Beautifully Unexpected by Lily Morton

Chapter Twelve

Mags

I wakewhen the blinds pull back from the window and the room fills with early morning sunshine. I stretch out in the warm sheets, and memory slowly returns as my muscles protest at the movement. Smiling, I reach out across the bed, but there’s nobody there, and the sheets are cold to my touch. My eyes fly open, and I scowl at the empty stretch of bed. Where the fuck did Laurie go?

I look around the bedroom, but there’s no sign of him. I’m alone in the pristine environment of my bedroom and a shocking feeling of anger stirs inside me. He went without saying goodbye.

I’m being ridiculous. I don’t like men staying in my bed overnight. They make the bed hot and the room messy.

So why am I so cross? Not just cross—I’m furious. Laurie left me with no word of goodbye, creeping out of my flat like a thief while I was asleep. Worse, I’m remembering how I’d asked him to stay, curling around him, urging him to remain in my bed.

I groan and scrub my hands through my hair, telling myself to calm down. It doesn’t work.

I stalk through the flat a few minutes later, unshaven, barefoot, and dressed in just my shorts.

“Mr Carlsen,” my housekeeper gasps. “Are you alright? Are you ill?”

“I’m fine, Mrs Sinclair,” I call as I reach the front door. “I just have a small errand to do before I have breakfast.”

“But Mr Carlsen, you’ve forgotten your shoes.”

Her scandalised voice fades away as the door closes behind me. I march to Laurie’s flat and bang on the door. I wait a few seconds and then bang again. After hearing the familiar faltering footsteps, I knock three more times for good measure.

“Okay, hold your horses,” he grumbles. The door flies open, and he appears. The cross look on his face melts quickly away to shock. “Mags,” he says. He looks me up and down, and his lip twitches at my attire. “Oh, poor you. The dress code for court is so stuffy.”

I consider trading witty quips and immediately discount it in favour of action. I grab his face, cupping his jaw in my palms.

“What the—” His question becomes a groan as I kiss him.

That sultry sound is like a match dropped in a bucket of petrol. I shove him back against the door, plundering his mouth with furious kisses. All the tension leaves his frame, and he melts against me, his hands in my hair, pulling and tugging, as he sucks on my tongue.

I pull back, our mingled breaths coming hot and fast. “You left,” I say.

He hesitates. “I did. I needed to paint.”

I relax slightly, and his gaze slants away from mine. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

The slight trace of pity in his voice makes me go hot all over with embarrassment. “Of course, I didn’t mind,” I say immediately, stepping back. “It was just a little rude. I don’t keep men, but I do like to say goodbye before they fuck off.”

It’s not the truth. It’s not even close. But when relief flashes over his face, I feel sick and dizzy, as if I’m in a lift that dropped too quickly. I’ve never been on this side of the conversation before. This must be how my hookups feel when I give them the brushoff in the morning. I’m just grateful I didn’t decorate my genitals.

“Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry. It was a bit rude of me.”

I shrug.

He laughs, his relief now obvious. “God, I thought for a second that you’d developed feelings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say through stiff lips. My whole body flushes hot and cold. AmI developing feelings? I shelve that horrific thought for later.

He shakes his head, and leaning in, he kisses me softly. He smells of paint and tastes of coffee. I want to grab him close and squeeze him, but I repress that terrible urge and step back. “Come and have breakfast,” I say, making my voice light and even.

“Is that a euphemism?” His smile is wicked.

I laugh, feeling easy once more. “Don’t be an idiot. Come and have breakfast, and then I need you today.”

“Is it as a receptacle for your penis?”

I roll my eyes. “That is the least attractive thing you’ve ever said to me, Laurie, which is really saying something.” He laughs. “No, I need you to come with me. I have to pick up Don today.”

A furrow forms between his eyebrows, but it vanishes as he smiles again. “Don? Is that one of your men?”

I raise my eyebrows. “No. Don as in Armageddon. The dog you made me buy. The shelter approved me yesterday, and today I am to collect him. This was your bright idea, so you can come with me and see it through.”

“Have you given any thought to naming him something else?”

“I will think about it,” I say in a lordly fashion. “Now, come and eat. You are skin and bone.”

