Chapter Eight

While Heath slept, Tristan made them something to eat. He’d only intended to stay at Fabian’s place long enough to get his head into some sort of order and to give Grant time to remove himself and all his belongings from the home they’d shared. A muscle twitched in his cheek when he thought about how badly he’d misjudged his relationship with Grant.

Am I too trusting? Na?ve? Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He was having fun with Heath, but that was all, no matter what thoughts he might have had about this being the start of something. That was lust talking. This was just a break from the rut he’d got into. Heath was in the same position. They were both on the rebound and helping each other out, soothing hurts, making each other see there was still fun to be had, and yet… Could there be more?

No! Be resolute. He liked Heath. But… It was too soon to jump into a bed that might turn out to be another patch of quicksand.

Am I going to judge everyone by what happened with Grant?

He knew he shouldn’t. But he’d been hurt and that made him wary. Tomorrow, Tristan would go home. He might have shut down the business for the Christmas break but there was always something to do. He’d bury himself in work and in the New Year, he could make a fresh start.

Maybe he could see Heath again when he came to London.

Oh God. How come I’m so indecisive?

Heath emerged from the bedroom dragging his fingers through his hair. All he wore were tight-fitting boxers covered in cartoon reindeer. Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer was well positioned.

That’s why I’m so indecisive. Heath was delightful. Grant wouldn’t have been seen dead in boxers like that. Once upon a time, Tristan would have worn them. I still can. It’s not too late. He was being an idiot, ignoring what was in front of him. Heath already knew him better than Grant ever had, or had even tried to. Grant represented the lifestyle Tristan thought he wanted, or maybe thought he should have wanted. He wasn’t very sociable but he didn’t have to be. He knew now what made him happy. Not what—who.

“What’s cooking?” Heath asked.

“Pumpkin-filled ravioli with a pesto sauce. Thank you for buying it. Ready to eat?”

“Yep.”

They snuggled together under a blanket on the couch while they ate, watching a long film about ice hockey set in a small town, the violent conclusion of which stunned them into silence. It wasn’t often films ended on such a down note.

“We need something funny now or we’ll never get to sleep,” Heath said.

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Nine of those. Jaws 1,2,3,4? Halloween 1 to 13?”

“Oh yes, any of those will have me holding my sides and howling with laughter. And I have to say I’m a little disturbed that you appear to know how many there are of each. Accurate or a guess?”

“Accurate.”

“I’m on your team in the pub quiz!”

“What would you bring to the team?”

“Expert knowledge of the physical geography of the UK and the mating habits of birds.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows. “All birds?”

“Test me.”

“Parrots.”

“The only animals who appear to enjoy kissing as much as humans. White-fronted parrots lock their beaks then flick their tongues back and forth. Sounds cute but the male regurgitates his food into the female’s mouth as a form of affection. What could be more romantic than ending a kiss by vomiting into your mate’s mouth?”

“Oh God. I wish I hadn’t asked.” Tristan laughed.

They finally settled on The Princess Bride because it had been a long time since either of them had seen it.

“I’ve watched this more times than even a gay man should admit to, courtesy of Stef,” Heath said. “I have two favourite bits. One where Prince Humperdinck says ‘Surrender’ to Westley and Westley follows up with something like… And I’m going to use his voice. ‘You wish to surrender to me? I accept’.”

Tristan chuckled. “What’s your other favourite bit?”

“When the grandfather says there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure, and the one between Princess Buttercup and Westley was the best. I’ve always wondered about those other kisses.”

“Marc and Kay in Free Fall ? ”

“It was violent.”

“It started off that way but… Still hot.”

“Ennis and Jack in Brokeback Mountain ?”

“Their desperation was off the scale. What about Elio and Oliver ?”

Heath groaned. “Yes. That was passionate.” He climbed on top of Tristan. “I feel the need to stake my claim on a position on the list. I promise not to vomit.” Then he kissed him.

Lust had a very strong hold and neither of them much cared.

Maybe Tristan wouldn’t go home tomorrow. Maybe he’d just wait to see where this went. It had been a long time since he’d kissed so much, been kissed so much. Probably since he was a teenager. The two of them were all smiles and whisper-soft touches and enquiring tongues and they didn’t need words, didn’t even need full-on sex. Anticipation was everything.

Heath pulled the bedsheets out of the tumble drier—yet again. If they ran out of laundry tablets, they really were going to have to put on some clothes and go out. Though that wasn’t all they needed to buy. He didn’t have just-in-case condoms and he’d not seen any when he’d cleaned the place up. He felt as if just-in-case was quickly developing into sooner-rather-than-later.

Tristan took the sheets from his arms. “I’ll help you make the bed.”

