Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart

Epilogue

SIX MONTHS LATER

JAMES

“You do realise the newlyweds are about to commit murder?” I whisper into Perry’s ear, snaking my arm around his shoulders to pull him in closer.

The wedding guests, including us, begin cheering, whistling and applauding as a very smiley Elliot and Freddie plunge a long and lethal looking silver knife into the elaborate tiered cake, festooned with delicate pale pink flowers and glossy stems and leaves — all made from sugarpaste.

Perry snorts. “It’s a cake. It’s meant to be sliced up and eaten.”

True enough, but Perry’s almost cavalier acceptance that his amazing creations will end up as nothing more than crumbs and scraps of spare icing never fails to surprise me.

It is an amazing creation. It’s also incredible, fantastic, brilliant and so many other superlatives, all of them too limp and insipid to describe Perry’s artistry and talent.

“It’s a triumph. Every time you finish a commission, I think you can’t possibly do any better. But you do. Every time.” I place a soft kiss on his cheek, which has gone the same colour as the roses festooning the wedding cake he’s made for Elliot and Freddie, and a thrill of pride races through me.

Perry did this, Perry. My Perry,I want to stand up and crow because I want the world to know what a talented and amazing, incredible man he is. Ah, those weak words, again, that don’t do justice to who he is.

The cake’s soon whipped away out of sight, for the hotel’s kitchen staff to slice it up into dainty portions. Even though I’ve just eaten to bursting, my mouth waters knowing how good it’ll taste.

The wedding planner invites us all to move into the courtyard garden, where more champagne will be waiting for us, and I guide Perry out, my hand resting on the small of his back.

Snagging a couple of flutes from a roving waitress, I hand one to him.

“To us.” We chink glasses. “It’s been a rollercoaster.” I smile into his eyes, as warm as molten chocolate.

“Yes, it has been.” Neither of us are talking about Elliot and Freddie’s wonderful wedding day. “How can so much have happened in just six months?”

My stomach clenches. Six months since I raced to Victoria station, my only thought to stop him from boarding the Brighton-bound train. I’d succeeded, but it’d been a near thing. My eyes start to well up, and a heavy weight presses against my chest. I’m on the point of crying, for what might have been and for what is, and I don’t give a damn who sees.

Perry rests his palm against my cheek, and I press into his warmth. “You have a habit of rescuing me,” he says, stroking his thumb backwards and forwards.

“Somebody has to, because you’re no bloody good on your own.” My pathetic attempt at flippancy is belied by the catch in my voice.

“My Knight in Shining Armour. But you’re only half right. I’m okay on my own, but why would I want to be just okay when I can be the best version of myself? That’s all down to you, James. You’ve made me the best version of me.”

He leans in and brushes his lips over mine. It’s barely even a kiss, but I swear it’s both the sweetest and most intimate moment we’ve shared.

“Perry, I—”

“Oh! I’m sorry.” The pretty young woman who’s bumped into me is looking suitably embarrassed. “Too many of these,” she’s says, holding up her almost empty champagne flute. “I’m more used to Sainsbury’s cava.”

Her laugh’s bright and cheery, and I can’t help but smile. I don’t really mind that my words have been knocked away, because what I have to say is for Perry and me alone.

“Can I get you another?” I ask.

She nods her head, cheeks dimpling as she smiles.

“Yes, please. Do you mind me asking,” she says, turning to Perry, “but I understand you made the wedding cake. Is that true?”

“Yes, I did.” Perry, already pink cheeked, is now going red.

I produce a business card — I just happen to have one or two on me — from the inside pocket of my suit and hand it over to the woman. Perry’s climbing the scale to crimson.

“Thank you,” she says, taking it. “Do you think I can have a quick word? Just a couple of minutes? Ah, sorry.” A flush of embarrassment colours her face. “Maybe this isn’t—”

“Not at all.” I hand her a fresh glass of champagne.

“No, that’s okay.” Perry’s eyes flicker from the woman to me. You sure it’s okay? they seem to say.

