Trust (London Love #5)

“Ooh! Look! Bar stools! I can sit here in the evenings and watch you cook.” Overexcited much? Me?

I was trying to set the scene, make him see my brilliant vision.

“How about I sit here in the evenings and watch you cook?”

“Well, Reuben.” I pretend pouted. “I thought we agreed that you would be the hunter and gatherer and I would bring the glamour.”

“Glamour?”

“I’m very famous, you know.”

Agnes snorted. “I was just telling my boss about my new client, and he’d never heard of you. You’re not that famous, Gray.”

Told you. I liked Agnes.

“Your boss must be very poorly educated,” I snarked back and hopped up onto one of the bar stools, swinging my feet. “Do you think the owners would consider leaving these? I like them.”

“I have a full list right here of everything the owners are prepared to leave behind. Or include in the sale. They’re quite willing to accommodate some of your requests. Like to not throw that crappy rusty barbecue in a skip.”

“It’s not that shabby,” Reuben called from the veranda where he was bent over, looking underneath the barbecue. “I wouldn’t pay for it, but if they are leaving it behind…”

He was probably right. I wasn’t good at things like that, especially handling money. Buying furniture had been catastrophic last time. I had a sofa that had only ever been sat on by security guards, and I owned three bookshelves and not a single book. Go figure.

“Do you like it, though?” I asked. I was worried. Perhaps this was a big mistake. Another train passed at the back and everything shook.

“Blimey.” Reuben laughed, coming back inside. “How often do these trains run?”

“A couple of times an hour?” Agnes grimaced.

Oh.

“I like it,” Reuben said. I hoped he wasn’t just trying to placate me. Despite me acting like everything was great, he’d know how nervous I was. He did that. Read me like an open book.

“Come,” I said, jumping down from the stool to drag him downstairs.

“This is a completely self-contained flat. It’s got its own front door and everything. Your dad could live here quite happily. If that’s what he wanted. I know you worry about leaving him behind. Or it can just be part of the house. You could have your own space here. Or something?”

“He’s lived in that house all his life. His mum and dad rented it, and then Dad took over the contract. It’s not like he can just pack up and move. What if we break up? You gonna throw him out as well?”

“We’re not going to break up,” I assured him. “One step at a time. All I’m saying is, the offer is there. I’m moving in here, and you can come stay. Whenever you want. And then, maybe, you’ll stop going home. And maybe you’ll bring your dad for dinner. And one day, he might want to stay over, figure out that this might be a nice place to retir…”

Another train thundered past.

“You sure you bought a house in Marylebone and not Marylebone station? This isn’t Monopoly, you know.”

Oh, Reubs.

“As I said, your dad will need somewhere nice to retire. Have a bit of company.”

“Peace and quiet in his old age.” Reuben laughed. “He’d probably love it. Better than kids dealing outside his front door and his car getting scratched. He tried to plant a rose bush at the front once. Someone stole it the first night. He was fuming.”

“No wonder,” I said, tugging at his hand to continue the tour. “Garden. He could potter around. There’s a lawn too. It’s communal, though, so there’ll be kids running around out there some of the time.”

“Fuck that,” Reuben muttered, but he put his arms around me, his head resting against my shoulder. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It could work. I have money coming in. Not enough to splash out on a life of total decadence, but you work. I work. And we could just…live here. Come and go and laugh.”

“And you’d drive me mad, and my dad would drive us both mad, and then I would shout at you.”