15. Liam

The salmon turned out edible, if on the dry side. I could have done a better job if I'd put it in the oven, but Adam's delight at cooking with a dash of magic outweighed any quibbles I might have had. Combined with rice and peas, the salmon also made for a healthier choice than last night's pizza.

We wrapped ourselves in blankets and ate on the terrace, the sinking sun casting the world in golden hues. "Not bad for your first try," I told Adam, and his laugh curled like the evening breeze.

"Get just a tad more stingy with your compliments and you'll turn into my dad."

"Uh." I levelled him with a flat stare. "Unless your family is a lot more messed up than even I think—doubtful."

Another laugh, softer this time as he glanced away and then back at me. "Fair point."

"Yeah." It felt like each time I looked at him, it got harder to stay away. I should, though. Shouldn't I?

‘I'm no one's secret. Not even yours.'

But maybe the lines I'd drawn were just lines in the sand. Maybe they were meant to be washed away by the incoming tide.

"So," I said after a beat that was measured by the distance between one wave and the next. "Turning thirty tomorrow, huh?"

Adam sipped from his wine, his profile edged in bronze. Resignation coloured his voice. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Why is this such a big deal in your family?" I drew the blanket tighter around me. "No one in mine cared when I turned thirty last December. I mean, sure—you've met my siblings, so of course there was teasing because they think they're a lot funnier than they are."

"In their defence," Adam said, "they actually are a bit funny. They're not giving Ricky Gervais a run for his money, granted, but they'd rock an open stage night at some low-key pub."

"Don't tell me you've been to one of those."

"A handful. Gale has some musician friends." Adam's smile reduced his eyes to squinty slits. "Problem is I don't like beer, but it's not the place for wine. So I always end up ordering whatever ale sounds reasonably fruity."

"How isn't it blatantly obvious to everyone that you're one hundred percent gay?"

Adam tucked a laugh into the folds of his blanket as a seagull sailed over our heads, destination anywhere.

"As for my family…" Adam ran a finger along the rim of his wine glass. "My dad was twenty-nine when they had me, my mum twenty-seven. My aunt and uncle were both twenty-nine when they had Christian. Cassandra is thirty, I'll be thirty tomorrow, and we're not even married yet."

"Times change," I told him, and he shook his head with a rueful sigh.

"Not in my family."

"Well, they don't own you. It's your life, Adam. I know you feel responsible, but there's a limit." What was I even trying to achieve? I knew he wouldn't suddenly change his mind and decide that he was done playing pinball to his father's expectations.

"Of course they don't, no." Adam's gaze drifted towards the horizon. "But I'm the only powerful mage of my generation, and that implies a certain responsibility."

"You make it seem like something you should apologise for."

He hesitated. "Not like…Not exactly. I just wonder sometimes whether me being born with all the power was why the others got short-changed."

"That's a load of crap, and you know it." I softened my tone. "Sure, yes, it's quite often that the firstborn of a generation is the most powerful—but not always, and either way, that's hardly your fault."

"I know. I know." He rubbed a hand down his face. "But it would be easier if at least it wasn't quite such a big gap. Like with Cassandra and her brothers, they're weaker than she is, yeah, but they're still more powerful than Gale and my cousins combined. I mean, the youngest is almost at Nova-level, like upper-scale Sun. And the other is a Blaze, so at least he's not…He's not a Spark."

I shouldn't have brought it up. The day had been beautiful and easy, and here I'd gone and ruined the mood by dragging family baggage into it.

"So Nathaniel Hartley is a Sun?" I asked lightly. "Laurie's a fan."

"Thought she's into Jasper Ashton?"

"She's capable of multitasking."

"Is she?" Adam's face brightened, if only a little. "Nathaniel is cute, I guess. A bit shy, though—don't think he'd be any match for your sister. Plus, Cassandra thinks he's gay, although I'm not so sure."

"Cute, huh?" I asked, and no, I wasn't jealous. That would be ridiculous.

"He's twenty." Adam made it sound like an obvious disqualifier. "Also, not my type."