“I’d best find Elliot, as I don’t want to be accused of falling down on best man duties.” I wink as I give him a smile, and I’ve barely turned away before the two of them begin talking.

Over the other side of the courtyard, Elliot and Freddie are laughing with Cosmo, who’s Freddie’s best man. Taking Freddie by the arm, Cosmo leads him off, as Elliot, still laughing, shakes his head.

“What was all that about?” I ask, as I join Elliot.

“Cosmo was telling us about his latest exploits, with somebody he met on one of his apps. It was very entertaining, extremely filthy, and I’d say improbable, but then he is your cousin so as outlandish as it was, I suspect it’s true. Whoops. That’s probably an inappropriate thing to say.”

“You mean my slutty ways are genetic?” I stare at my best friend and try my hardest not to laugh when he begins to fluster.

“James, I didn’t—”

“I’m joking.” I can’t help smirking, because teasing Elliot can be such good fun. Even on his wedding day. “But you would’ve been right, not so long ago.”

“And now?”

I shake my head. “No. Never.”

Elliot plucks a couple of flutes from a waitress. “Let’s go and sit down,” he says, nodding to a small table in a sunny corner of the courtyard.

It takes us a few minutes to get there because Elliot’s stopped every couple of seconds by well wishers. We sit down and Elliot releases a long, satisfied sigh. I smile across at the man I love like a brother. He’s got a lot to be satisfied about and for that I’m so very glad.

“No regrets?” Elliot says, his steady blue eyes meeting mine. I’ve no need to ask him what he means.

“None at all, and there never will be. My life’s better than it’s ever been and it’s all down to Perry. And don’t look so smug, Hendricks.”

He snorts. “I told you it would be. With the right man by your side, everything’s better.”

“You did tell me, although it pains me greatly to admit you were right. There, I’ve said it, so you can put your self-congratulatory face away now.”

Elliot chuckles. “To you and Perry,” he says raising his flute.

“Shouldn’t you be toasting yourself and Freddie? It’s your big day after all, and as you know I’m never one to steal the limelight.”

Elliot snorts at the blatant untruth as his clear blue eyes lock with mine.

“To all of us.”

We chink glasses, and for a few moments we sit in companionable silence.

“How’s Perry’s business going?” Elliot asks. “I saw the article in the Ham & High last month. Lots of satisfied customers from the sound of it, and rightly so.”

I can’t help grinning as pride in Perry wells up inside me.

“Yes, the local rag did a good job, and they even got his name right. He’s going from strength to strength. I have to admit, I’m so glad the kitchen unit on the business park we looked at fell through and that he’s ended up working from home.”

Our home, not in some grim bungalow in Brighton…

“It’s about time that big showroom kitchen of yours is finally being put to good use. Perry’s certainly shown that with our wedding cake. It’s a masterpiece. I always knew he was good, but both Freddie and I were speechless when we first saw it. Thank goodness he could fit us in at such short notice, after the original guy’s shop burnt down.”

“Oh, I set it alight. Didn’t you realise? It was all part of my marketing campaign for Perry Buckland Cakes. We’re expecting a glowing review on the website and for you to sing Perry’s praises to all your business contacts.”

“Why do I think you committing arson isn’t totally outside the realm of possibility? But you’re right about a review and recommendations.”

Laughing, I close my eyes and tilt my face to catch the warm, late afternoon sun.

When the kitchen unit on the start-up site fell through, I’d been secretly thrilled. The truth is, I wanted Perry working from our kitchen in our home. I was even more thrilled that he jumped at my suggestion. It made a lot of business sense too, not that either of us had to push that point very hard.

We had to make some changes to the kitchen, which included putting in an additional large double oven so Perry could bake several things at once. The utility room also got a complete refit, providing all the storage and refrigeration he needs — and to comply with food safety regs — not just for now but for the growing business it’s already proving to be. There was, however, one bone of contention.

