Trust (London Love #5)

“Yeah, thanks for that, Mum,” he mumbled into my neck, but at least he was speaking. I reluctantly hugged him back. What the fuck, man?

“Son, go clean yourself up. I can smell you from here.” Thank heavens his dad was prepared to state the obvious, because yes. Bloody hell.

He untangled himself from my arms and skulked off like a small child.

“He’s not been himself,” his mother fretted, setting the photo album on the table and patting it fondly. “We’ve tried, haven’t we, George? I’ve got our doctor coming round in an hour. He needs to go back on something to get himself back on his feet. And I’ve had words with him about his PrEP—”

“Thank you, Catherine,” George butted in bluntly. “Tea, Reuben?”

“Yes…please.” This was all a bit much.

“He’s a good kid,” George said. “But he needs someone to keep an eye on him. Make sure he eats and drinks and sleeps at night.”

“Yes,” I said. “He’s good at looking after me too. He calms me.”

I had no idea where that had come from, but it was the truth. Just being here, in his…home, had calmed me.

“You work in a hotel, I hear? That must be very exciting. All the tourists and foreign people?”

“We get guests from all around the world, yes. It’s actually very interesting. Different customs, languages—you know, some cultures feel it’s extremely rude to tip. Others? They tip very generously. Of course, the tips never matter. It’s all about providing a service to people who are often out of their comfort zone.”

Where had all that come from?

Graham’s mum nodded. “Very much like nursing. Dealing with people who are often in a lot of pain and in an unfamiliar environment. Some are too scared to even try to describe the health issues they’re having. The job’s as much about putting them at ease, making them feel safe and comfortable, as it is about treating their condition.”

“You’re a nurse?” I asked, making conversation like a pro.

“Retired, but I still keep up. I volunteer at the hospital, just to keep my hand in. It’s nice. Makes me feel useful.”

“Also, it’s very social,” George added, placing his hand protectively on Gray’s mum’s arm. “She likes to talk.”

I smiled politely. I’d noticed that, but I was also worried about Gray. “Is he…all right?” I had to ask. The house had gone very quiet.

“He’s just very anxious,” his mum said.

“She means he’s lost the plot,” George said with a wink. I liked him. My dad would like him too.

His mum shook her head. “He just needs to look after himself better. There are mild medications he can take to curb some of his bad habits. Get himself out of his shell. It’s no good for him to be this lonely. I’m very pleased he’s got you, Reuben, and I know it’s a personal question, but I hope you’re both being responsible and careful.”

“It’s not like the two of them are going to get themselves pregnant and in trouble,” George muttered.

I laughed. Were we seriously going to have this conversation? But actually…

I was an adult. And I realised, it was time for me to act like one.

“I promise we’re being responsible,” I said, feeling like I was telling a million lies. “But I think Gray and I will have to step up and deal with a few things from now on.” I wasn’t sure what I meant by that.

“Good,” his mum said, taking a sip of tea. “Lovely brew, darling. Have a biscuit, Reuben.”

Fuck biscuits. I wanted Gray in my car and to be on the road heading home. Had he gone back to slobbing on the couch? I listened for a minute. No, there was movement, the sound of water sloshing.

“Look at these.” His mum thrust the photo album under my nose. “Graham was such a lovely baby, very sweet. Did you know he started walking at eleven months? Right on time.”

“He was a very, very quiet child,” his dad said as the photos moved on from a blonde toddler to a kid in school uniform. “Struggled a little at school, but look at him now. He’s done very well for himself. We’re very proud.”

“Very proud,” his mum echoed while I squirmed looking at photos of a child I vaguely recognised. Class photos. Trips to the beach. Birthday parties.

“My childhood wasn’t like this,” came out of my mouth. Nothing I could do about that now. “My mum…well, she struggled. The first time I saw a beach, I was fifteen, I think.”