Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Matt opened his eyes, aware of Owen’s warm body curled around his, Owen’s chest snug against his back, one arm draped over Matt’s waist, their fingers intertwined.
He had to smile.
Owen’s fast asleep, and yet even now he’s holding me.
Not in a possessive way, but maybe because at sometime during the night, reaching for Matt had been the most natural thing in the world.
Then Owen stirred, nuzzling into Matt’s neck before pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Morning.” A single word, rough with sleep, followed by another kiss.
Matt rolled over to face him, and Owen smiled, a soft, unguarded smile that only seemed to exist first thing in the morning.
He leaned in to kiss Matt, no urgency, just warm lips lingering against his, fingertips brushing across Matt’s cheek as though reacquainting themselves with it, relearning the shape of him.
Matt kissed him back, his heartbeat quickening. This felt nothing like the breathless urgency of the night before.
This was comfortable, familiar, as though waking up together was something they’d somehow slipped into without either of them noticing.
Owen rested his forehead against Matt’s. “Coffee?”
Matt nodded. “I’ll go set up the machine.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Owen’s eyes drifted closed again.
He chuckled. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” He eased out of bed, located his shorts and squirmed into them, pulled the tee over his head, and padded downstairs.
The house wasn’t silent. Music played at low volume in one of the bedrooms, and from below drifted the sound of voices in conversation.
The kitchen wasn’t the disaster area he’d been expecting. A couple of guys were working with quiet efficiency, emptying the dishwasher and wiping down worktops. One of them gave Matt a warm nod as he entered.
“We don’t know where everything goes,” he explained, gesturing to the plates and glasses.
Matt waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” He went over to the bread bin and removed the loaf. “There’s butter, jam, and marmalade in the fridge. Help yourselves to toast. I expect Owen will sort out something more substantial for breakfast when he gets up.”
The other guy smirked. “Whenever that is.”
Matt saw the coffee machine was already up and running, and he poured himself two mugs, then carried them through the house into the lounge.
Two men lay asleep beneath a throw on one of the couches, curled up together, and that brought another smile. Matt crept past them, quietly opened the patio door, and stepped out into the morning sunlight. He set one mug down on the table.
Owen will find it.
The other stayed in his hand.
Matt wandered towards the far end of the garden and lowered himself into one of the Adirondack chairs overlooking the pool. The water shimmered beneath the early sun, deceptively calm.
His own thoughts were anything but.
What lingered wasn’t the sex—it was waking up wrapped in Owen’s arms. That sleepy nuzzle against his neck. The absent-minded kisses to his shoulder.
The way Owen had reached for him before he’d even opened his eyes.
Matt closed his own. There was a lot to process, far too much for someone who hadn’t even had his first coffee.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at Eric’s name.
He’ll be up.
He won’t mind.
The poor bloke deserved a medal. Every time his own head tied itself in knots, Eric somehow ended up patiently untangling them.
One day I’ll phone him just to ask how he is.
He pressed the call button, and Eric answered on the second ring.
“Morning.”
“Hi.” Words failed him for a second or two.
Eric chuckled. “Is that all I get?”
“Sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”
“Aha. Would it have anything to do with Owen?” Eric sounded far too pleased with himself.
Everything to do with him.
“What’s happened?”
Matt let out a slow breath. “Not sure where to start.”
“Try from the beginning. I hear that’s popular.”
Another deep breath, and the words began to pour out of him. He told Eric about the party, Adam and Gray, Felix and Sebastian… And because he was on a roll, he told Eric about the guys fucking in the garden room, in the barn, seeing Owen with Phil, the invitation, desk sex, waking up…
By the time he finally stopped talking, his coffee had gone cold, and Eric hadn’t interrupted once.
Matt leaned back and closed his eyes. “You know what surprises me most about last night?”
“What?”
“I had the chance to have sex with two men.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
“I’ve never had a threesome. Maybe it just isn’t your thing.”
Matt frowned. “No, that wasn’t it.”
“Then what was it?”
Matt stared across the shimmering pool. “I couldn’t stop looking at Owen.” Another silence. “I didn’t want anyone else.”
Eric laughed softly. “Well, that took longer than I expected.”
Matt frowned. “What did?”
“You.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How many times have we spoken this summer?”
Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. Three, four times?”
“And during all those conversations, when was the last time you described somebody who wasn’t Owen?”
Matt searched his memory.
Nothing.
Eric continued, his tone gentle. “You’ve spent the last twenty minutes telling me how Owen smiled. How he laughed. How he kept checking you were okay. How he kissed your shoulder this morning.”
Matt swallowed. His gaze drifted towards Owen’s house. What filled his head was watching Owen laugh, seeing his smile, observing him with Phil…
Watching Owen sleep.
“You don’t only want Owen.” Eric’s voice was low. “You only see Owen.”
The words created a sharp ache in his chest as he remembered waking up wrapped in Owen’s arms, wishing the day would stay like that.
