Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Thirty-Six

JAMES

“It’s a contender, don’t you think?” I say, raising my voice over the music in the pub.

“It’s certainly the best place we’ve seen so far.” Perry flicks through the photos he’s taken of the kitchen unit we’ve just been to see. “A bit larger than I need, or at least for now, but it means there’s room to expand.”

I sit back in my chair and smile. He’s thinking ahead and that’s good. The unit’s more than a contender. On a small business park just a couple of miles away from the house, it’s perfect for a start-up. The costs are reasonable too, but they’re going to be even better because I’ll be negotiating on Perry’s behalf.

“Shame it’s not available until the end of January, though,” he says, putting his phone away. “But then I suppose it gives me time to get everything else set up. God, there’s going to be so much to do.”

“Yes, but I’m here to help, don’t forget.”

“I know, and I’m kind of glad I’m not doing it all myself.” A warm smile lifts his lips.

“Kind of glad?”

“Very glad.” He leans in and lands a quick kiss on my cheek, his smile widening to a grin. “Thanks for… Well, for everything I guess.”

“Why don’t we finish these, go home, and then you can show me how glad you really are?”

Perry blushes, and it flips my heart that I can still make him do that. I hope I always will.

“Let me give it some thought.” He cocks his head to the side and makes a show of considering my suggestion. “Hmm, I might be able to do that. After we pick up a takeaway. Chinese, I think.”

I huff and do my best to appear put out by the idea.

“How have we come to this, and after such a short period of time? You’re putting a bowl of noodles and some sweet and sour sauce ahead of showing me your appreciation?”

“You really are losing your touch, old man. You don’t think I actually want to eat the Chinese, do you? At least not off a plate. I’m thinking about getting inventive with pork balls.”

He tilts his chin upwards and stares at me. There’s a dare in the dark chocolate depths of his eyes, and I mean to take it up. I lean forward and lower my voice.

“Old man? You’re going to regret those words, Buckland. The sky’s the limit when it comes to what I can do with a couple of spring rolls, and as for crispy aromatic duck…”

We’re locked in a stand-off, and I intend to win. Perry’s Adam’s apple dips and rises, and I smile.

“Well,” he croaks, “if you want to put it like that, we—ohh, fuck.” He all but leaps out of his seat as his phone, buried in the pocket of his jeans, leaps into life.

“It’s Alfie,” he says, a wide smile wrapping its way around his face. “It’s been weeks and weeks… I’ve got to answer… Alfie!”

Sorryhe mouths to me. His off-grid friend who’s back on grid just at the wrong time.

So much for fun with pork balls…

I sit back and take a sip of my G&T.

“Sorry? What’s that?” Perry frowns as he covers the ear not clamped to his phone with his free hand. The music’s loud but the customers are louder. “Hold on, I’ll go outside.” Perry throws me an apologetic smile as he gets up and pushes his way to the exit.

Left on my own, I let my gaze roam. I’ve been here before, but not for some time. It’s a gay pub, but not exclusively so, and the whole vibe is pretty laid back. Friday evening, and couples and groups of friends are marking the start of the weekend.

My attention fixes on a small group of guys up at the bar. Early thirties, I guess. All toned and fit. Very toned and fit, in slim fitting track suit bottoms, and striped sweatshirts.

Of course… There’s a rugby club not far from here. I’m about to look away when one of the guys, on the fringes of the group, looks across. He catches my eye and smiles. It’s light, friendly, and casual, not an obvious come-on. So I smile back, before I let my gaze continue on its meandering way.

Who’d have thought it? Passing up an opportunity to flirt, and more.

Not me, and not in a million years. But here I am, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been and it’s all down to Perry. I wouldn’t want it any other way… The thought that he might have disappeared down to Brighton, that I could so easily have lost him sends a shiver across my skin.

Yet, there’s no denying it’s a huge change, after years and years of playing the field, having who I wanted when I wanted, and steering clear of entanglements.

My gaze drifts back to the guy standing at the bar. He’s talking to somebody, laughing and nodding his head, and doesn’t notice me looking. Which is all I’m doing. I’m realistic enough to know that a lifetime’s habits can’t be overturned in a matter or weeks. No doubt I’ll always look. Looking’s harmless, it’s what comes after that isn’t.

Don’t do anything stupid and risk screwing this up with him… You feel like this now and I hope to God that three months’ or six or in a year’s time you still do…

Elliot’s words, out of nowhere, rock me, and I jerk back in my seat, almost dropping my glass.

What the hell…?

There’s no way on this earth I’m going to do anything to risk what I’ve got with Perry.

Everything Elliot said to me that evening when we met up had been out of friendship and concern, but it’d also been said out of knowledge of the kind of man I am. Or the kind of man I was.

Was, not am.

Still, irritation prickles my skin that my oldest friend’s faith in me might be built on shaky foundations.

“Fuck off, Elliot,” I mumble, picking up my drink and chugging it back.

A burst of laughter, loud and raucous with a dirty edge, as though somebody’s just told a particularly filthy joke, jolts me out of my ill-tempered thoughts, and I look over at the knot of rugby players.

They’re all laughing hard, and one or two are wiping their eyes. The guy’s still there, the one who smiled at me. He’s tall with dirty blond hair and there’s no denying he’s easy on the eye. In another lifetime… Which is not this lifetime. Yet, my gaze lingers.

He must sense my scrutiny, because he turns and catches my eye. Like before he smiles, but the lightness has gone. It’s more intense, more focused. He says something to the guy standing next to him and hands him his pint. I know what’s coming next, and it’s everything I don’t want. I swing my head around so fast I hear the crunch of bones in my neck — and just in time to see Perry pushing his way towards me.

“He’s coming home next week.”

“What?” I can feel my cheeks throbbing and as Perry throws himself into his chair and stares at me, I feel like I’ve been caught out.

“Alfie. Who do you think? He’s finished his shepherding job. As soon as he’s back we’re going to meet up. That’s brilliant. Another drink?” He points to my empty glass.

“No, let’s go.” All I want is to get out of here.

“Oh, okay. Perhaps we can get that Chinese then?” Perry laughs. It’s a light and happy sound but all I can do is answer with a nod as I bundle him out of the pub, and refuse to look back.