Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
The ferry pulled out of East Cowes, pausing now and then to weave its way through all the boats filling the Solent.
Matt hadn’t had a clue what Cowes Week was, or that boat owners from around the world would descend on the small town to celebrate sailing with races, a lot of Pimms and fizz, and fireworks.
He stood beside Owen on the upper sundeck, the ferry’s engines humming beneath his feet as the two halves of the town slowly disappeared from view.
Almost forty-eight hours ago, he’d boarded the ferry convinced he’d fallen in love with a man who couldn’t possibly love him back.
And now?
He wasn’t sure of anything.
His thoughts drifted back to the previous evening.
That wasn’t casual.
It couldn’t be.
He still had no idea what name Owen would give to whatever existed between them. Maybe Owen didn’t know himself. But somewhere over the course of the weekend, Matt had stopped trying to convince himself he was simply another chapter in Owen’s life.
Nobody handed over that kind of trust to someone who didn’t matter.
He smiled to himself.
For the first time since Eric had uttered those terrifying words—You’re in love with him—they no longer felt like the beginning of a tragedy.
They were more like the beginning of a story whose ending hadn’t been written yet.
Owen watched the wake stretching out behind the ferry.
Matt leaned on the rail, hair ruffled by the wind, smiling at something only he could see.
Warmth spread through Owen’s chest.
I spent years believing there were parts of me that belonged to the past. Parts that had been Ben’s alone. And yesterday, without planning it, he’d discovered that wasn’t entirely true.
What shocked him most about the last two days?
He hadn’t felt guilty. He hadn’t felt as though he were betraying anyone.
He’d simply trusted, and Matt had treated that trust with a tenderness Owen hadn’t known he’d been hoping for.
He’d expected to enjoy the weekend. He hadn’t expected to enjoy watching Matt’s delight in everything he saw.
Owen wondered whether Matt would still be smiling when he saw the photographs they’d taken. Whether he’d tell his friend Eric about the trip—all of it. Whether he’d remember the view from Compton Bay as vividly as Owen always had.
“Callum was right about that place,” Matt murmured.
Owen shifted closer. “The Sleepy Dormouse? Or the island in general?”
He chuckled. “All of it was good. But yeah, the pub was great. That breakfast was enormous. And good company too.”
“You mean Daniel and Aidan?” They’d met a couple of walkers who were exploring the island. They’d been sitting at the next table, and Owen had told them about possible places they could camp.
“Yeah, they were a sweet couple.” Matt smiled. “Do you always run into gay men everywhere you go?”
“Pretty much.”
Owen’s thoughts went to the following morning. Coffee in the garden, Matt probably wandering over around half-past nine. They’d talk about the weekend while pretending to work.
The thought settled over him with surprising contentment.
He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed those ordinary moments until they’d almost disappeared.
Now, he couldn’t wait to have them back.
The bike had only just reached the garage door before Cyn appeared from the house, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
“Oh good. You’re still alive.” Her eyes twinkled. “And the bike is in one piece.”
Owen killed the engine and pulled off his helmet. “Some greeting.”
She chuckled. “I was pleased to see the bike. You, I’m reserving judgement on.”
Matt laughed as he climbed off behind him.
Cyn’s gaze moved between them. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, we did.” He glanced at Matt. His smile hadn’t budged since the ferry.
Callum appeared in the doorway with a mug in his hand. “How was the island?”
“Brilliant.” Matt handed Owen the helmet and gloves. “And thanks for the loan of this jacket. It was perfect, not too heavy.”
“Did you get to see everything you wanted to?” Callum asked.
“The castle and Osborne house.” Matt grinned. “A ton of little villages with sneaky winding roads that come up on you all of a sudden. And some glorious views of the sea.” He peered at Callum’s mug. “Don’t suppose I could have some tea? The one on the ferry left a lot to be desired.”
Callum laughed. “Come on in. I’ll make a fresh pot.”
Matt followed him into the house.
Cyn disappeared into the house briefly before emerging with Owen’s car keys. She held them out to him. “Here.”
“Thanks.” When she didn’t let go immediately, Owen gave her an inquiring glance. “Something on your mind?”
Cyn pulled the front door closed. “You look happy.”
