked it back out, found the correct case this time, shoved everything into the box, slammed the lid down and, with nowhere else to hide it, dropped another cardboard box on top.
Then he made a dash for the door.
Owen stood there, along with Mum and Dad.
“There you are,” Mum said warmly. “We’ve been wondering where you’d got to.” She chuckled. “I didn’t realise the house is that big.”
Matt pasted on a bright smile. “Sorry. I was… doing something.”
Dad gave him a curious look. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Absolutely fine.”
Mum wandered into the dining room. “Oh, this is lovely.”
Matt silently thanked every deity he could think of that none of them had arrived five minutes earlier.
Then Owen stepped inside. There was the faintest hint of a smile playing around his mouth.
“You weren’t doing anything you shouldn’t, were you?” That tone was far too innocent.
Horror washed over Matt in a slow, unstoppable wave, heat flooding all the way to his ears. “No,” he croaked.
Owen’s smile widened enough to be dangerous. “Good.”
He wandered into the lounge, Matt trailing behind him. Owen’s gaze drifted over the television, the DVD player, and finally the neatly stacked cardboard boxes sitting conspicuously on top of another.
His eyes flicked to Matt. “Looks like you’ve been very productive.”
Matt swallowed.
“Have you unpacked any glasses yet?” Mum asked Owen.
“No, but Callum might have. Let me check.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
Dad stood in the middle of the lounge, gazing at the bookcases. “Wow. You have been busy.” He peered at the shelves, then at the boxes. “Are these all DVDs?”
“Yeah. We haven’t even got to the books yet.” How Matt kept his voice steady, he would never know. He cocked his head. “Everything okay?”
Dad didn’t speak for a moment. Finally, he let out a sigh. “Yeah. Everything’s good. We needed that talk.”
Owen came into the lounge, two champagne flutes in each hand. “Success.”
Mum grinned, then handed a bottle to Dad. “You do it. You know it always makes me jump.”
Matt leapt to the rescue. “No, I’ll do it. Dad has a tendency to break windows.”
Owen laughed. “Good save.”
He tore the gold foil, and a moment later, a dull pop sounded. Owen took over, pouring the champagne, until they all stood in a group.
Mum raised her glass.
“To old friends, new beginnings…” She smiled at Owen. “…and not waiting another thirty years to tell each other the truth.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Dad said. He turned to Owen. “To the future.” He aimed a hard stare at him. “We’ve spent enough time talking about the past for one evening.”
Mum chuckled. “Hear, hear.”
Warmth surged through Matt to hear the love in their voices.
Then everyone sat on the couches, except for Mum who decided to examine the films on the shelves.
“Did you get the reminder email about the reunion?” Dad asked Owen, who nodded.
“Saw it this morning.” His eyes sparkled. “I suppose thirty years is a good time to celebrate.”
Mum turned her head in his direction. “I don’t think we’ll be going,” she said with a sigh.
Owen blinked. “Really? I’d considered it.”
Dad leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And if the circumstances were different, we would have too. But…” He hesitated, and Matt knew exactly what was coming.
Granddad.
“Gordon—Jeff’s father—well… he’s…” Mum’s voice faltered.
“I know,” Owen said quickly. “Matt told me.”
“We know he hasn’t got long,” Dad said in a low voice. “And I want to be there for him. It could be anytime now.”
“And Beth is about to make us grandparents again.” Mum’s face glowed. “Her mother died when Beth was a little girl, so I’m all the mother she has now.”
“And you want to be there for her,” Owen concluded. “Those are excellent reasons.”
Matt’s heart went out to them.
“Why don’t I go in your place?” he blurted before he could change his mind.
Three heads turned in his direction.
“I mean, I could represent you. If you don’t mind.” He shrugged. “I think I can survive an evening of food, drink, and everyone staring at me before they all say, ‘Oh my God, we know whose son you are.’”
Dad laughed. “Yeah, that’d be right.” He gazed at Matt. “Are you sure?”
Matt nodded. “And if Owen’s still going, at least I wouldn’t be on my own.” He glanced at Owen. “You do still want to go, don’t you?”
Owen’s smile held a hint of pride. “Yeah. This is a wonderful thing you’re doing.” His eyes lit up. “So I’ll make it a night to remember. Why don’t I book us a night at the Savoy?”
Matt’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Dad chuckled. “Matt, Owen worked in the hotel industry. He owned hotels. If anyone can get you a suite at the Savoy, it’s him.”
Owen grinned and buffed his nails on his shirt. “I do still have a few connections.”
“That sounds marvellous.” Mum beamed. “Owen, thank you.”
He tipped back his glass and drank half its contents. “Thank you for this. It was a lovely thought.”
Dad cleared his throat. “I think we should call it a night. It’s getting late.”
Matt was more than ready to get out of there.
Mum finished her champagne and placed the glass on the coffee table. “We’ll leave you to your unpacking.” Her gaze flickered to Matt. “Ready?”
Before Matt could respond, Owen said, “He’ll follow you in a second. I need to talk to him about our plans for tomorrow.”
Matt blinked.
“Fine. Don’t keep him too long.” Dad chuckled. “This boy has a habit of burning the candle at both ends. He needs his beauty sleep.”
Mum snorted. “No, he doesn’t. He’s beautiful enough.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Mum…”
“I’ll walk you to the door.” Owen led them into the entrance hall, and Matt caught the murmured goodnights. When he heard the door close and Owen’s footsteps, he began arranging DVDs on the shelf with exaggerated concentration.
Owen coughed.
Matt looked around. Owen stood in the doorway, arms folded, one shoulder resting against the frame.
“So…”
Matt’s stomach dropped.
Owen’s expression was calm. “Have you finished unpacking everything you wanted to?”
Matt blinked again. “Mostly.”
“Good. And thank you, by the way. I was going to ask about that unit, but you beat me to it.”
Silence.
Matt shifted his weight.
“And how was Summer Rain?”