"What is your type, then?" As soon as I asked, I knew I'd stepped right into a trap. Adam tilted his head with a smile that was so cheesy it deserved to be served on a platter.

"Three guesses," he said. "And the first two don't count."

I wasn't the type to blush, thank God, and aimed for an unimpressed tone of voice even as I fought an answering smile. "Other than me."

"But baby, you're all I see."

I fixed him with a patient look and waited, a strange blend of amusement and longing tugging me in two different directions. If only I didn't like him so fucking much. Whereas for him…Christ. Was I just his default choice, prompted by lack of alternatives? It didn't feel like it.

"Oh, fine." With a tiny sigh, he dropped the Casanova act and pursed his mouth in thought. "You know, I'm honestly not sure."

"Well, let's hear your celebrity crushes."

He snorted. "I kind of outgrew those a couple of decades ago. See Westley from ThePrincess Bride."

"Please, you must have entertained some teenage crushes." This was safer, less personal ground. I grinned at him over my wine glass. "Some singer? An actor? I was partial to One Direction for a while there."

"Really?" He looked at me as though his entire perception of me had just shifted sideways. "I thought you'd be way too cool for a boy band."

It tickled a laugh out of me. "I was seventeen, mostly in the closet, and they were cute as hell. Honestly, Harry Styles can still get it. Now—I gave you my embarrassing teenage crush, so it's your turn now."

Slowly, one corner of Adam's mouth hitched up. "Do porn actors count?"

Oh, I was going to regret this. So much. But…"Your teenage crush?"

"Nineteen is still a teenager." The other corner of Adam's mouth lifted, a touch of self-deprecation in his eyes. "I was very firmly in the closet, frustrated, and in need of an outlet. Don't judge."

"I'm not." I took a sip of wine as I studied him—his classically handsome features and the sparks of evening sunlight tangled in his dark hair. It would be so much easier if he was merely gorgeous, if the attraction went only skin-deep.

"Well. Now that I think about it, there was one, uh…actor. Let's say I was rather partial to him." Adam's voice gained a playful lilt. "Tall, messy brown hair, great smile. So perhaps I do have a type after all."

Bloody hell.

"So you were crushing on some porn fantasy right as I was crushing on you?" I asked, then paused. "To be fair, I was tall and brown-haired at the time, yeah. Not so sure about the great smile given I was pretty much a bundle of insecurities back in school."

Adam leaned back with a small frown, voice low. "Weren't we all."

"You hid it well," I told him. "Always seemed like you owned any room you walked into."

"I'm a good actor." He said it without pride—just stating a fact. "Maybe there's my alternate career path."

"I'd watch whatever you're in." True if a tad too honest, so I continued quickly. "But really, what would you be?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you weren't who you are."

"Oh." A slow blink. "I don't know. I've never thought about it, I guess."

And that, right there, might be the downside of being born a Nova—your future wasn't up for discussion. You served your family, seeking to elevate their status by whatever means necessary and legal. Or at least tolerated.

"I'd be an engineer," I said. "Climate tech, maybe?"

"Now there's a surprise." His tone implied the opposite, and he tagged a smile onto the words before turning serious. "I'd be…I'd like to work with people. All sorts of people. Like…refugees and politicians and entrepreneurs. Maybe lead a non-profit. Work for something I actually believe in rather than just furthering my family's power and making more money than we could possibly need."

I'm half in love with you.

I sat with the thought for a beat, then let it go. "Yeah, I could see that. You'd be great at it."

"Thank you." It was a soft murmur, Adam's gaze on me for another slow blink before he looked away. The rhythmic sound of the sea was a peaceful backdrop as comfortable silence fell along with the leisurely arrival of night.

* * *

The morning sun woke me.No nightmares, just a sweet drift into awareness, the backs of my lids painted a cheerful orange.