Owen’s initial instinct was to make a joke. Then he glanced in the direction Matt had taken. “I had a good weekend.”
“I can see that.”
There was something in her tone that made him look back at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Cyn.”
She smiled. “I’m not asking you anything.”
“Good.”
“I’ve known you too long to need to.”
“We had a lovely time.”
“I know.” She squeezed his arm. “And that’s all I wanted to know.”
Then she went into the house, leaving Owen standing there with the car keys in his hand. Through the open door, he caught Matt’s laughter.
She’s right. I am happy.
“Did you have a good time?”
Matt blinked. Dad stood next to his chair, a mug in his hand.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
Dad chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed. I was in two minds whether or not to bring you some tea in case I disturbed your train of thought.” He placed the mug on the table, then nodded towards the laptop.
“Back to the grindstone, I see. At least you’ve had a couple of days away from it.
I’ll admit I was shocked when I saw you hadn’t taken the laptop with you.
” He smiled. “Good for you.” Then he cocked his head.
“You must be getting down to the wire by now.”
“I have a couple of weeks. I’ve already booked my train ticket to Edinburgh to hand it in.” Matt chuckled. “A sort of self-imposed deadline. And I’ll stay in Stirling with Eric, a uni mate. That’s less than an hour from the city.”
“You’re happy with it?”
He huffed. “Ask me again when I’ve nailed this last chapter.”
Dad pulled out a chair and sat. “Does that mean less time at Owen’s?”
Matt gave a shrug. “To be honest, the garden’s all but finished. Ready for the housewarming.”
“You never told me about his party last week. How was it?”
He picked up the mug. “It was fine. Lots of guests, lots of food…” He grinned. “Pool antics. It was fun.”
Dad leaned back. “You get on well with Owen, don’t you?”
“We have a lot in common.”
“Which is kinda surprising, given the age difference.” Dad chuckled. “I did warn him, though.”
Matt frowned. “About what?”
“I told him you were an old soul. Well, not in those words, but he got the right idea. And I’m glad you get along so well.”
Matt lowered his gaze to his tea. He could still feel Dad’s gaze on him, however.
“You seem to have spent a lot of time together this summer.”
“Yeah.”
“More than I expected when you took the job.”
Matt shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I had a lot to do over there. And he’s good company.”
“I can see that.”
Something about the way Dad said it made Matt glance up.
Dad was smiling. “I think Owen’s seen more of you this summer than we have. Maybe the trick was to pay you. That might’ve worked.”
Matt laughed. “Definitely. You should’ve tried that years ago.”
Dad laughed with him.
Matt looked down at his tea, smiling. He really had spent a lot of time with Owen this summer.
And I wouldn’t have changed a minute of it.
His phone buzzed on the table, and Matt glanced at the screen.
Owen: Coffee’s on. I know you’re planning to spend the day chained to that laptop, but if you fancy a break, there’s a mug here with your name on it.
Something warm and ridiculously pleased unfurled inside him. It was only a coffee, but Owen had thought of him.
“That’s Owen, isn’t it?”
He glanced at his dad. “Yeah, he wants me to come over and talk about the garden over a coffee.” Another shrug that managed to appear way more casual than Matt felt. “I think I might take him up on that.”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “Now?”
Matt nodded, already closing the laptop. “I’ll only be half an hour.”
Dad glanced at the screen, then at the laptop disappearing into its case. “Interesting.”
Matt paused. “What?”
“Nothing.” Dad pushed his chair back. “I just thought the dissertation was important.”
“It is.”
“Apparently not as important as coffee.”
Matt grinned. “It’s Owen’s coffee.”
Dad laughed. “Ah. Of course. How could I have missed that distinction?”
Matt shook his head, trying his best to hide the happiness still there, bright and alive.
He slipped his phone into his pocket. The dissertation would still be here.
Owen was waiting.
Matt stood on the side of the pool, drinking in the view.
Owen stood in the middle of it, water lapping his chest, his hair slicked back, beads of water glistening on his skin like diamonds. He beamed at Matt.
“You look like you need to cool off.”
Matt folded his arms. “You lured me here with the promise of coffee.”
