14. Bailey

"I'm ready!"Harper strikes a pose in my bedroom doorway, looking every bit like he's on the catwalk of a fashion show for posh country wear.

"For what?"

"To come with you, of course."

"Come with me?"

His smile falters. "Volunteering." He gives me puppy dog eyes. "It's all right if you don't want me to come."

I stride to him, hold his hands, and kiss him softly. "You want to come?"

"Yes. I want to see what my husband is so passionate about."

"It won't be an easy night."

He lifts his chin. "I'm prepared for that, physically, mentally, and emotionally." He takes his hand from mine, pinches his fingers together, draws in a deep breath, and pulls his hand in an arc in front of him from his head to his gut.

I chuckle. What other reaction is there?

"Can I come?" His grin is endearing in a heart-fluttery kind of way.

"Yes, but please wear something a little more low-key."

Harper looks at himself.

"Your coat probably costs more than most people's monthly salary."

He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. "You're probably right."

I go to my wardrobe and take some clothes out of the bag of things Lucy wanted to get rid of. I was right to keep them for volunteering, if nothing else.

"Here, put these on." I hand Harper the clothes. It helps we're pretty much the same size.

He hugs them to his chest. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Harper."

"Yes, husband?"

"Thanks."

He blinks. "What for?"

"Showing an interest in what I do." I scuff my toe against the wood floor. "You've already donated so much. You don't have to spend the night on the streets with me to prove you're supportive."

"I want to."

Something stirs in my gut. It's a nice sensation. "Thank you."

Harper grins, bows, and then flounces out of the room.

I wait for him in the dining room. When he comes down the stairs, dressed in my scruffy jeans and baggy jumper, I barely recognise him. But it's a cute look on him.

He holds his arms out and twirls. "This is only the second time I've worn off-the-rack clothing."

"I appreciate your sacrifice."

"Do I look the part now?"

I put my hands on his hips. "Yes. Th?—"

He silences me with a steamy kiss. "You don't need to keep thanking me. This is what husbands do, isn't it?"

I tilt my head. "Aren't you supposed to be proving you're a terrible husband?"

He shrugs. "Eh, I've got plenty of time to do that. How are we getting there? Wherever there is."

"Tube."

His mouth wobbles.

I laugh. "You've never been on the tube before, have you?"

"No."

"There's a first time for everything."

We put boots on. I lend Harper a coat, gloves, and a scarf, and then we walk to the tube station. I slip my hand into his. Harper squeezes my fingers and grins. I show him how to use his bank card to get through the ticket barriers and teach him which side of the escalators to stand on so as not to piss off people who are in a rush. During the journey into the heart of London, he gazes around with wide eyes like a child experiencing the world for the first time. It's late, so the tube is quiet. He probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic if we were squashed like sardines in a tin.

London at night is very different from during the day. Crowds of shoppers are replaced by people sleeping in shop doorways. Harper's joyous expression morphs into a mournful one.

"I didn't realise there were so many people on the streets," he whispers.

"You come into London a lot. Surely you've seen people begging?"

"I never really noticed them." He hangs his head. "Does that make me a terrible person?"

I squeeze his hand. "No. When you're on the streets, you might as well be invisible."

"You're talking from experience, aren't you?"

I nod. My chest aches.

When we arrive at the shelter, Maria greets us. "Hello, Bailey. You've brought a friend with you tonight. How wonderful. There's lots to be done." She has a soft West Country accent.

"This is Harper. My husband."

"Husband?" Maria does a double take.

I waggle my ring finger.

"When did that happen? I didn't even know you were dating anyone."

Harper puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek. "It was love at first sight."

"But—"

"Vegas," I say as though that explains everything.

Maria gapes for a few seconds, then snaps her mouth shut and blinks. "Well. I hope you're happy together." She grasps Harper's hand with both of hers and shakes it heartily. "Lovely to meet you."

"And you."

"Don't break Bailey's heart."