There was no sign of Adam yet when I made it downstairs, so I set about preparing a lavish breakfast. Oh, sure, he intended to simply ignore his birthday, but I had no such plans. If his family wasn't going to make him feel special, well, I didn't mind stepping up. I was kindly assisted by approximately three garden centres' worth of flowers from Cassandra and a chocolate cake from Gale, both delivered by a discreet Hartley employee. A note from Cassandra said the man could be trusted.

By the time Adam made it downstairs, the table on the terrace looked like a florist's Instagram account had thrown up all over it. Gale's cake sat at the centre, and I'd boiled eggs and cut up fruit. Adam paused in the doorway, sleep still tucked into the corners of his eyes.

"I thought I told you not to make it into a big deal?" The question contradicted the light in his eyes.

"Yeah." I shrugged. "But you didn't actually expect me to listen, did you?"

"I guess not." He wandered closer, and fuck, it was the morning of his thirtieth birthday and he was here, with me. I closed the gap between us and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, Adam."

Sleepy warmth and a subtle, woodsy scent that was starting to feel familiar. He nestled his head into the crook of my shoulder, and for a few moments, we simply stood there, one of his hands cradling my neck, our chests pressed together. When he stirred, I brushed a kiss against his cheek and stepped away.

"Thank you," he said, an unusual translucence in his voice. "For all this."

"It's the least I can do. Although"—I nodded my chin at the table—"I should mention that the flowers are from Cassandra and the cake from Gale. I assume he knows you're not turning twenty-nine?"

Adam glanced at the glittering number on the cake and grinned, a tinge of sadness in the curve of his mouth. "Yeah, he knows. He also knows I was dreading this a bit, so…"

"That's for another time," I told him. "Today, it's all about having fun, okay? Breakfast first, then we'll do a boat tour to see some seals, and for dinner, I reserved us a table at an Italian restaurant."

"Wow. That's…" Adam cleared his throat, smile a tad wobbly. "Thank you. You didn't have to do all that."

"I know." Something sweetly heavy sat in my stomach. I let my hand rest on his shoulder. "Now, I would offer to make coffee, but I know you'd only pour it down the drain. So how about you make it, and then we have some cake?"

"Sounds like a deal." Adam hesitated. Then he leaned in for another hug and a fleeting, whisper-light touch of our foreheads before he turned towards the kitchen. I picked my stupid heart off the ground and followed.

Breakfast spanned nearly two hours along with, somehow, us getting into my relationship history. Adam brought it up because he claimed he deserved to live vicariously through me.

"I had a total of two boyfriends," I told him, "and neither lasted longer than six months. I'm no authority on the subject."

"That's still two more than me." He speared a bite of chocolate cake, watching me with keen attention. "How come they didn't last longer? I guess hiding your magic would have put a damper on things."

That was the convenient excuse I'd given my family when they'd asked why neither of my exes had warranted an introduction. Hey, maybe I'd made them up? Because let's face it, who'd want to date a total loser like me?

Ah, yes. Siblings—always there to check your ego.

"Honestly?" I took a sip of coffee. It was excellent as always, the milk foam embellished with a leaf pattern, and oh, I wouldn't mind this kind of treat on the regular. "That's what I told my family and George, yeah—remember how he was on my case about partying too hard and studying too little in uni? So, yeah. He's this steady, calm bloke who will absolutely find a great woman to marry, and they'll grow old and grey together. Meanwhile, I seem to get bored after just a few weeks with the same guy. Hiding my magic had nothing to do with it."

Adam dipped his head and shot me a look from underneath his lashes, a strange half-smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "So if things were different with us, it'd be just a few weeks until you'd want to get rid of me? I mean, ouch."

"I wouldn't get bored with you." The words came out too quick and honest. I wished I could take them back.

Adam stared at me for a second, eyes dark. Then he blinked. When he spoke, his voice was so low that I had to lean in a little. "How do you know?"

Because it's you.

I looked away. "Because I've already spent more time with you than I did with both my exes combined. And I only seem to like you more for it."

"Maybe you didn't pick them very well."