* * *

Two hours later,I turn to him. “I think my name was entirely appropriate, yes?”

Laurie and the lady who works at the shelter observe the red setter merrily chewing up his blanket in his cage. Water is sprayed everywhere from his bowl, and the remains of some chew toy that wasn’t up to standard are strewn in the corner. Even as we watch, he sits up and starts to howl.

“Oh, look at him. Isn’t he sweet?” the lady gushes. “He’s saying hello to his new daddy.”

Laurie snorts, and I turn to look at her. “I’m sorry. His new what?”

“His daddy,” she says cheerfully, undoing the latch. “Now, you have to be quick to catch him because he’s a sod for running off. Yesterday, it took us three hours to get him back. The naughty little boy kept playing hide and seek. Oh, bugger!” she exclaims as a flash of red streaks past us. “He’s off again.”

I turn my head slowly to look at Laurie. He’s studiously ignoring me, but he’s also bright pink in the face. Probably from repressing laughter.

“Come here,” the lady cries. “Time to go home with daddy.”

The dog gives her an old-fashioned look and darts away. Laurie loses his battle and breaks into peals of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “It isn’t funny. I’m sure he’ll settle.” He snorts and breaks into more laughter.

“I am no longer calling him Don,” I inform the idiot beside me. “He is now called Endof.”

“Ooh, that’s nice,” the lady calls. “Is it a Swiss word?”

Laurie bites his lip and I give the woman a blank look. “I am Danish,” I inform her. “And no. It is merely the conjunction of three words—end of days. I have shortened it to Endof.”

“Well, that’s lovely,” she says briskly. “Now grab the lead, and we’ll get your boy home. Tell him daddy wants him home.”

“I am going to repay you for this,” I say darkly to Laurie, who has tears in his eyes. I snap my fingers. “Come here, Endof,” I say loudly. The dog stops capering about and stares at me. “Now,” I say firmly. “Come.”

I hide my astonishment when he does exactly that. When I turn around, Laurie and the lady are staring at me. “One should have the touch,” I say airily. “They just need to know who their master is.”

“Okay, now I understand the twinks,” Laurie mutters. “It’s all in the tone of voice.”

I ignore the fool and follow the woman back to her office to complete the huge amount of paperwork that would only make sense if I was adopting Prince William. Eventually, we’re done and smiling my thanks to the woman, I make my way back to the car. Laurie falls into step next to Endof and me.

The dog pulls on his lead and makes an alarming choking noise. After we’ve stopped to ascertain that he isn’t dying but is instead apparently stupid, we set off again. Endof paces along shaking his head and looking around for a new opportunity to cause mayhem.

“So, what is next for us?” I enquire of Laurie. “Should I purchase a battering ram, and we can practise destroying my front door? Or maybe we could pour boiling oil over my furniture?”

His lip twitches and he reaches down to pet the dog, who immediately acts as if Laurie is a member of his long-lost family. “They all sound quite anarchic choices, Mags.”

I sigh. “That is all that is left to me now that we have Endof.”

“I could have sworn you just said we.”

“I did. This was your idea, so you’re going to help me.” I consider my upcoming schedule. “I have a trial in Nottingham starting soon. You may have Endof for the duration.”

“I may have him? You make it sound like I’m begging you for his company.”

I nod in a regal fashion. “You were. You were just doing it very quietly.”

“One might even say silently.”

“Ah, Laurie, after the way our bodies came together, our minds are as in tune as a couple of violins.”

There’s a stunned silence. I can’t help the uptick of my lips, and he shoves me. “Fuck you. You had me going there. A couple of violins? Mags, I’m beginning to think it’s a good job you’re so vehemently single if that’s your idea of romantic talk.”

“I have no idea what romantic talk is,” I say, opening the door of my car and letting Endof into the back seat. He immediately shakes himself violently sending hair and canine saliva all over the leather seats. I give a sigh of resignation and return to the conversation. “It’s not exactly something that has happened to me in my life.”

Laurie climbs into the passenger seat. “Nor me.”

I shoot him a glance. “Not even with the creators of your mixtapes?”

He looks bewildered for a second and then laughs. “Not really, seeing as the playlist consisted of songs like ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’ and ‘Fuck Forever’.”

