Chapter 32

32.

Adrian pulled up outside Luca’s cottage and switched off the engine. He’d packed up early at the farmers’ market, just as he did every week, giving the prissy market superintendent a grin and a wave as he’d left, taking no notice of the man’s squawks that he was supposed to stay until the market officially closed.

Picking out the key Luca had given him, Adrian smiled as he pushed it into the lock. Luca was working from home today, out of the way of the maintenance team who was doing something or another in his office. Calling in was off the cuff. His smile morphed into a grin. Perhaps it was time for Luca to take a break, a little RR… Adrian’s dick twitched and fattened, and he adjusted himself, easing the tight pressure, as he stepped inside and closed the door.

Luca had a small home office, and Adrian poked his head around the door. The room was empty, the chair pushed tight into the desk, the laptop on top of it closed. Adrian snorted. So much for working at home. Back in the hallway, Adrian had taken no more than a couple of paces when he stopped and sniffed, his brow creasing. Luca’s expensive lemon cologne was light in the air, but there was something wrong with the fresh scent he was so familiar with. Not one scent, but two, the second heavier, richer. He sniffed again. It was familiar, but he didn’t like it. Too cloying, almost sticky.

Ahh… Perhaps he wouldn’t be surprising Luca after all. Alex was here, the two of them discussing hotel business before lapsing into chit chat, the way friends did.

Embarrassment twisted in his gut. He’d not seen Alex since that night, after the festival. Adrian grimaced. He’d been a prick, and no doubt that was how Alex would always see him, and with justification. Perhaps he should leave as quietly as he’d arrived.

Turning towards the door, he hesitated.

No. Luca had given him a key to come and go as he wished. And besides, creeping out felt wrong and cowardly. He had to face Alex at some point, even if it did make him want to squirm.

Voices, muffled by the cottage’s thick walls, came from the kitchen diner. Adrian pasted a smile on his face.

“Luca? I was on my way back to the farm but I thought…” He stared from the doorway leading into the kitchen. That cloying, heavy cologne, the one he recognised but couldn’t place. Not Alex, but Jonathan.

Talk stopped, sliced through with a knife, neither man moving as they stared up at him.

“Adrian.”

Luca jumped up from the sofa in the dining area, breaking the heavy stillness, leaving Jonathan lounging back into the cushions, a polite but chilly smile on his face. Sweeping his fingers through his hair, Jonathan’s smile never once wavered.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you. You said you were going straight back to the farm.” Luca squeezed his arm.

“Thought I’d surprise you.”

“Adrian…”

He dragged his attention from Jonathan, and met Luca’s steady gaze, unwavering and challenging. Adrian exhaled, ragged and unsteady.

“I’ve been having a sort out,” Jonathan said, his voice over loud and oozing confidence, “because I’m having the house redecorated. Much needed and long overdue, because I was thinking of selling. Charming though Love’s Harbour is, it really is a little too out of the way and rather too rural.” His brows creased in annoyance. “The internet constantly dropping out can make life here somewhat difficult.”

“So you’re going back to London?” Adrian’s hard, stiff smile, still stuck to his face, softened and relaxed. Good. When are you leaving? The question tingled on his tongue.

“No. Or not quite. My consultant role is demanding more time in London, so thank goodness I didn’t sell up and cut all my ties there. I still have my house in Kensington, which of course is very handy for Harrod’s. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d miss the bustle and energy of the metropolis quite as much as I do. I’ve decided to keep the place here as a weekend getaway. I have, after all, made some good friends.”

Jonathan smiled at Luca, and Adrian swallowed the growl clawing at his throat.

“I called in because I found a couple of books I’d borrowed from Luca some time ago.” Jonathan nodded to the kitchen table, where a couple of thick paperbacks sat next to a heavy brown paper bag. “I was intending to leave them with a little note, not expecting Luca to be home, but he was, and it’s been super catching up.” Jonathan threw another smile Luca’s way, before picking up his mug from the coffee table and taking a slow sip.

“Now you’ve returned them, we wouldn’t want to keep you from your day.”

“Oh, you’re really not?—”

“Adrian, I invited Jonathan in for coffee. To say thank you, for returning my books.”

Jonathan smiled at Luca, before switching his attention to Adrian. “I’ve deliberately kept the day free.” He reached forward and plucked up a biscuit from the plate in the middle of the coffee table, and turned to Luca. “Vegan biscuits from the hotel’s kitchen, you said? They really are delicious, and they go terribly well with the coffee, which is a Guatemalan roast if I’m not mistaken.”

“I’m not sure, Adrian bought?—”

“That’s right. Very well spotted, Jonathan.” Top fucking marks. “In which case, can I get you another?” Keeping his voice steady and his stiff smile in place, Adrian forced himself to be the polite co-host.

“Why not? Black. No sugar.”

Adrian nodded. With his back towards both Luca and Jonathan, he closed his eyes for a second.

Jonathan was deliberately winding him up. He knew it, Jonathan knew it, but Adrian wasn’t sure if Luca did. Much as he wanted to kick the man out on his arse, he could play along. Just as long as the game didn’t go on for too long.

As he made the coffee, he tuned in to the conversation going on behind him. Jonathan’s new furniture and colour schemes — maybe Luca would like to call around to the house and take a look at his choices and give his valued opinion?

