Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Three more photographers appeared on the street outside, milling together in a little cluster, already aiming cameras at us through Possimus’ famous window wall.
My skin itched.
“Thought this was supposed to be a date, not a docu-drama.”
Simon frowned. “It will be a date, once we’ve dealt with all this. I promise.”
Wake up Cooper. This had never been a date at all.
Richard Whittaker didn’t have to be here for us to talk to Luke. We didn’t have to be here to talk to Luke. Simon had planned everything for maximum exposure, not romance. He didn’t do romance.
Right on cue, Richard materialised at the door.
“Simon, you dog! Fancy seeing you here.” He strolled across the restaurant, beaming. “What are the chances? I have to sit with the pair of you now.”
He thumped my shoulder hard enough to make my teeth clack. All the muscles holding up my smile slackened. “What an absolutely unexpected coincidence.”
Simon tilted his head. “Ben, play nicely.”
“Love this place.” Richard announced, tucking in his seat on the other side of Simon.
And I realised the full genius of a window table.
All three of us on the same side, close enough for photos together without it looking like we’d decided to line up in height order.
“Have you ordered yet? You have to try the duck. Temp’s obsessed with it. ”
I slumped low in my seat. Not even Simon’s food recommendation was his own.
Barely five minutes later, Luke appeared in the doorway, wearing the same jeans and sleeve-rolled, tucked-in shirt combination he’d had on that fateful Friday. Nice belt. Nice shoes. Nice forearms. Intimidatingly glossy hair.
He shouldered off his record bag, not exactly smiling as he looked from me, to Simon, to Richard, and out at the sea of cameras on the pavement. “Didn’t realise you’d called a press conference.”
“Oh, you’re utterly fascinating.” Simon folded his arms onto the table top without disrupting any of the excess cutlery, and leaned in.
Luke eyed him with deep suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
I couldn’t work out his play either.
Richard stretched across Luke to the bottle of wine and poured himself a glass as though he hadn’t even noticed him sit down. At least one of us was having a good time.
“I’m watching you and I still can’t figure out how you’re doing it.
” Simon tilted his head like a curious owl.
“Your mouth doesn’t move. It’s uncanny. You could have a very successful career in ventriloquism.
” He folded his napkin next to his plate.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t catch a single thing you said. ”
“Good job Ben’s here then, isn’t it?”
Automatically, I jumped to it, signing away, paraphrasing to catch Simon up, but he laughed, waving a hand at me to stop.
“No, sorry. Ben’s part of your interview.
He’s here having lunch with me, as my boyfriend.
And you’re planning on asking him questions, which he won’t be able to answer effectively if he’s playing translator.
” His smile had teeth, even though his voice stayed saccharine.
“Oh dear. Did you fail to organise an appropriately qualified interpreter for this little chat? It’s quite a basic thing. Legally required in fact.”
Luke’s face flamed so vibrantly I almost felt sorry for him. Being out of your depth with Simon in charge made everything feel like drowning. “I didn’t realise you weren’t going to—”
“Shall I use live captions on my phone?” Simon asked. Ever so helpful. “Not entirely convinced it’ll pick up your accent. But it’ll have to do, seeing as you haven’t made other arrangements. You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”
Simon propped his phone against the fake orchid, angling the screen towards the pair of us. His happiness looked inextinguishable as he stretched his arm along the back of my chair. “Shall we start from the beginning?”
Richard speared an olive with a toothpick, then propped his chin on his fist like he was modelling for some French sculptor, chewing slowly. I sat bolt upright between the pair of them, nothing of my own to say.
“It’s terribly embarrassing.” Simon had total control. “Richard’s been amazing about the whole thing.”
“Not at all.” Richard scoffed, brushing the compliment away with a flip of his hand, already spearing another olive. He looked right into the camera of Simon’s phone, well versed in media-training. “Simon’s very dear to me. We’ve worked together for such a long time.”
Oh hell. One of them was going to post this.
Simon made a show of protesting. They must have rehearsed.
The timing of his glance towards me was too perfect.
Painted-on adoration didn’t feel like him at all.
He didn’t get moon-eyed over anyone. Definitely not me.
I wasn’t falling for it. Not even if he had come over yesterday to make sure I was ok.
And stayed, even though I hadn’t thought he would.
This was different. This was putting it on for work.
“We were utterly terrible guests. He should have disowned the pair of us. It’s testament to the kind of person Richard is that he didn’t immediately name us. The video could have done his upcoming marriage so much harm.”
A cramping ache started up in my cheeks from forcing my grin. All of this was bullshit. But if Simon noticed my shoulders getting stiff, it didn’t stop him.
Richard jumped in with sickening ease. “I have to credit Temp – she’s been amazing through all this. We’re so ready to move on, and share our upcoming nuptials with everyone.”
There wasn’t a thing I could add. They had it all stitched up between them like the perfect double-act.
Luke visibly gritted his teeth. “Very touching and everything, but it doesn’t make sense, does it?”
Simon barely blinked. “Doesn’t it?”
“No. Why didn’t you name them, Richard?”
Richard cleared his throat. “Wasn’t my call to make.”
Luke scoffed. Simon’s eyes narrowed enough for me to notice. “Ben and I are unmistakably in that film.”
“Yeah. The second one. Didn’t come forward until that hit the internet though, did you?”
Simon’s frown flickered in. Irritation looming. “I don’t know what you think you’re getting at—”
“Yes you do.”
