Trust (London Love #5)

I had no more words.

“He’s a nice young man, grew up exactly the way you did. Went to school. Made stupid mistakes. Found a way forward.”

Like that was how I’d lived my pathetic shitshow of a life.

“We’re nothing alike,” I argued, sulking against the sofa cushions.

“You’re very alike. Big hearts. A bit insecure. Wanting so much but having no idea how to get there. He bought that house then?”

“I don’t know.” How old was I? Five?

“And you’re moving in with him?”

“NO!” Help! I buried my head in the cushion. Screamed. Well. Made weird, frustrated noises at least. “I don’t know. He… We… It’s a really nice house. Big. Central…has parking.”

I had to laugh. Gray and his bloody parking.

“And you’ll be paying him rent?”

“I…we haven’t even discussed this. I haven’t even said yes.”

“So you are going to stay here with your old man in the back end of Peckham until you’re forty and bald?”

“I’m never going to go bald. Neither are you. You have to get a haircut every two weeks or you look like a hobo.”

“True.” He laughed, scraping a spatula against the pan, the smell of bacon filling the room. I hadn’t even noticed he was cooking.

“You have to try these things.” He turned the heat down, grabbed two plates off the drying rack.

“It would probably be a massive mistake.”

“Fifty/fifty chance. Think about it. A nice house. Easy commute to work. Sharing space with someone you really like. You might be really happy.”

“Boyfriend.” I tried the word out again. “I think…Gray is my…boyfriend.”

“I know, Son,” Dad said, ripping a bag of bread open. “You want it toasted?”

“And that’s all you have to say about your only son, like…coming out to you? It’s a big thing!”

I was half joking. Perhaps. Maybe. My chest heaving.

“Yes? And so what? Is it a big thing? Or is it just a case of you having fallen a little bit in love with a very pretty boy who makes you happy? Happens to the best of us. I’m pleased.”

“Dad.” I kept my voice serious, stern.

“Reuben,” he mimicked my tone, motioning for me to come sit at the table.

I sat. Tried to breathe. Gather myself up.

“It will be okay,” he said and took a huge bite of his sandwich. “Good bacon sandwich, this.”

“You made it.”

“Half of the work is actually taking things out of the freezer and letting them defrost.”

“True.” I grinned. He was stupid. We both were. “Teamwork.”

“Teamwork.”