No fucking way.Adrian ground his teeth hard, his jaw stiffening. The guy was winding him up, that was all. And it was working. He needed to get a grip, not react to the man’s prodding and poking because to do so would be both senseless and irrational. But Jonathan’s presence, sitting next to Luca and prattling away about fucking home décor had nothing to do with either good sense or reason as it wormed into his primitive lizard brain.

Because this wasn’t about Jonathan Owen-Jones.

Unlocking his jaw, but unable to plaster another fake smile on his face, Adrian turned around. Handing over the coffee, Jonathan barely had time to take it before a message pinged into his mobile.

Jonathan’s brows scrunched hard. “It’s the decorator. He’s fouled up, because I specifically ordered Warm Terracotta, but he’s claiming he’s only been able to get hold of Tuscany Sunset. They really are not the same colour.”

“Aren’t they both just dark orange? Bit gloomy, I’d have thought. I see you more as a magnolia kind of man.” Adrian grinned, the only genuine expression to break out on his face since he’d walked into the room. Screw it, he was fed up pretending.

Jonathan pressed his lips together as he got up and turned his back on Adrian.

“I’m terribly sorry Luca, but I must go. Believe me, it was good to see you again.”

“Yes, I’m glad we were able to?—”

“Jonathan, let me see you out. There’s a decorating disaster to head off.”

Jonathan picked up his pristine Barbour from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and shrugged it on. “Luca. Perhaps another coffee sometime? In the village? You know where I am. I can see myself out,” he said, throwing a glance at Adrian. Seconds later the front door closed with a thud.

The silence was deafening, as Adrian’s blood whooshed and whistled in his ears.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing? How dare you treat a guest — any guest — like that, somebody I invited into my home.” Luca’s voice, hard and tight, cut through the white noise in Adrian’s head.

“What the hell was he doing here?”

“To return my books. Just as he said.”

“For a man you rejected, he was making himself very much at home.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Adrian. I never rejected him as a friend. I made that clear, to him and you.” Luca jabbed his finger towards Adrian. “And you know what? I was glad he called round, because before we started talking about decorating, and his consultancy, we were talking about the guy he’s started seeing in London — yes, really, because that’s the real reason he’s going to be spending most of his time back there. We also cleared the air between us. And that makes me feel so much better. Or that’s how I was feeling, until you started.” Luca crossed his arms over himself. It was a self-protection gesture, but Luca stood his ground as he glared.

“He was deliberately winding me up.”

“It really doesn’t take much, does it?”

Adrian thrust his fingers through his hair, tightening his hands into fists. “When it comes to him, no, it doesn’t. I wish he was moving away for good, back to Kensington with its easy access to bloody Harrod’s. I’m glad he’s not going to be here much, because I hate seeing that man anywhere near you.”

Luca’s eyes blazed. “I’m not going to filter who I can be friends with. Don’t you dare tell me to do that.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Aren’t you? Because that’s exactly how it sounds to me.”

“No. Seeing him here, knowing how much he wanted you?—”

“That’s right. Wanted, not wants. His life’s moved on, just as mine has. I thought yours had, too. But it hasn’t, has it? I’m not even sure any longer that you’re capable of moving forward.”

Adrian’s arms dropped to his side. Ice crystals formed in his blood.

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“Sam,” Luca whispered. His anger spent, he sounded sad and resigned. “All this rage you’re holding on to, seeing things that aren’t there. None of it’s got anything to do with Jonathan, because it’s all about Sam, and a man you’ve never named, a man you believed was your friend. Don’t deny it, Adrian. To yourself or to me.”

“I—” Adrian’s throat closed, cutting off the denial he knew was a lie. Staggering to the sofa, he slumped down onto it as his legs buckled beneath him.

“Gregory.” The name he’d vowed he’d never say again, it fell from his tongue, scalding and blistering.

“Adrian, for god’s sake. How many times can I tell you that I’m not Sam? And Jonathan certainly isn’t… him. Gregory.” Luca sat down next to Adrian.

“I know you’re not, but?—”

“You tell yourself that but you don’t really believe it, do you? If you don’t believe, how can I? You look at me, but who you see is Sam. You look at Jonathan, and you see Gregory. All you can see, wherever you look, is betrayal and deceit. It hurts like hell, I get it, but shit happens. It happens to everybody in one way or another.

“Do you think you’re unique in that? Because let me tell you, you’re not. You’re part of the same herd as the rest of us. When a relationship fails you have to move on, no matter how hard it is, no matter how painful. But you haven’t, because all you’re doing is glaring out at the world and waiting for the next big betrayal. You’re waiting for me to betray you.”

“That’s not true. But Jonathan, he?—”

“Stop.” Luca raised his hand, palm out as though pushing him away. “Just stop. Right now. I don’t want to talk about Jonathan because there’s no point. And shall I tell you why there isn’t? It’s because you don’t trust me, no matter what you tell me and what you tell yourself. You don’t trust me because you can’t. Until you can find it in yourself to finally confine Sam and Gregory and yes, Richard as well, to the past, along with all the anger and heartbreak, you’ll never be able to look to the future.

“God knows I love you, Adrian, but until you show some faith in me, and trust in yourself, I don’t see how there’s a way forward for us.”