I start the car and join the London weekend traffic.

“This is a nice car,” Laurie says, patting the leather seat.

“I don’t use it much. I prefer to walk or take the Tube.”

“You get on the Tube? You?”

“Why are you saying that in such a tone of disbelief?”

“Because you don’t look like you’d do public transport. It’s like Charles the First going to a hatmaker.”

“Your analogies are completely ridiculous.”

We both jump as Endof thrusts his head between us, panting happily.

“Aww, lickle baby,” Laurie croons. “He wants to be next to his daddy.”

“What an abhorrent selection of words,” I say in disgust.

Laurie pets the dog. “We need to get him a harness.”

“I have so many questions now,” I murmur.

He chuckles. “He needs a harness, a lead, food bowls, and something to secure him in the car so he can’t get hurt. He’ll also need a check-up and a health certificate.”

“Why? Is he taking a job with the government?”

“You need it if you’re travelling with him now that we’re not in Europe.”

I consider that and then nod. “Yes, we’ll need that. Get on your phone and see if there’s a vet around here.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

“And start making a list,” I say, ignoring his sarcasm. “It’s like taking a baby home,” I say as Endof licks my ear. “That is disgusting,” I inform him, but he just gives me a doggy grin.

“Never wanted children, then?” he asks, tapping away on his phone.

“I’d rather have syphilis.” He snorts with laughter, and I elaborate. “I’d be a terrible father, and the idea of being responsible for a small person is horrific.”

“You’re going to be responsible for Endof,” he points out and then shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure the poor dog will end up looking after you anyway.”

I give that statement the attention it deserves, which is nothing. “How about you?” I ask. “No desire for little Lauries?”

He wrinkles his nose in a way that should not be as charming as it is. “Nope. I like my life the way it is. No ties. No expectations. No one will perish because I decide to spend two days working on a picture without stopping for food. I’ll settle for spoiling my nephews and nieces.”

“We agree, then,” I murmur. “You do need to eat properly, though,” I inform him. “One cannot work properly if you don’t have sufficient fuel.”

“I’m not a Vauxhall Corsa.”

“Definitely not. They’re far less trouble.”

He chuckles and then becomes occupied in directing me to the vet’s, his voice a warm drawl in my ear.

An hour later finds us in a waiting room. Endof is sitting demurely at my feet. His appearance is severely misleading as he’s just spent the last hour howling at all the animals within his radius and has probably severely traumatised a gerbil. Consequently, everyone in the room is giving us a wide berth.

Laurie sits back in his seat, his leg crossed over his knee and his foot jiggling. I’ve come to know that he cannot sit still and must constantly be jiggling some body part or moving around. My mother was much the same. I wonder if he’s still when he paints. He’s reading a magazine about dogs and enjoying himself by throwing facts at me.

“Did you know that dogs can sniff at the same time as they breathe?”

“I did not,” I say, petting Endof when he forces his head into my hand. “I also didn’t know that a greyhound could beat a cheetah in a race, and dogs have a preferred paw, and all the other useless information you’ve provided me with.”

“You should read more,” he says in a serious voice, flicking over another page.

“I do,” I say patiently. “Because of yet another dictate from you. I’m reading the third book you made me buy.”

He looks up, instantly interested. “Do you like it?”

I hesitate before saying, “I don’t not like it.”

“Such peerless literary criticism.”

I roll my eyes. “I have a lot on my mind. Fiction doesn’t help with that.”

He looks suddenly concerned. “What’s the problem, Mags?”

“Could it possibly be that my name isn’t Mags?”

“No. Try again.”

“It’s nothing really.” Endof eyes a Persian cat in an expensive-looking carrying case, and I nudge him with my knee. “No,” I say. “Not in a million years.” He pants, giving me what looks very much like a dog smile accompanied by wild eyes and a crazed air. “You are a monster,” I inform him. I turn back to Laurie to find him watching me. “What?”

He shifts on his seat, and I’m surprised to see a flush rising on his face. “Nothing. Go on with your problems.”

“Are they more interesting than your dog facts?”

“I suppose so. Unless you’re telling me that you’ve got worms, because according to this magazine, they’ve got a new treatment for that.”