“Listen, Luke. I’ve been identifiable in both of those films right from the moment they aired. Ben wasn’t. He is not in the public eye. He has every right to privacy.”
“And you were happy sitting back letting Richard’s relationship get trashed were you Ben?”
Oh fuck. “Erm..?”
Luke ploughed on. “There have been serious doubts about the validity of that film—”
“Now hang on a minute!” Richard’s booming voice cut through the static. “Just because everybody wanted it to be me, doesn’t mean it was.”
Blow me – I was being rescued by the underwear model who didn’t rate me as his body double.
Luke’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I’m trying to understand why – if it really was you two – as you keep asking everyone to believe – you didn’t say so, Ben?”
Every blood vessel in my face dilated. My body clearly mistakenly believed escape would come from the heat making me rise up and float off like a hot air balloon.
My cheeks fluoresced harder with every heartbeat.
Christ, Luke would pull at all the holes in our botched-together story until it unravelled like a moth-eaten jumper.
“I – um.” Static rang in my ears. Over by the side of the room the waiter hovered, exuding disapproval. No one else had come in here lying their lying teeth off.
“I don’t think you did, Ben.” Luke had victory in his voice. “I don’t think you and Simon are even together. You wouldn’t have ended up coming back with me if you were.”
Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“No. We are though.” Oh god. How weak did that sound? On a scale of zero to convincing, I was a solid minus five. “You’re just – you’re wrong. We’re in that tape.”
Next to me, Simon drew a slow breath over his teeth. No cracks in his mask.
“Luke, I’m sure you’re from a lovely, deeply accepting family, but Ben isn’t.”
“Oh stop clouding the issue. I’m asking Ben right now, not you.”
Simon’s face set with grim composure.
“I see. You have no interest in the truth? Unfortunate that you don’t believe it’s relevant Ben – understandably – didn’t want his only living relative to be confronted with a tape of him having sex with a man, and disown him for it.
Richard’s wedding wasn’t at the forefront of either of our minds. ”
Oh my god. My ears rang. What was he doing?
“Simon.” Eyeballing him, I shook my head, telepathically commanding him to stop. Under the table, he reached to squeeze my hand.
“It’s okay.”
I shoved him off. It was not okay making out I was stuck in the closet because of Gran. Because I wasn’t loud about being out. But he couldn’t take it back and the red light on his phone was still winking, recording over the truth of me.
“You might want to make a note, Luke. His mother died when he was growing up.” Every word sliced into me. Simon had no right sharing this. But Luke was dialled in. “He doesn’t have many people who are close to him. Does that make enough sense for you, now?”
My lungs seized – my ability to breathe rusted solid. Around me, the definition of the room faded out. I could pass out, right in front of them all, and no one would notice because Simon was in full swing.
None of this was about me. Simon didn’t give a shit about my gran. Or my mam. Or me. This was all about the story. The narrative. Richard fucking Whittaker was front and centre, just like Luke said he was. And I’d played into it, right from the start.
Luke glowered.
“The thing is,” Richard’s voice echoed into the space, and I closed my eyes, praying to the universe for the world to stop turning. “I want to add something here. To clarify my position. The thing is – that video wasn’t entirely incorrect.”
One single truth throbbed neon with clarity behind my eyelids. This had never been about me and Simon at all.
“Richard, what are you doing?” Simon didn’t like him going off script. What a joke. I blinked my eyes open. Luke was staring at me like we’d both realised what an insignificant pawn I was at exactly the same time.
Richard held a hand up.
“Si, let me finish.” Si. Fucking Si and Dick and Temp.
“The truth is Simon and I have been more than friends. In the past. Which Temp is fully aware of. Let me assure you of that right now. I’m sure there will be a lot of people telling me I’m stuck halfway out of the closet, and lying to myself, one way or the other.
Which, honestly is why I haven’t been prepared to be upfront sooner.
But the fact is, Temp is bloody gorgeous.
And so is Simon. In a very different way.
I mean, look at him.” He was already laughing.
My face refused to join in. “You did look at him, I bet. For a full three minutes, a couple of times over I should imagine.”
Luke’s eyebrows stitched together. Richard – the ruiner of all plans. Breaking his big scoop wide open and smashing it to bits. Like he always should have done.
Oh god. If I’d kept my mouth shut he’d have come out and said all this anyway.
Because I was an extraneous bloody part.
Because Simon was so incredibly dear to him.
What had I been thinking? Richard Whittaker was right bloody there to step in and remind Simon how good they were together without the need for our total farce of a relationship.
And I was the idiot tangling everyone up in unnecessary knots over abso-bloody-lutely nothing at all.
“I’m marrying Temp, because I love her more than I can put words around the feeling.
Not just because I knocked the old gal up.
” His bark of a laugh echoed around my head.
“But Simon is remarkable. And I truly hope he finds somebody equally remarkable, to do more than have a little romp with on my sofa behind my back.”
Finds. Future tense. Because Richard knew it was never going to be me. Everything between me and Simon had only ever been for his benefit.
I felt sick.
A little tinge of pink backlit Simon’s face. I only noticed because he looked like that when he was fucking me.
I stood sharply, pushing my chair out with the back of my shaking legs, nearly stumbling as I stepped away from the table. All three of them turned to look at me.
“Ben?” Simon was already on his feet, but Richard had his hand on his shoulder. The waiter stepped close like the hero I hadn’t realised he was.
“Restrooms are this way, sir.”
“Thank you.”