Harper chuckles. "I wouldn't dream of it." From the way he's speaking, I assume Maria has tightened her grip on his hand. A lot.

"Good." She lets him go. "Are you all right to show Harper the ropes, Bailey?"

"Yes, of course."

"It's not very big," Harper says as I lead him into the shelter proper.

It's a room with an adjoining kitchen, which is basic but does the job, and camp beds. Two battered tables with mismatched chairs give a place to eat, drink, and chat.

"The shelter can take ten people overnight. It opens at nine and shuts at seven. People can come and go up until one a.m. Then we shut the door for the night." I hand him a clipboard with forms clipped to it. "We ask first-timers to fill in a registration form. Don't push it, though. Not everyone wants to answer personal questions."

I give Harper a moment to read the registration form.

"Name, GP, brief history. What do you do with this information?"

"We pass it on to the council in the hope they can provide support moving forward."

Harper nods thoughtfully. "Ten people."

"Yes."

"We passed more rough sleepers than that on the way here."

I clench my fist and press it against my thigh. "Yes."

"Did you use shelters like this?"

"Yes. When I could. I couldn't always get into them. Some people don't want to, but the worse the weather, the more demand there is. Tonight shouldn't be too bad. Temperatures have been above freezing for a couple of weeks, and there's no rain forecast."

"But the shelter will still be full?"

"Yes, but we won't have to turn as many people away."

Harper's mouth downturns, and his eyes shimmer.

"We offer everyone a hot meal, hot and cold drinks, and breakfast before they leave." I lead him to a series of plastic crates. "They can take a set of clean clothes, and we've got spare rucksacks if they need them. Each one has a sleeping bag, blanket, and a personal hygiene pack in it. They're pretty neat because they don't need water." I turn to face him. "Donations fund all this. We couldn't provide this service without that generosity."

Harper scans the room. "It doesn't feel like enough."

"This isn't the only shelter in London. There are more."

"Are there enough?"

I shake my head.

Harper sighs.

"We've got our first customer of the night."

"What do I do?" Panic flits through his eyes.

"Follow my lead, but most of all, be yourself. Some people are chattier than others, so don't be offended if someone asks you to leave them alone or tells you to fuck off."

"All right."

We spend the next few hours interacting with the men and women walking into the shelter. Some come for a cuppa and a chat with no intentions of staying the night.

Harper shadows me for the first hour, but after that, he flies solo. Miraculously, he helps Maria in the kitchen, even taking over making the brews at one point. Although I have to laugh when Grant, a regular in his sixties, tells Harper off for ‘drowning perfectly good tea in milk.'

As the shelter fills up, the stench of sweat and dirt becomes overpowering. A clean change of clothes and wash packs can't compensate for a lack of showering facilities or the fact that most people here haven't been able to get truly clean in weeks or months. When I slept rough, I got used to the smell. I doubt Harper is as immune to it as I am.

A couple of community support officers visit us around eleven. They stay and chat for a while, then bid us goodnight.

A young man, Max, is the last to claim a bed for the night. It's hard to tell how old he is beneath the dirt and grime. Younger than twenty, but I can't guess closer than that. His rucksack is tatty, so I ask Harper to show him where the new ones are. From a distance, I watch Harper help Max choose a rucksack and then show him what's inside. Max's eyes grow huge as he realises he's being given far more than a rucksack. Harper gets him a drink and a meal next, and they sit and talk at one of the tables. As their conversation goes on, Harper's eyes well up with tears. Damn, I want to go over and hug him, but it wouldn't be appropriate. Listening to the stories these men and women have to tell is tough. It drains me mentally and emotionally, especially when the tales are close to mine.

Maria and I have to turn people away, but not before giving them a drink and something to eat.

At one, we lock the doors and dim the lights so everyone can settle down for the night. Maria, Harper, and I stay awake. We clean up as quietly as possible and get as much ready for breakfast as we can.

By the time we're serving breakfast, I'm exhausted, so Harper must be dead on his feet. But damn, he still has a beautiful, caring smile. He still has the energy to chat and help clear up once everyone has left and we've shut the door for the day.