“Fine, but no more of the—oooh it feels so warm and cosy, why don’t we just get back into bed right now—malarky.”

Tristan laughed and Heath smiled because he knew damn well that was likely to happen and he wasn’t going to say no .

Heath put on the pillowcases because he knew Tristan didn’t like doing that. Well, he hadn’t last time they’d changed the bed linen. Tristan lay on his back watching him. If he wasn’t touching him, he was watching him, as though he thought Heath would disappear if he didn’t keep his eyes on him. Heath didn’t want to go anywhere, but he needed to look for another job and somewhere to live. Big things but he kept putting them off. Though was there really any point doing anything before the New Year? All he wanted to do was spend time with Tristan.

They went to sleep entwined in each other’s arms and woke the same way. Four days spent playing with each other, only interrupted by eating and sleeping and talking—though not about anything very personal. Heath had told Tristan about Diego but he had no idea about Tristan’s past and what had brought him to his brother’s flat.

They’d not left the flat since they’d shared a bath together, not worn more than underwear—and that only occasionally, though Heath had worn his eyeliner, especially after Tristan told him how much he loved it. Heath had even put it on Tristan. Now he knew that was a way to very hot sex.

When they weren’t in bed, they were mostly lying on the couch wrapped in a fleecy blanket. But they were running out of food, along with getting closer and closer to fucking, so someone had to go out.

He wondered if Tristan had a job he should be going to, but somehow talking about stuff like that didn’t happen. Certain topics were definitely off the menu. No chatter about jobs, homes, families, what had led Tristan to slob out here. To be fair, most of Heath’s history stayed in a locked box too. He felt as if revealing any of his sad mess of a life would spoil what they had. He wanted to be happy and upbeat, so he had to be careful what he said. Presumably Tristan felt the same. It was as if they were living in a bubble. Nothing wrong in that, except wonderful as bubbles were, they were also fragile and eventually popped.

Tristan had talked about one or the other of them going shopping. Heath didn’t miss that he didn’t seem to want them to go together. Maybe it was too couple-y and they weren’t a couple. Well, only in the flat. Heath knew he needed to begin steeling himself for the moment when they parted. Tristan probably had plans for Christmas. He had a family and Heath didn’t. Heath should be gathering his armour, readying to slide it into place along with his expression when Tristan called time. If he hoped for too much, he’d end up disappointed. He knew the score.

But a requirement for food finally made them toss for who went out.

Tristan was the one who had to put clothes on.

Heath groaned. “It’s like a sexy reverse striptease. Hurry back and then you can do a proper striptease. I’ll find some appropriate music. Something like Jesus Loves Me or The Wheels on The Bus. ”

“Or?”

“ I Want It That Way. ” Then he gulped. “The Backstreet Boys. Before my time but…”

“And which way is that?” Tristan asked. “My fire or my heartache?”

Heath’s throat closed up. He could have asked Tristan the same question. Instead, he blurted, “Do you have the list?”

Tristan took out his phone. “Condoms, bread, condoms, beer, lube, condoms, cheese, condoms, cheesy biscuits, cheesy condoms…”

Heath laughed. “Hurry.”

Oh God, were they actually going to go all the way?

When the entrance intercom buzzed about twenty minutes after Tristan had left, Heath wondered why he hadn’t let himself in. He pressed the button to release the door downstairs and opened the door of the flat, then a sudden realisation that this might not be Tristan sent him rushing for the bedroom and his boxers. He’d just pulled them and his trousers on when he heard someone call “Fabian?” Eek. Not Tristan.

Heath zipped himself up and pulled on a T-shirt before he padded into the main room. The guy in front of him was tall, blond, slim and elegant. He wore a pale grey suit and a white shirt, and was carrying a grey woollen coat. Landlord? Mr GQ looked immaculately groomed, and that included the haughty expression on his face. Rich, posh and a twat. Not that Heath was into making snap judgements. Ha!

“Fabian’s not here,” Heath said.

“I really wanted his brother.”

Oh shit. Heath felt as if he’d swallowed a stone. After four days of feeling wanted, feeling important to someone, all his insecurities returned to bite him on the backside hard enough to leave toothmarks.

“Tristan?” Heath asked. Because maybe there were more brothers. He had no idea.

“Yes, it’s Tristan I’m looking for. I’m Grant, his fiancé. Oh, there’s my ring.” The guy strode over, grabbed the box from the mantelpiece and opened it.

Heath’s knees wobbled. The stacked-up fantasy of the last four days, which had gradually morphed to him and Tristan having sex the moment he got back from the shops, then spending Christmas together, moving in together and spending the rest of their lives together—Heath had always longed for a happy ever after—teetered like a badly built stack of bricks and began to topple.

