Chapter Fourteen

Alex

A s we entered the picturesque little fishing village where my folks lived, my stomach did somersaults. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to tell them about Lucas.

“Places like this make me want to get out of London,” he said.

“Yep.” Black Cove was always beautiful but particularly so at Christmas with the streets decorated with lights and the snow now falling thickly. We drove along the seafront. The ocean was grey, white-tipped breakers splashing against the floodguards. I was still amazed at the performance of the Lamborghini in snow. We would see what it was like when negotiating my parent’s cul de sac on a hill. Lucas might have no choice but to stay the night; we would probably be snowed in within a couple of hours. I knew the sleeping arrangements at my old house. There were four bedrooms. One was my parents’ and one was my old room, which still had my single bed in it. The other one had a double bed for guests and the fourth was an office. So there was enough room for both of us, either together or singly. I couldn’t imagine us both in the double bed with my mum and dad down the hall.

Lucas negotiated the steep hill slowly. I felt the tyres lose traction on the road a few times and my stomach turned over. He didn’t seem concerned. I was so glad I wasn’t the one driving. The sat nav talked incessantly as we made twists and turns getting closer to our destination. He punched the button to shut it up. “I’ll let you direct me,” he said. “She’s giving me a headache.”

“Turn left here.”

Lucas flicked the wipers on to full as the snow obscured his view. He slowed for a passing car, then took the corner. The day had darkened and the headlights picked out the familiar landmarks leading to my childhood house. I loved coming back here and always went walking on the beach, no matter what the weather.

“Right to the end, then turn right.”

The street was narrow and untouched by snowploughs. Most cars were snowed in on their owners’ drives. A few spaces were cleared and gritted. Lucas drove in the tyre tracks of other cars, bumping slowly through the rutted snow before he turned into my parents’ street and climbed.

“It’s a bit tricky here in the snow sometimes,” I said.

“So I see.” He squinted through the thick flakes, the car starting to slide on the hill.

“They live at the top. Shall we stop here and walk?”

“I think I can make it.”

And make it he did. With skilful handling of the car, he made it right to the top of the hill and parked on the drive behind my dad’s BMW and my mum’s Mini.

“You’re a great driver,” I said in admiration. “I think I would have abandoned it at the beach.”

He laughed. “I didn’t much fancy getting wet walking up the hill. Not sure how I’ll get it back down later though.”

“You can stay.” We looked at each other for a long moment.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s one thing to blag an invite to Christmas dinner, it’s another to stay the night.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, squeezing his knee.

He smiled at me.

“You’re not nervous are you?”

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m some random man you met in the restaurant last night. I’m twenty years older than you and…”

“Eighteen.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled the key from the ignition, swinging open his door. We gathered our stuff from the boot. I pulled my coat on and grabbed my overnight bag. I carried the flowers and the Prosecco and he carried the champagne and my Christmas presents.

The door opened as we got to the step and my dad stared first at the car, then at Lucas. “What have you arrived in?” he asked.

I smiled. “Hi Dad.” I put an arm around him and he hugged me back.

“Come on.” He ushered me in.

“This is Lucas. This is Martin, my dad.”

“Hello,” Lucas said. He shook hands with my dad. I looked at them side by side. My dad was a trim man with grey hair and brown eyes. He looked a bit like an older version of me. He was a few inches shorter than Lucas and, what I hadn’t told Lucas, he was only nine years older than him. They didn’t look similar in age now I saw them together, much to my relief. But my dad clearly was appraising him. I hadn’t brought a young man home, but a mature one. And I’d never brought a man home before at all. My dad had struggled to accept my sexuality and all these years, he’d never had to witness it at first hand, since I moved away. Now he was up close and personal with no warning beyond five hours, looking at the man who was fucking his son. An older man, closer in age to my dad than me. I held my breath and felt sick.

“Hi, Lucas, nice to meet you.” My dad ushered him in. He was politeness personified but it was a stiff politeness. I think he was still getting over the shock of having Lucas thrust on him today. I dropped my stuff at the bottom of the stairs and kicked off my shoes. I hung up my coat as Lucas took his own shoes off.