"They were perfectly nice guys. Fit, too. But—and this is probably going to sound arrogant, yeah?" I pursed my mouth. "But they just didn't…I don't want someone nodding along with everything I say. They just didn't keep me on my toes."

Adam didn't immediately respond. "You're one of the smartest people I know. Me, I'm…I've always been more interested in the practice than in the theory. I got good grades, yeah, but I had to work for them."

"Stop selling yourself short," I told him. "You're smart."

"Not compared to Gale. Or you."

"You are," I insisted. "Also, you're people-smart. Like, you get people in a way I don't. Frankly, you like people in a way I don't."

"Most people," he corrected with a quirk of a grin. "I didn't like you very much, for a while there."

I shot him a full smile. "Oh, honey—it was mutual."

"The sex was good, though," he said thoughtfully, an impish gleam in his eyes. For a fragmented second, my mind flashed to the two of us on my bed, his magic caressing my inner thighs. I'd already liked him then.

"Or maybe your standards are low." I didn't quite achieve the deadpan tone I aimed for.

"Burn." He brought a hand to his chest. "I was educated by the best of what the porn industry had to offer, just so we're clear."

"Thought you prefer the practice?"

His quiet laugh dissolved the tension that stretched between us. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"If you walk into a gay bar looking like that?" I indicated his general being. "Trust me—lack of choice will be the least of your problems."

"I have," he said. "A couple of times. Only, you know, sticking to the shadows and hiding my face. Could hardly be open about it, right? Just, though…I don't think it's really my scene. Grinding up against strangers in the dark, music so loud you have to shout at each other."

"People aren't really there for the stellar conversation," I said.

"Yeah." He studied me, fingers absently playing with his fork. "So that's what you do, then? Hit a bar, find some guy to hook up with?"

"Not in a while." This felt dangerous—too raw, too close to how I hadn't even thought about anyone else since that day in his office. "Been rather busy, as you know."

He nodded slowly, a twist to the curve of his mouth that I couldn't quite read. "Yeah, I guess we both have been. It won't always be like this, though. Things should settle down for us once construction is really underway, so you'll have more time."

"I wasn't complaining," I told him gently.

His eyes found mine. "So you don't miss it?"

"No."

He didn't reply—just looked at me as though he'd run out of words.

I glanced away first. Took another sip of coffee and let my gaze drift to the horizon even as my attention stayed with Adam. The brightest thing in my mind, always.

* * *

We wentfor a lunchtime run along the shoreline to get in some movement. The boat tour started at four, the sea a canvas of shimmering silk as we left the harbour. Ten minutes later, we reached a sheltered river, home to a colony of seals in an unusual array of coppers and browns. They were basking on the mudflats or feeding on fish—a tough life, clearly, but someone had to live it.

"Excuse you," Adam said when I shared the thought, laughter swinging in his voice. "Cassandra made me work hard for this body. I'm not going to envy a bunch of floppy, blubbery water creatures just because they get to lounge in the mud all day."

All right, that was fair.

After the tour, we wandered around the harbour area, weekend visitors and art stalls creating a lively vibe. Many of the wares were geared towards tourists like us, London escapees who might fall prey to impulse purchases in the form of kitschy sunset depictions and hand-painted tea mugs with seagulls perched on the handles. A tiny dog in a life jacket was barking at the waves while a street musician serenaded a small crowd that included a lobster held aloft from a seafood stall.

At one of the booths, Adam deliberated over a simple, elegant leather bracelet. I talked him out of it only to double back when he was taking a pee. It didn't occur to me until halfway through our dinner at a low-key Italian place, the bracelet weighing in my pocket, that I'd never done anything like this for my exes. I'd never wanted to.

For an instant only, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes turned my stomach. Then everything settled.

Okay. Okay. I was done fighting this.

"Hey." I laid down my cutlery and reached into my pocket. "I got you something."

"You did?" His lips curved up. "You shouldn't have."

I smiled back. "If you really meant it, you wouldn't be looking at me like that."