Grant put on the ring and walked back to wave his hand in front of Heath. “Between you and me, I’ll have to change it for something more stylish. Tristan has appalling taste.”

Yes, if he proposed to you. Damn right he does! But then he’d made Heath feel… Oh bloody hell.

“That’s a rather unkind thing to say,” Heath said. “The ring’s lovely.”

“Hmm.” The sneer on Grant’s face showed his opinion on that.

Stupefied and disappointed as Heath felt, he had enough brain power to realise something wasn’t quite right. “If you’re engaged, why weren’t you wearing the ring? I don’t think it’s the done thing to just help yourself.”

“I told Tris I wanted to think about it. It was such a shock when he sprang it on me.”

Tris? Heath hadn’t shortened his name. He hadn’t thought to.

“I wanted to give him the chance to ask again and make a better job of it.”

Christ! What an arsehole!

One thought kept tapping at Heath’s brain, that while Tristan had asked if Heath was in a relationship, Tristan hadn’t said he wasn’t. Heath had filed that away without enough consideration, and now it was out of the box and standing right in front of him. All arrogant, gorgeous six feet of it. Still a twat.

“I needed time to think,” Grant said. “Would you say yes if someone sprung a proposal on you?”

Much as Heath still had a no guy lurking inside him, if someone he loved proposed to him, of course the answer would be yes.

“Grant?”

Heath saw Tristan in the doorway, his tanned face noticeably pale.

“Darling!” Mr Immaculate flung himself into Tristan’s arms and the bags Tristan had been carrying fell to the floor. Heath winced when he heard something crack, or maybe that was his heart breaking. Though he didn’t miss that Tristan’s arms still hung by his sides. He wasn’t hugging Mr I’m-so-wonderful.

“Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes, I will marry you.” Grant pressed his lips to a mouth that not so long ago, Heath had stupidly thought might belong to him, just for a while, at least. He turned away.

You’ve known him for a matter of days, idiot.

The pain in his heart was horrible, as if an animal had crawled down his throat and was clawing at him. Funny how this pain seemed worse than that caused by Diego. His Christmas hopes evaporated.

“I wanted to give you time to ask me more privately,” Grant said. “Then I thought, what am I doing? My answer is yes.”

Of course it was. Why would anyone say no to Tristan? “I’ll just pack,” Heath mumbled and headed for the bedroom.

“No,” Tristan said. “This is an important no, Heath! Please. I don’t want you to go.”

Heath turned round.

Grant’s eyes were glittering and not with anything nice, no magic unicorn sprinkles of sweet happiness, just angry irritation. “Yes, do go, Heath. Tristan and I have been a couple for ages. Our parents are friends. His parents use our home in the Cayman Islands for their holidays. They’re fucking there now .”

“Oh. Do you have cameras on them?” Heath quipped.

But Tristan winced, rather than smiled.

Heath wished Grant’s sneer got stuck on his face. What a complete dick.

“My father’s going to invest in Tristan’s company. Our lives are entwined and have been for a long while. The two of us need to talk. On our own.”

Heath needed Tristan to tell him to stay—again.

Grant looked Heath up and down. “How could you think he’d want you?”

Oh God. That hurt. “Is there any need to be so rude?” Heath said quietly. “I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Breathing my air is enough.”

“Shut up, Grant,” Tristan snapped.

“Why wouldn’t Tristan want me?” Heath asked. He was actually interested in what Grant would say. Am I too short, too thin, too cheeky…?

“You want a list?” Grant glared at him. “Just look at the way you’re dressed…your hair…your—”

“Enough!” Tristan almost growled the word.

Heath blinked back the tears that threatened. A reminder not to ask for details he wasn’t going to be able to hear without getting upset. He wanted to grab his stuff and run, the ache in his chest told him to, but he curled his toes and stayed put.

“That was well out of order, Grant.” Tristan had stepped into Grant’s space. “Heath, you’re not going anywhere.”

Heath didn’t like being told what to do, but if the boot had been on the other foot and it had been Diego who’d just arrived, how would he feel if Tristan walked away without waiting to hear what Heath said? He’d go when Tristan told him to and not before.

“Come here.” Tristan turned and held out his hand.

Heath walked over and stood next to him. Tristan squeezed his fingers and Heath’s heart lurched in a comforting way.

“You’re not going anywhere. Grant is.” Tristan turned back to Grant. “I don’t want to be tied to your father’s company.”

“You wanted his investment.”

“I can manage without it.”

“But you wanted me,” Grant whispered.

“Once upon a time. Yes, I did. Except you said no. You laughed at me. So did your friends.”