Lucas glanced at me as we followed my dad down the hall to the lounge, both holding a bottle and me holding the flowers for my mum. I squeezed his hand reassuringly. He looked anxious and I wished I could smooth his troubled brow and kiss him. I looked around in admiration. The Christmas tree in front of the French doors looked amazing, loaded with beautiful decorations and twinkling with lights. The dining table was set for four, my mum’s lovely attention to detail visible in the serviettes folded into fans, the holly and mistletoe wreath in the middle, the multitude of cutlery, the crystal glasses and the little bowls of snacks and nibbles. She came out of the kitchen with such a happy smile on her face when she saw me that my heart ached. She hugged me hard. There’s nothing in the world like a hug from your mum. “You look so handsome,” she said. I knew she was distracted by Lucas though, eyeing him over my shoulder. Who wouldn’t be distracted by him?

I drew back. “These are for you.” I thrust the flowers and Prosecco at her.

“Thank you darling.”

“This is Lucas. Lucas, this is my mum, Pam.”

“Hello,” she said, holding her hand out. I could see she was very impressed. Much more so than my dad. “Are you my son’s boyfriend?”

I let the words hang in the air between us and fumbled for something to say to save Lucas, before he replied for me. “Yes. This is for you.” He offered the champagne.

I swallowed my astonishment and he felt for my hand and squeezed it, smiling at me. I beamed back and fell just a little bit deeper over my head.

“Thank you.” My mum regarded him for a little bit longer, then she said, “What can I get you to drink?”

“He likes gin,” I said.

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” my mum said with a smile. “Come in here and see what I’ve got.”

Lucas glanced at me before he followed my mum into the kitchen to view her extensive gin collection. I wondered if she was taking the opportunity to grill him. I turned around to see my dad regarding me and steeled myself.

“Is he your sugar daddy?”

I scowled at him. “Don’t.”

“So he’s not?”

I’d never told my dad to fuck off before. Now I felt like telling him exactly that. While I stared him down, he said, “How old is he?”

“Forty-five.”

My dad’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

“Would I have got the same reaction if I’d brought a forty-five-year-old woman home?” I asked.

Now he looked like he was sucking lemons. “Yes. It’s nothing to do with him being a man.”

“Sure it’s not, Dad.”

We eyed each other and I wished I hadn’t come. I wished I was still in Lucas’s warm, comfortable bed with him holding me. A Christmas with just the two of us would have been amazing and infinitely preferable to this. And instead, Lucas had agreed to come with me for this punishment. I bet he was re-evaluating all the choices he’d made since he met me right about now. At least he wouldn’t get any shit from my mum. I was sure on that point. She didn’t have it in her. Or did she? Maybe she was quietly telling him our relationship was inappropriate right at this moment. Maybe he was going to walk out of that kitchen, shake my hand, tell me he was sorry and get into his Lamborghini, driving out of my life never to be seen again. My heart sank further and further. I went out into the hall and brought in the bag of presents. I knelt and carefully unpacked them, placing them under the tree. Then I slumped onto the couch and wallowed in my own misery, ignoring my dad.

After a few excruciating moments where my dad nursed a whiskey on the other couch and looked at me, my mum and Lucas re-entered. She was carrying two crystal glasses and he was carrying one, sipping as he came. When he smiled at me, it was like the sun peeping between clouds. I was so relieved, I grinned at him and jumped to my feet. “Here you are, darling.” My mum handed me a glass. “Rhubarb gin with elderflower tonic. Your favourite.”

“Thanks, Mum.” I took a hearty swallow.

My mum sipped her own and glanced at my dad. She crooked a finger at him with pursed lips and disappeared back into the kitchen. He and I shared a look before he followed her and the door closed firmly behind them.

I looked at Lucas apologetically. “Whatever she said, I’m sorry.”

“She didn’t say anything,” he said. “Other than to tell me I was very handsome and just the sort of man her son should be bringing home.”

I gaped at him. “She really said that?”

“Yes.”

I opened my mouth to tell him bitterly that I wished my dad had said the same, and closed it again. I’d rather he didn’t know my dad’s opinion. He might feel the urge to get in that car and drive away.