Tilting his head, he raised one eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like…" I hesitated, my fingers tracing the bracelet's leather texture. Around us, there was the clatter of dishes and the murmur of other diners, but Adam was watching me like none of it mattered. I drew a breath. "Like I'm daylight."

"Daylight." It was slow and thoughtful, at odds with the softness caught in Adam's eyes.

I wasn't the poetic type—just like I wasn't the type to buy a bracelet for a guy, leather or otherwise. My throat hurt a little. "You look at me like I'm the brightest thing in the room. But I could be projecting."

For a second, Adam didn't react. He didn't even blink, still as a statue as he stared at me.

I drew another breath, my lungs too tight. "So maybe I am projecting." The words twisted sharply in my chest.

"You're not. Jesus, Liam." Adam dropped his cutlery and leaned forward. Then he seemed to remember we were in public and glanced around. No one paid us any mind. "You're not," he repeated, much more quietly. "Not even a little."

Oh.

I swallowed, the band around my ribs loosening. "Good."

Adam's chest rose on an intake of air. With our table set further back from the windows, the fading light emphasised the cut of his jaw, brought out darker hues in his autumn eyes. "But," he said softly, "nothing's changed. I'm still…I'm still me."

"Yeah." I nodded. "But I've changed. Or rather, I've changed my mind."

Something moved behind Adam's eyes—sadness or frustration, I wasn't sure. He pushed his plate away, voice quiet but firm. "No. I can't let you do that."

I leaned back. "It's not your choice," I told him just as quietly. "You can't tell me not to change my mind when I already have. You can only choose not to take me up on it."

Low Italian music and the gentle buzz of conversations at other tables emphasised the silence that hung between us. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and exhaled, lashes swooping down to hide his eyes. "I don't want to be something you'll regret."

Fuck.

It felt a little like drowning—a radiant swell of affection trying to pull me under. I dug my fingers into my thigh. "I'd regret it more if I never got to have you."

He looked up, something like gentle desperation tugging at the corners of his mouth. A beat passed in utter stillness. Then his features softened for a tentative smile. "Have me? Please specify."

Going under.

I held his eyes. "Any way I can."

"Whatever I'm free to give, it's yours." It was no more than a murmur, blending into the shadows between us. Then a sudden frown washed over Adam's face. "This isn't just because you feel bad for me, right? Like, you said you got me something. This isn't what you meant, is it? It's not just because it's my birthday and you feel sorry."

"God, Adam—no." I leaned forward only to remember we were in public, my fingers just shy of brushing his. "It's not a favour, for fuck's sake. This is what I got you." I dug the bracelet out of my pocket and pushed it across the table.

He didn't say anything for a second, focus flicking from the bracelet back to me. It was like something in him broke apart, a glimpse of raw vulnerability that stained his voice in pastel shades. "Let's get the bill."

Yes, please.

"I've got it," I said quickly, and Adam shook his head even as his fingers closed around the bracelet.

"No, this one's on me."

"Says who?"

"Me."

I tipped up my chin. "But it's your birthday."

"Exactly." Adam's eyes narrowed, a stubborn tilt to his head. "So I make the rules."

"Dream on, love."

"Don't call me love if it's only to belittle me."

I grinned at him, my pulse steadying because this? This was familiar territory. "But you are so very little."

"Lies." Adam's lips hitched up at the corners, the lingering air of intensity dissipating. "Seems like a reminder is in order."

I lifted one shoulder and aimed for an unimpressed tone. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Who said anything about sleep?" he asked, low and sweet, the upwards curve to his mouth persisting. Briefly, my attention tripped over the curve of his jaw before I met his eyes again.

"Bill. Now."

"I love it when you speak Tarzan to me." The light words clashed with how his gaze clung to me. God, we must be so obvious to anyone who cared to look closely—but no one did, people around us busy with their own plates and lives. Adam fingered the bracelet before he clasped it around his wrist in a deliberate move designed to draw my eye.

"Thank you for this," he said, voice quiet. "I'm paying for dinner."

I considered arguing, then leaned back in my chair, bumping our feet together under the table. "As you wish."

His smile felt like a promise.