“I didn’t laugh. It was nerves…surprise…shock. The coke. And I’d had too much to drink. Now I’ve had time to think…”

“It took you two weeks?”

“I didn’t know where you were. But my answer is yes. I want to marry you.”

“But I don’t want to marry you. My answer is no.”

Grant’s face cycled through a whole range of emotions, like one of those flicker books Heath had made when he was a kid. The final flick landed on anger. Grant yanked the ring from his finger and threw it. It just missed Tristan’s face.

“Then fuck off, loser.” Grant strode to the door and slammed it hard as he left. Lots of things in the flat rattled but nothing fell.

“Wow,” Heath muttered. “I regret putting my clothes on now. That would have shown him. Possibly. Unless he’s hung like a donkey.”

Tristan let out a choked laugh. “He isn’t. I’m sorry about that.” He picked up the ring.

Heath sighed. “I thought the ring was Fabian’s. I spotted it when I was cleaning. I’ve been practising how to look surprised when Stef tells me he’s proposed. Of course, now I think about it, it’s a bit of a masculine ring. Pretty, though you have appalling taste, apparently.”

“Oh God, do I?”

“No. Of course you don’t. You like me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then how can you possibly have appalling taste?” Heath smiled. “Grant is just yet another entitled dickhead in a world that sometimes seems to be full of them. Was he the reason the flat was a pigsty and why you were drinking?”

“In my defence, it wasn’t a palace when I arrived, but yes. Everyone assumed we’d get married. I think it made me assume it too. We’d talked about it and about our future. We’d been going out for… Well, none of that matters now. I got down on one knee at a party at his parents’ house and asked him to marry me in front of his friends and his response was to ask me if I was joking. I walked out.”

Heath squeezed his fingers.

Tristan sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so humiliated.”

“You didn’t get made to dress up for Halloween as a sperm whale then?”

He laughed and Heath took hold of his other hand.

“You should have told me,” Heath said.

Tristan stared into his eyes. “I didn’t want to look stupid.”

“He’s the stupid one, not you. Except, to be honest, maybe you were a bit stupid because what did you see in such an arrogant arsehole? Though, there is a bit of pot calling kettle black because I should have seen Diego was not right for me. Christ, we are both terrible judges of character. That’s not good news.”

“I’ve learnt my lesson.”

“Yes, because one look at a swamp monster wallowing in the bath and you forgot all about Grant.”

“I’ve had more fun the past few days than I ever had with him. No way would he have let himself be dressed up as a sperm whale.”

“I was only seven.”

“Not even when he was seven. He and I weren’t right for each other, but…I think we are.” He kissed Heath’s nose. “You and I were meant to find each other.”

Heath chewed his lip. “Even though I have half of another man’s name tattooed on my hip?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m thinking of changing my name to Tristan Diego McDonald. Want to add the rest either side of Die ?”

Heath laughed. “Liar.” He picked up two of the bags. “Let’s put the shopping away.”

“There’s ice-cream.”

“And?”

“Bread.”

“And?”

“Everything on the list.”

Heath gasped. “Oh my God! Cheesy condoms?”

“I failed on that. But I tried to make up for it.”

“Something cracked when you dropped the bag.”

“Probably the spaghetti.”

Heath took out five packets of condoms. “Did you have to go into five different chemists to buy all these?”

“No, I just told the shop assistant we’re having an orgy.”

“Oooh. Can I invite the Fleshlight?”

“No.”

Heath huffed. “Can we have an orgy when there’s only two of us?”

“I’m making the rules so yes.”

“One last thing.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows.

“What do you do for a living?” Heath asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Theoretically not, unless you’re a serial killer.”

“Only of ants. I do not like them in the house. Outside, fine but not inside.” He shuddered. “I run a green energy company. We’re developing better ways of capturing sunlight. Coatings on buildings, special roof tiles, fences, tops of lampposts, surfaces of vehicles, pool covers… Things like that.”

“Wow. And you wanted Grant’s father’s money?”

“It would have been useful but I knew it would also be a risk because he’d have planned to take control, then expand and sell. My company is small. I don’t have ambitions for it to be huge. We’re more into inventing and selling concepts than largescale manufacturing. I know all my employees and they know me. We like it like that. What about you? What do you do? What did you do?”

“Accountant for a large window cleaning company that had ambitions to become huge through franchising all over the UK, but whose owner has an inflated idea of the business’s value let alone his business acumen. Luckily for him, his father left him a lot of money when he died. Though he’s frittering it away. Probably on Diego.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“We have a lot of condoms to test drive. Want to see if I’m your fire or your heartache?”

“I already know the answer to that.”

Heath smiled.