"Will we see you again?" Maria asks him as we prepare to leave.

"I think so."

I raise my eyebrows. Wasn't this a one-off?

"Well, I hope we do. You've been a great help tonight, even if you didn't make tea to Grant's liking."

"He told me I had it spot on this morning."

Maria laughs. "High praise indeed."

As we walk back to the tube, a few people still sleep in doorways, but the majority have gone, leaving little behind to suggest they were ever there. Harper is quiet, his wide-eyed wonderment from last night gone.

"Are you okay?" I ask when we get home.

He wraps his arms around me and buries his face against my shoulder. "Yes."

I embrace him and rest my chin on his hair.

"I hate thinking of you living like that."

"I don't anymore."

"No, but you did. You were lucky and got off the streets. How many people are less fortunate?"

"Too many."

"Exactly. I'll write the charity another cheque. A bigger one. They need bigger premises. They need to be able to take more people in."

I squeeze him tight. "You must be tired."

"Exhausted." He lifts his head, dislodging my chin, and cups my cheek. "Sleep with me? I want to be close to you."

I nod and let him lead me to his room. We shower together and then fall into bed naked. Harper pulls the quilt over us and lies facing me, stroking my cheek.

"I thought you were tired," I whisper.

"I am. So are you." He skims his thumb under my eye. "Your bags have bags."

"It was a long night."

"I don't know how you do it. It was draining, not because I stayed awake all night but because of the stories I heard. It was heartbreaking, Bay."

"It is, but it's also rewarding. We get regulars like Grant and see people get help to get off the streets. I need to help, Harper." My voice breaks. "I need to give something back. I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't received help. It's hard to describe how much difference having a warm, safe place to sleep makes. Even if it's only for one night."

"I can't imagine because this is all I've known." Harper gestures to the room. "I'm safe here in my ivory tower, writing cheques to charities to make myself feel good."

I stroke his jaw. "Harper."

"I'll do better." His voice is determined. "I'll do more to help."

"You've done plenty." I shuffle closer and give him a soft, slow, closed-mouth kiss.

We wrap our arms around each other and align our bodies. Our kisses become desperate and needy. We explore each other's bodies with our hands.

"I need to be close to you," I whisper.

"Same."

He rolls over, grabs the bottle of lube from his nightstand, and gives it to me. Then he presses his back to my chest and his arse to my groin. He twists his shoulders so we're able to kiss while I warm his arse up with my fingers. I take my time. Our kisses are slow but no less needy. He strokes my cock.

"You were amazing tonight." I kiss his neck and jaw, then find his lips again.

My heart has swollen to twice its normal size. No. Three times. Harper surprised me tonight. I'd expected him to bow out after an hour, but he hadn't. He'd stayed all night and helped as much as he could. He was wonderful. I'm lucky to have met him. When this is all over, when our marriage ends, I'll have the memories we've made together to hold on to. I whimper and kiss him fiercely.

"Bay?"

"I'm okay." So why am I sniffling? "Body tired. Head tired. Emotionally tired."

"Me too."

"I need you."

"Same."

Our lips fuse. I remove my fingers from his arse, cover my cock with plenty of lube, and guide it into his channel. Once I'm buried balls deep, I hug him tight and press my forehead against his shoulder.

"Harper." What's this feeling inside me that's threatening to burst out?

He hugs my arm against my chest. "I'm here, husband. I?—"

I sniff.

"Make love to me, Bay."

I damn near burst into tears but manage to hold them back. Spooning him, I rock my hips gently. We kiss and hold each other. I hook my arm under his knee and lift his leg so I can get deeper. Each thrust is long and slow and punctuated with a lingering kiss. My heart swells with each passing second. This man I've become entangled with is amazing in so many ways. I-I?—

I groan through my orgasm. Harper is quick to follow. Panting, we hold each other tighter than before.

"Stay," Harper says.

He didn't need to ask. I don't want to be anywhere else except by his side.