Perry insisted on paying for the adaptations with the money he’d inherited from his grandfather. We had some lively arguments over that, but they’d all resulted in lots of make up sex, so… But I really didn’t want him to touch a penny of his inheritance. For somebody so sweet and soft natured, he’s got an iron hard core. And a hell of a lot of pride.

“Life’s good,” Elliot says, his voice soft and warm, like the sun on my face. The words are for him and Freddie, but they’re for Perry and me, too.

I drag open my eyes, and look across at my best friend. He’s smiling at me, and I return it with interest.

“It is. It’s more than good.”

Once again, I close my eyes and tilt my head to the sun.

More than good… It’s the plain and simple truth, and they’re the only words I need.

* * *

PERRY

“Hmm, this is nice.”

I nuzzle in closer to James and he tightens his arms around me as we sway to the sultry jazz number the band’s playing. Mabel’s voice is as sweet as sugar, butterscotch smooth, and underscored with a smoky tang.

Along with James, I’ve become a diehard fan of Mabel and her band. We’re almost groupies, and both Elliot and Freddie had been hooked when we’d dragged them out one evening to one of her gigs. They’d booked her for the reception on the spot.

It’s the last dance. It’s been a glorious though long day, yet most of the guests have stayed the course. But it’s nearly over and now I’ll be more than happy for James and me to go home.

Home.

The word still has the power to send a delicious shiver down my spine, because that’s what the lovely Highgate house really and truly is.

But it so nearly wasn’t. Before I can stop it, a hard shudder rushes through me.

James pulls away, just enough to fix me with his moss green eyes. He arches a brow, and it’s so James I can’t stop the little laugh that bubbles up on my lips, but it dies away a second later.

“Perry?” he says, a frown creasing his brow.

“I—I was just thinking that us here today, the business, all of it, how close it was to not—”

James presses a finger to my lips, stilling my words.

“Don’t. You never got on that train, and that’s all that matters. No ifs, no buts, none of it.”

He’s right, of course, although it still doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. Yet in a perverse way I like to think about it.

It’s a heart thumping reminder not just of how much I have with this man, but of how much I love him. I never, ever want to forget or take that for granted, because I know — we both know — how close we were to letting it all slip away.

The music’s stopped. This beautiful day filled with warmth and love has come to an end, and I yawn as the long day catches up with me.

It’s time to go home.

* * *

“Lovely,” James says as he wipes his fingers clean of the last of the little almond tarts. “You know, I think I like these even more than your Victoria sponge.”

“You say that about everything I bake.” I laugh and shake my head, before taking a sip of the sweet, heavy almond liqueur.

It’s almost two-thirty in the morning and I should have crawled into bed when we tumbled out of the cab, but James persuaded me into the garden. To look at the stars, he said, but in Highgate it’s more about the glow of street lamps.

It’s beautiful in the warm night air, the garden bathed in soft light from lanterns hanging from trees and bushes. And so quiet, in the early small hours. Somewhere in the garden there’s a faint rustle as a night animal makes its way through the shadows.

“Happy?” James asks.

“How can you even ask?” His hands are resting on top of the little garden table and I take them in mine and squeeze hard.

My phone’s lying next to our joined hands. We’d been flicking through the dozens of photos we’d taken throughout the day, and it pings as a text drops in.

“Who’s sending messages at this time?” I untangle my hands from James. Then I realise who.

Of course… Life in Spain is lived late.

“It’s Mum. Confirming the flight details for the beginning of next month.”

I can’t help smiling. The last time I saw them was soon after James and I reconciled. It feels like too long a time, but in just a couple of weeks that’s going to be put right. I glance up at James.

“Are you sure about them staying here?”

It’ll be the first time James and my parents will be meeting properly. Sure, there have been lots video calling — and calls from Mum to me afterwards telling me how much she and Dad like him. It’s been a huge relief, and one I’ve kept to myself, because I thought they might have had something to say about the age gap. After all, as James points out, he and they are both old enough to remember the New Romantics the first time round. Who…? What…? I say to him, making sure I turn away before he sees my grin.

“This is your home as much as mine, so of course they should stay here.” What a stupid bloody question, he may as well add.