“Sit down.” I pulled him down next to me. We looked at each other as we drank. I tried to think of the words to tell him to warn him that maybe my dad might be frosty during dinner and couldn’t do it. My dad and I had never had a heart to heart talk about my sexuality. He had sat there and listened while I told him and my mum and he had never voiced an opinion. At least, not to my face. He had said plenty to my mum but she had only ever given me the edited highlights. I hadn’t expected antagonism from him when I turned up with my first man. But then I had to see it from his point of view. The age gap. A rich older man in a Lamborghini. It had made my dad bristle and feel protective. I had to convince him there was nothing sordid in our relationship. Not that we had a relationship, but I had somehow lied about that and my parents thought we did. It was better than them knowing that Lucas was, so far, a one-night stand.

I rested my hand on his knee. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I do. My dad, he…”

“Hey.” He put his glass down on the side table next to the couch, then cupped my cheek in his palm. “I get it. His son brings a strange man to Christmas dinner with no notice. A strange older man. I hardly expected him to roll out the red carpet.”

I bit my lip, emotion welling up in me. He was right. In what alternate universe would my dad have thrown his arms around him? He was the man fucking his son, I reminded myself again.

He stroked the curve of my jaw. “Do you want me to go?”

“No!”

He smiled at my vehemence. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

I eyed him anxiously. “Do you want to go?”

He shook his head. “Of course I don’t.” His gaze held mine. “I’m with you. I’m having the best birthday ever.” I blushed and felt tears prick my eyes. “I don’t want to go, but at the same time, I’m intruding on a family Christmas, we just met, and your dad doesn’t like me.”

I shook my head. “He hasn’t said that.”

He regarded me for a moment. Then he slid his hand to the back of my neck, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. I could almost taste the sweetness of his mouth and my stomach flooded with butterflies, my loins stirring from his warmth and closeness. I closed the inches between us to brush his lips with mine. I heard him draw in his breath. His fingers tightened on my neck; he stroked my nape, setting me on fire. God, I wanted him. I wanted him so much. Thoughts of last night hardened my cock. Me under him, his dick stretching me open. I couldn’t help the quickening of my breath and I knew he felt my arousal. The kiss deepened; his tongue touched mine, then I heard the kitchen door open.

Lucas sat back. He reached for his drink and took a gulp. My dad sat down on the opposite couch again, his gaze meeting mine. He had seen us. Did he look faintly disgusted or was it my imagination?

“Come and help me plate up the starters, love,” my mum said.

I glanced at Lucas. I expected him to look terrified at the prospect of being left alone with my dad, but he didn’t. Just cool and unruffled. I admired him more and more. He could handle my dad.

I got up, taking my drink, running my hand over his shoulder as I passed. Perhaps offering him moral support even though he clearly didn’t need it. I followed my mum into the kitchen and shut the door behind us, because she obviously wanted to talk about Lucas. She smiled at me as she started reaching food out of the fridge and laying it on the marble island.

“He’s very attractive,” she said.

I grinned at her like a fool, taking it as a compliment on my pulling power.

“How long have you known him and why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

My smile slipped. I couldn’t lie to my mum. I didn’t want to. I sighed. “He’s not my boyfriend. I only met him last night. I’m sorry.” She raised an eyebrow. “He was going to be on his own today. He had invites but he didn’t want to go anywhere. I felt sorry for him. He would have sat at home alone. I couldn’t bear it.” I was gabbling, my face red.

“You spent the night with him?”

My face grew hotter. I didn’t need to answer.

“How old is he?”

“Forty-five.”

“I see.”

“It’s his birthday today,” I blurted.

Her expression was open and relaxed. “Then we should make it a good one.” She smiled.

I threw my arms around her. She held me tight. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, just like Lucas had.

“Dad hates him.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He hates me too.”

“No, he doesn’t, Alex, it’s just come as a surprise. This is the first man you’ve brought home and if you’d let us know, he would have had time to prepare, get used to the idea.”

“He’s had five hours,” I muttered into my mum’s shoulder.

She laughed and kissed my cheek before moving away. “Wash some lettuce for me. We’re having avocado salad for starters. I think him being a vegan was more shocking to us than you bringing a man home.”

I laughed too and gulped some of my drink, feeling some of my anxiety leaching away.

“Lucky we’ve got Moira on hand, isn’t it?”

Moira was my mum’s neighbour, a crazy cat lady with a heart of solid gold who baked treats and cakes for my parents all the time.

“I went over there for advice because she always has her vegan granddaughter around for Christmas, and lo and behold if she didn’t have plenty of everything to share. He’s not going to go hungry, bless her.”

I smiled.