It hadn’t been the sex.
God, it had never just been the sex.
Eric broke the silence. “Matt…”
“Yeah?”
“You’re in love with him.”
Matt opened his mouth. The denial reached his lips…
And stopped.
Suddenly everything made sense. Every smile that had lingered a little too long, every excuse to stay another hour.
Every disappointment when he had to leave.
He covered his eyes with one hand. “Oh.”
“The funny thing is, I don’t think this is the day you fell in love with him.” He paused. “I think this is simply when you finally noticed.”
Matt couldn’t reject Eric’s hypothesis, not when every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion.
“Have I shocked you into silence?”
“Not shocked.” Matt let out a humourless laugh. “More terrified.”
“I think it’s wonderful.”
Matt uncovered his eyes and looked towards Owen’s house. “Not if he doesn’t feel the same way.”
Eric was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he won’t.”
Matt closed his eyes.
“But maybe he will. So what are you going to do?”
Matt opened his eyes to stare at the sunlight dancing across the surface of the pool. “I don’t know.” His stomach fluttered.
“Well, let me tell you one thing I do know.”
“What?”
“I’ve never heard you sound this happy talking about anyone.”
Matt turned his head to gaze at the glass panels surrounding the roof terrace next to Owen’s bedroom. “That’s the problem.”
“No.” Eric’s voice was gentle once more. “That’s the privilege.”
He frowned.
“Most people spend their lives hoping they’ll meet someone who makes them feel the way Owen makes you feel.” Eric paused. “You’ve already found him.”
“And if he doesn’t love me back?”
“Then it’ll hurt.”
The honesty caught Matt off guard.
“But don’t let fear convince you this wasn’t worth feeling.”
Matt said nothing.
“Now,” Eric said in a bright tone, “finish that dissertation before you start writing Owen’s name in your bibliography.”
Matt managed a laugh. “That feels an extremely random way to end this call.”
“It was all I could think of.”
“Eric? Sweetheart? What does a man need to do around here to get some breakfast?” a voice called out in the background.
Eric laughed. “Coming.” He sighed. “No rest for the wicked.” A pause. “Are you okay? Or have I just detonated a bomb in your morning?”
“Yes, to both. But I’ll cope.” Matt said goodbye, pocketed his phone, and sat there.
The pool shimmered in the morning sunshine. A blackbird landed on the fence, cocked its head, then flew off again.
Everything appeared exactly the same, and yet it wasn’t.
He was in love with Owen.
How long have I felt like this?
Long enough that he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped looking forward to working in the garden, and started looking forward to seeing Owen.
Coffee had become less about caffeine and more about sitting opposite a man whose smile made everything feel easier.
Conversations with Owen had become the best part of his day.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ had become something he looked forward to hearing.
He laughed to himself. I am completely and utterly hopeless.
Then the laughter faded.
Love changed everything—and nothing.
Owen had never pretended this was heading anywhere. If anything, he’d been painfully clear. Ben had been the love of his life, and he wasn’t looking to repeat that.
Matt stared across to Owen’s bedroom.
I won’t become another person expecting Owen to feel something he doesn’t.
That wouldn’t be fair, not after everything Owen had trusted him with.
Not after hearing him talk about Ben.
Matt rested his elbows on his knees.
I love Owen, but that’s my problem, not his.
The thought hurt more than he’d expected.
He drew a slow breath.
Finish the dissertation.
It had started as an academic deadline. Now it became an anchor, something he could control.
He couldn’t control who he’d fallen in love with.
He couldn’t control whether Owen would ever feel the same.
He couldn’t even control the ridiculous grin that appeared whenever Owen gazed at him.
But I can write. I can finish.
He could pour every confused thought into something that made sense.
Three chapters left. Then the bibliography. Then the formatting.
That was the plan. Keep busy, keep moving.
Don’t start imagining futures that might never exist.
He glanced once more towards Owen’s balcony.
Just because he’d fallen in love didn’t mean anything had actually changed.
Except, of course, it had.
From that moment on, every coffee they shared, every joke, every accidental touch, every smile across the garden would carry a weight it hadn’t before.
And Owen has absolutely no idea.
Owen woke to an empty bed before he remembered where Matt had gone.
He smiled. Matt and coffee. Some habits apparently formed quickly.
He pulled on a T-shirt and wandered downstairs to an unexpectedly tidy kitchen and not a soul in sight. Around him were noises, pointing to life existing somewhere in the house.
He knew where Matt would be.
Owen walked through the lounge, waving at the guys on the couch. He stood at the door, gazing out at the garden.
A mug of coffee stood on the patio table, doubtless stone-cold by now. And Matt was by the pool, apparently deep in thought.
Owen watched him for a moment.
He looks peaceful.
Whatever was going through his head, Owen had no desire to interrupt it. Some thoughts deserved room to breathe.
He smiled to himself. When Matt was ready, he’d come back.
And Owen had guests to feed.