“Not as far as I’m aware.”

“Problems?” he intones.

“I don’t sleep very well in the period before a trial.”

“Is it all that not caring about your client’s bullshit?” he says in a sympathetic tone.

“No,” I say, unable to help the revolted edge in my reply. “I don’t care, and that is a good thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I would not be doing my job correctly. I cannot afford to care. I just have to defend them. That is my job. I’m not their friend or family or their priest. I am their barrister.”

“I can see that all those legal dramas I watched were useless.”

I roll my eyes. “Ridiculous dramas.”

He grins. “So, the problem is that you can’t sleep?”

“No.” I look idly around the waiting room. “My head is too full of facts. They swirl around up there like a—” I search for the word. “Like a kaleidoscope.” I sigh. “Ack. You see the problem, Laurie. I can’t even summon words.”

He scans my features, and I can almost see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes. He starts to say something, but the door opens, and a man in scrubs calls, “Endof Carlsen?”

I stiffen. “Is he summoning me by my dog’s name?”

Laurie laughs and stands up. “Get used to it.”

“And what is this giving him my surname? I’m not married to the ridiculous creature.”

“No, you’re just his daddy,” my supposed friend says, unable to help his grin as he ambles over to the waiting vet.

I look down at Endof. “Ridiculous,” I say, and he whines as if agreeing.

The next half an hour is spent watching the vet give Endof a thorough examination and his second set of vaccinations. I am lectured about his needs in a manner more befitting my adopting a child, and I listen meekly while fully aware of Laurie hiding his smile poorly.

Finally, the vet turns to his computer. “I’ve signed his health certificate. You’ll need that if you plan to travel now that we’re no longer in Europe. It’s his passport. I’ll file it, but would you like a copy?”

I nod and smile my thanks when he hands it to me. I fold it neatly and put it into my wallet.

“Why in your wallet?” Laurie asks, as nosy as ever.

I wrinkle my nose. He prods for information as if he’s being paid per question. “I might decide to travel abroad quickly.”

“So quickly that you can’t go home and print it off? I wasn’t aware that barristers were such impetuous globe trotters.”

“What you know about barristers would fit on the back of a very tiny stamp,” I inform him.

He and the vet laugh, and I roll my eyes and look down at Endof. “Ready, my friend?”

He gives a soft bark and, to everyone’s astonishment, sits down and offers me a paw.

Laurie shakes his head. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I did,” I say entirely untruthfully. “I expect him to behave, and the animal senses my will. It is straightforward, really.”

He arches one eyebrow. “As simple as him chewing your wallet?”

I look down at Endof, who immediately adopts an innocent face that is slightly spoiled by the leather wallet hanging out of his mouth. “Bah. This animal is defective.”

* * *

Endof behaveshimself during a stop off to get supplies for him and even on the journey home, which leaves Laurie and I regarding him with deep suspicion. When we exit the lift, Laurie gets out his keys, and I gape like an idiot at him.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” he says. “Well, my brother’s home. It’s a long commute to the South of France and back.”

“Can you utter a sentence that doesn’t involve mocking me?”

He gives that serious consideration and then shakes his head. “No.”

“Wait. You’re leaving me on my own with him?” There’s a frantic note in my voice that I can’t repress.

“Who?”

“Endof,” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do with him.”

He bites his lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his wide mouth. “He’s a dog, Mags. You don’t have to do much apart from love him, feed him, walk him, and give him somewhere to sleep. You don’t have to put his name down for a school or save for his dowry.”

I roll my eyes. “I cannot imagine what your dowry would consist of. It’s hugely likely that sarcasm is a component.” He chuckles, and I sigh. “I’m sure we will be fine,” I say haughtily. I look down at Endof, who gives a wild toss of his head. “He’ll probably be quite biddable once we’re alone,” I say doubtfully.

I was very wrong. By the time night falls, Endof has destroyed his bed, two remote controls, and the legs on my sofa. He’s currently lying on the aforementioned sofa, his eyes rolling in his head. I stand staring at him with my hands on my hips. After a few hours of not knowing where the next attack on my defences will occur, I’m sweaty and dishevelled. It’s how I imagine purgatory to be. Tiredness tugs at my body and softens my thought processes.