“I’ll get back to them tomorrow.” I switch off the phone and put it aside, not wanting any other interruptions.

James pours us both another drink. After all the champagne I’ve had, I should be drunk but instead all I can feel is a bone-deep relaxation. Sagging back into the cushioned garden chair, I let go of a long, deep sigh.

Happy? It doesn’t even come close.

“I’ve got something for you,” James says, as he stands up. “I wanted to give it to you at the right time, not when we were busy getting ready for the wedding. Wait here.”

Where exactly he thinks I’m going to go, I’m not sure, as he strides into the house. Maybe it’s a new palette knife. He bought me one a couple of weeks back, the handle shaped like a very big, and scarily lifelike, dick.

Phallic kitchen utensils… That could be an interesting side business…

James returns, and places something down on the table. It’s oblong, wrapped in brown paper and bound up with string.

“This came the day before yesterday but, as I said, I wanted you to have it at the right time.”

Whatever it is, it’s not another dick themed baking accessory.

“James—?”

“Just open it. Please.”

Nervous anticipation wraps me in its arms. I don’t do as he says, not immediately. Instead I look from the plain little package to James. His eyes are in shadow, but I don’t need to see them to know his gaze on me is intense. The air around us, warm and balmy just moments ago, is now charged with skin-prickling electricity.

The string’s lightly tied, and it slips away easily. The brown paper’s crisp under my fingers. Unfolding it I gasp, as its hidden treasure’s revealed.

“I don’t believe it.”

I can barely breathe as I stare down at the book. Shadows from the candlelight dance over its worn cover, the cloth frayed at the edges. With trembling fingers I turn to the title page, and there it is, in Granddad’s spidery handwriting.

“‘To Perry, my favourite grandson xxx.’”

The words blur as tears fill my eyes. My favourite grandson… It was his little joke; I wasn’t just the only grandson, but the only grandchild.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out, on a few sites. I’m sorry I’ve only found the one, but I’ll keep looking for the others.”

“Oh, James, I don’t know what to say. God, I thought they were gone for good. Even if we only ever find one of them…”

My tears stream down my cheeks, but I don’t bother wiping them away. Putting the book aside, I jump up to hug this wonderful, thoughtful man who drags me into his lap and nuzzles into my hair.

“I’ve something else,” he murmurs. “But I didn’t find this online.”

He reaches into his pocket. Opening his hand, a small dark box sits in the center of his palm.

All I can do is look at it, hardly daring to reach for it, or touch it. My heart’s hammering hard, all the nighttime sounds of the garden drowned out by the boom, boom, boom filling my head.

“Don’t you want to know what’s in it?” James’ voice, low and seductive, the classic car purr that never fails to shoot a delicious shiver through me.

My eyes flicker from the box to James. He’s watching me, his feline eyes dark and unfathomable.

With nervy, quivering fingers I take the box and lift the lid. I swallow hard.

The ring nestled on a pad of velvet is plain and unadorned. With an unsteady hand, I pick it up. It’s cool to the touch, and heavy.

“It’s… Are you…?” My words stumble from me as I clutch the ring, holding it tight and never, ever wanting to let it go.

“Yes, I am. I love you Perry, I love you so much. You rescued me, as I rescued you. I was a drowning man. I couldn’t admit it to myself, too scared to, I suppose, but I was barely keeping my head above water. You saved me from going under.”

James takes the ring from me, and slips it on the ring finger of my left hand. It slides on as smooth as fondant icing. It’s a perfect fit, its weight solid and reassuring. Taking my face between his palms, he places a gentle kiss on my lips, so soft, so light it’s like the thinnest, finest silk.

“It’s my promise to you, an unbreakable promise I’ll always keep that my heart is yours. Yes, I’m asking you to marry me. But there’s no need to rush, because we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“All the time, and all the love. Always all the love. I’ll keep your heart safe, James. That’s my promise to you.”

I close my eyes and deepen the kiss, wrapping my arms around him as our promises, never ever to be broken, wrap tight around our hearts.