Owen’s eyes glittered. “Yeah, about that… I lied. But you really do look hot. Too hot for coffee, anyway.” He reached under the surface to cup his bare shaft. “I have something else for you.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Has anyone ever told you you’re wicked?”
“Constantly. It’s my middle name, didn’t you know? Owen Wicked Lane.” Then he hit the water with his arm, sending a wave of it into the air—
And over Matt’s shorts.
He glared. “You splashed me on purpose.”
“I did nothing of the sort.” Owen grinned as he waded towards the side and hoisted himself out of the pool. He stood next to Matt, shaking water droplets everywhere. “And you still look hot. In more ways than one.”
That was all the warning Matt got before Owen pushed him fully clothed into the pool.
Matt surfaced, spluttering, to find Owen was back in the water again, laughing.
“You bastard.”
“I believe the technical term is host.”
“You’re a terrible host.”
“And yet you keep coming back.”
Matt opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Owen’s smile widened. “Exactly.” And then lips sought his as Owen slid his hands down to Matt’s arse, lifting him into his arms and carrying him towards the shallow end.
His mouth brushed Matt’s ear. “Your clothes will dry quickly out here. And if you can keep the noises down to a minimum, there’s lube in the pool house.”
Matt’s chest heaved. “You think of everything.” He locked lips with Owen in a fervent kiss.
A heartbeat later he was out of the pool, on a lounger, naked and damp, and Owen was using fingers and tongue to drive him out of his mind.
The best fucking summer ever.
“My parents are going to think I’ve moved in here permanently,” Matt remarked as he stirred the sauce Owen was creating for dinner.
“Are you here that often?”
He snorted. “Since the island visit, I’ve spent four evenings round here. So yes, I am.”
“I wasn’t counting.” Owen walked up behind him and slid his arms around Matt’s waist, nuzzling his neck the way Matt loved. “I notice more when you’re not here.”
Warmth flooded through him.
Then Owen let go and went back to chopping garlic.
Matt glanced at the chopping board. “You’ve already added garlic. That’s way too much.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“I think you’ll find there is.”
Owen grinned. “Well, it won’t matter, because the only person I’ll be kissing after it is you.” He scraped his knife across the board and dropped the garlic into the pan. Owen gave him a pointed stare. “Keep stirring.”
Matt shook his head. “What film are we watching after dinner?”
“You can choose this time. I chose the last three nights.”
“Nothing too loud. No explosions. No dead bodies.”
Owen chuckled. “Well, that narrows the field.”
“How about A Matter of Life and Death?”
“Again? You know every line of the film.”
“So do you. I had to listen to you reciting it the last time we watched it.” When Owen didn’t respond, Matt glanced at him. He paused his stirring. “Is everything okay?”
Owen tilted his head. “I’m not too much of a distraction, am I? You coming over so often isn’t stealing time you should be spending on the dissertation, is it?”
Matt let go of the spoon, turned to face him, and looped his arms around Owen’s neck. “If that was the case, I wouldn’t be here. Everything’s on track.”
Owen’s mouth found his, and Matt lost himself in a lingering kiss.
“Matt,” he murmured against his lips.
“Hmm?”
“Burn our dinner, and I’ll make you eat it.”
Matt smiled. “I was in the mood for pizza anyway.”
Owen’s days had taken on a pattern, and he couldn’t have been happier about it.
Some evenings they barely seemed to do anything at all. They talked, kissed, and sat together in comfortable silence. Matt discovered Owen liked having his hair touched. Owen discovered Matt automatically reached for his hand whenever they sat beside each other.
Sometimes a kiss became another kiss.
Sometimes they just lay together on the sofa, legs tangled, talking about nothing. Matt told Owen about Edinburgh. Owen told him stories about hotels he’d owned, guests he’d never forget, staff who’d taught him more about hospitality than any business course ever could.
They laughed, argued over films, stole food from each other’s plates, and fell asleep together more than once.
Somewhere in all those ordinary moments, something changed. Not in a dramatic way. There was no single conversation that marked it.
Matt didn’t feel like a visitor anymore. It was more a case that he seemed to belong there. Owen stopped noticing when Matt arrived.
He only noticed when he wasn’t there.