“You are a menace,” I inform the creature, and he gives a groan and rolls onto his back with his legs in the air.

The doorbell rings, and he immediately rolls over with a manic expression on his face. “No,” I say, but it’s to no avail. His volley of barks sound as if he believes someone is ramraiding my home.

“Be silent,” I command, but he reacts in the same manner he’s treated all my instructions in the last few hours. He completely ignores me. “I’ve changed your name, you stupid animal,” I mutter, grabbing his collar. “You are now called Laurie.”

I throw the door open and eye the man leaning against the doorjamb with a paper bag in his hand. “What do you want?” I ask.

He grins. “I wanted to see how Endof was settling in.”

“Very well, if that actually means destroying the flat.”

He chuckles. “Thought so.” He pushes past me, entirely convinced of his welcome, as he probably should be. I’ve laid out the proverbial red carpet for him ever since I’ve known him.

He looks at the files spread over my dining room table and then shoots me a glance. “You look tired,” he says in a softer voice.

“I am fine,” I say with a sigh. “Thank you. Sleep is always hard-won at these points. I can catch up later.”

He strolls into the kitchen, and Endof and I follow him automatically. He sets the bag down on the counter and removes a jar. “What is that?” I ask.

“Honey.”

“And it is in my flat, why?”

He rolls up his sleeves. “I’m going to make you hot milk and honey.”

“Good grief, why?”

He chuckles. “So you can sleep. It’s an infallible remedy. My mum used to make it for us.”

“Were you five? I can’t imagine it’s happened lately.” I look pointedly at the circles under his eyes.

He flushes, and I immediately relent. For some reason, when he’s uncomfortable, it makes me the same. I’ve given up trying to rationalise why.

He rallies and busies himself in my kitchen. “Go and shower,” he tells me. “I’ll nip Endof out for a pee, and then I’ll make your drink.”

Unable to think of a reason not to obey him, I do as I’m told and head off to have a shower.

When I come back into my lounge, I find him standing a wary distance back from the window, looking out on the view. Night has fallen and the wraparound balcony is dark, the patio furniture shadowed humps. His face is introspective, the usual vitality missing, and I can see how tired he is. Endof barks and whisks over, wagging his tail and letting Laurie know that I’m here.

He turns and immediately smiles, masking his expression. I frown.

“Feeling better?” he says. “I’ve got rid of Endof’s basket.” His lip twitches. “It was spread rather comprehensively over the flat.”

“Endof is a dog of big statements,” I inform him.

He smiles. “Like his daddy.”

“Laurie,” I warn.

He laughs out loud. “Come on. I’ll make your milk.”

“And one for yourself.”

He raises one eyebrow in question, so I elaborate. “If you’re experimenting on me, I demand to see you drink one first.” His eyes narrow, and I assume an innocent expression. “It’s only sensible. You could be drugging me to have your way with me.”

“I’ve already had my way with you, and it didn’t take any drugs.”

“That is because I am manifestly easy,” I inform him.

For some reason, my statement tickles him. He’s still laughing as he heats milk on the coffee machine. It makes a noise like a steam roller.

I settle myself at the breakfast bar and watch him. He looks at home, but then I’ve come to realise that this is a defining characteristic of his. He’s supremely and quietly confident. Warm and comfortable. Nothing stumps him.

He pours the milk into two mugs and slides one in front of me. “Silky milk,” he says.

“Pardon?”

“We used to call it that when we were kids. It’s the whisking. It makes it feel silky.”

“Do you know what does feel silky?” He raises an eyebrow. “An espresso martini,” I offer.

He dismisses that with an airy wave of his hand and hunts in the cupboard before exclaiming in triumph and withdrawing the tin of biscuits. “Homemade ginger biscuits,” he says. “Lovely.”

He sits himself down at the counter next to me and removes a biscuit before leaning over and dipping it in my milk.

“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to keep the humour from my voice.

“Dunking my biscuit, so it’s soft.” He takes a bite and hums in pleasure, a sound that abruptly recalls the noise he made when I slid my cock into him for the first time. I shift position to relieve the pressure on my dick.

“I can see that,” I say, returning to the conversation as doggedly as Endof keeps trying to murder his bedding. “I’m just unsure why you’re softening your biscuit in my milk.”

He takes another bite. “Crumbs,” he says through a mouthful of biscuit.

“Disgusting,” I say briskly, but it doesn’t entirely cover up my admiration.

He smiles at me. “Drink your milk,” he says, nodding at my cup. “And then to bed with you.”

“It’s nine thirty at night. I am not in an old people’s home or hospital.”

He wrinkles his nose. “And you’re telling me that because?”

“Because that is the only reason to go to bed at that time.” I tsk. “It is a slippery slope, Laurie. Within a few days of early bedtimes, I will be wearing trousers with an elasticated waist and being gratuitously rude to strangers.”

“I think you’re already at the latter stage, and at least you’ll never struggle with buttons.”

I watch him as he sips his drink. For someone so eager to extoll the benefit of an early night, he’s not heeding his own advice.

I move into the second stage of my plan as he puts his empty mug down. I drain my drink. It’s sweet and frothy and smells of cinnamon, and yes, it’s silky, damn him. “Come then,” I say and get to my feet.

“Come where?”

“Bed, of course.”

“Is this a sexual situation?”

I blink. “No.” I grimace apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m far too weary to get an erection tonight, Laurie. I mean, I probably could get one. I just lack the energy to do anything about it.”

“I bet you say that to all your twinks.”

“No.” I sigh happily. “It’s so nice to be friends with you, Laurie, at your age.” It’s the truth concealed in humour. With younger men, I have an image to maintain. I’ve never felt that with Laurie, and it’s one of the best things about being friends with him. I can admit to being tired and not feeling like sex.

He shakes his head. “I’m younger than you.”

“And you’re staying here tonight.”

His eyes are huge in his face. “I am?”

I nod. “Yes,” I say briskly. “I have things I wish to discuss with you about the book you made me buy, and it is Endof’s first night. He has grown tolerant of your presence and wishes you to stay here.”

“And you’re sure that’s Endof’s view?”

“Of course.” I head to my bedroom, aware of him trailing reluctantly behind me.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he says in a slightly panicked voice that I enjoy far too much. “I don’t sleep well, Mags, and I’ll disturb you.”

“Not at all.” I switch on the lamps on the bedside tables, and the room fills with a warm glow against the dark night outside. “Come on,” I say. I strip off my T-shirt and look down at my shorts. “I usually sleep naked,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I’ve seen the goods, Mags. I’m not afraid to sleep next to your uncovered penis.”

I smile happily and immediately shed my clothes. “I detest wearing anything in bed.” I climb between the sheets and rest against the pillows with a contented sigh. “Come on,” I say as he hesitates.

Endof has no such hesitation and jumps onto the end of the bed. I gesture to the second basket I’d bought at the shop and positioned on the floor at the end of the bed. “Get on your bed,” I command.

He eyes me dubiously, and Laurie smiles. “Poor baby. He just wants to be close to you.”

“Something that you are taking your time about,” I say. “Get undressed. I wish to discuss things with you.”

“You are aware that you’re not a member of the royal family, aren’t you?”

“I lack the prominent ears.” I point at Endof and then the basket. “Get in there,” I say using my courtroom voice, and eventually he slinks off with an aggravated sigh and lies on his bed, staring at me with yearning eyes.

I turn as Laurie slides into bed next to me, getting a glimpse of his long, slender body and the soft length of his cock. My dick twitches, but I will it down. Tonight is about him getting some sleep, so I draw him into conversation, keeping my voice even. I insist on reading the book’s offending passages to him, keeping my voice even and soft, and his eyes start to droop. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep, his long lashes lying on his thin cheeks.

I eye him happily and switch off the lights. I turn on my side, facing him. Beyond him, London spreads out in multicoloured twinkling lights, but I ignore them in favour of sliding closer to him, inhaling his soapy scent and feeling the warmth of his skin. I exhale slowly, and my eyes slide closed. A few seconds later, the bed depresses, and Endof surreptitiously joins us.

“Just tonight,” I whisper. As he curls into the curve of my knees, I slide my arm over Laurie’s waist and slip into sleep.