Even though Chantel and Andrew left Riversmeet in high spirits, a strange unhappiness settles over the house when they return. Like fog, it pools in low places, especially in the kitchen where Jason finds Andrew. There’s nothing too unusual about the way he sits at the table, rifling through his briefcase. Jason’s seen him do the same during countless other visits, but somehow the set of his shoulders this time is different.

Jason takes time brewing some tea, not rushing to take a cup back to the bedroom for Vanya. Instead he takes his time, keeping an eye on his brother, as if watching him might make that fog lift. “Wasn’t he in?” he eventually asks, after a few more minutes of unusual silence. “Chantel’s father, I mean. I was expecting you two to be gone for longer.”

“I see you had enough time for a change of clothes.” There’s a tightness in Andrew’s tone that only relents when Jason cocks an eyebrow his way. “Sorry if coming back early cramped your style.”

“It would take more than you coming home early to do that.” Jason still feels too good to take offence—far better than a first attempt at a clumsy blowjob should really warrant. “Besides, when your boyfriend is a personal shopper, you wear whatever you’re told.” He sets a cup down on a coaster next to Andrew’s elbow and then fetches milk and sugar.

“No sugar for me.”

“Since when?”

“Since I wore my interview suit. Don’t know how it could have shrunk so much.” His nose wrinkles after taking a sip. “Maybe half a spoon won’t matter.” Even the chink of his spoon against china sounds agitated.

Jason pours another cup and sits opposite. “You know, the last time I saw you all uptight like this, you gave me a black eye.”

Andrew sets down his cup. “I thought you accepted my apology for that.”

“I did. I do. It’s over. But the last time before that was when you found out I was seeing Garry again.” At least that prompts a wry smile.

“Can you blame me for being pissed off about that? It was bad enough when he stood you up back at school. How many years did he string you along after that?”

“Too many.”

“Exactly. You were on and off forever. Did you ever really think he’d come out of the closet for you?”

“I… no.” Someone smarter might have figured that out much sooner. “But I didn’t exactly expect him to get married and start a family either.”

“You’re better off without him.” Andrew rolls his shoulders. “Why are we talking about that wanker anyway?”

“Because you’re all het up. Someone’s riled you up like me getting back with Garry used to, so why don’t you tell me what happened with Chantel’s father?”

Andrew doesn’t answer. The tea in his cup must be compelling; he stares at it very fiercely.

“He was in when you got there, wasn’t he?” Jason persists. “He was in, but he said something to Chantel that’s really pissed you off.” He looks over his shoulder at the kitchen doorway. “Where is she, anyhow? I didn’t hear her come in.”

“She went straight to the stables.” He bows his head over his mug when he adds, “I knew he had a thing about me being older. I’ve known that from the start. But I thought he’d get over it when he saw that she was happy.”

“And that hasn’t happened? He’s not coming around to the idea at all?”

The snort Andrew lets out is far from amused. “He gave her an ultimatum when we first got together.”

“He threw her out?” Jason hadn’t known that. No wonder they’d moved in together so quickly.

“Well, he didn’t outright say, ‘it’s me or him,’ but he made life hard for her. Wouldn’t have my name mentioned at home.” He snorts again. “As if not mentioning a subject ever makes things better.” He lifts his head, and his expression’s candid. “He keeps banging on about the age difference. Can’t see that we’re good together when we really are.”

“I know.” Jason does have a better understanding lately of how attraction can bridge age gaps. “You know when something feels right.”

“He’s getting worse about us, not better.”

Jason sets his cup down. “What happened today?”

“We went to talk with him about the wedding. The invitations have been out for months, apart from the ones he insisted he’d deliver himself. Turns out he’s done nothing with them.”

So Jason wasn’t the only one digging his heels in about replying.

“He doesn’t want to invite a single person—no friends, no old work colleagues, no family. He only agreed for us to go over there today because he had yet another ultimatum for her.”

“Which was?”

“He wants Lady back in his stable. Says he paid for her in the first place, so any foal she drops is his too. If Chantel wants to see the foal born, she’ll have to move back home.”

“Jesus. Can he do that?”

“No. It’s an empty threat, but that didn’t stop it from sounding awful. We didn’t make it past the front door. He kept the door chain on the whole time, like I’m some kind of petty thief about to steal the family silver.”

“Does he know what you do for living?”

“Oh, yes. You’d think being a corporate accountant was a respectable career choice, but he’s spun it into something horrendous. Thinks I cook the books for mobsters. Mind you, I have worked for lots of Russians, so….”

It’s a weak attempt at a joke Jason can’t even rouse a smile at. “Not all London Russians are in the mafia.” But plenty are very wealthy, snapping up the high-end properties Dom sells just as fast as Jason can renovate them. That would actually explain a lot about Vanya not needing to work full-time or at all lately. And if his landlord has shady connections, that would account for Vanya not wanting to rock the boat about his hot water issues.

He pulls his chair in a few more inches, his ankles knocking with Andrew’s under the table. “So her dad laid down the law, and that was it? Come home or else? He wouldn’t let you in to talk about it?”

“Nope. He wouldn’t even speak directly to Chantel when she offered to come in alone.” A sharp flare of anger brightens his next glance across the table. “I wouldn’t have wanted her to go in there without me.”

“Why? Is he violent?”

Andrew’s passionate when he spits out, “No!” His brow furrows when anger wars with sadness. “I wouldn’t want her to because he doesn’t deserve her.” Then his head drops. “But I wouldn’t have stopped her either. Not if that’s what she truly wanted. I wouldn’t ever stand in her way, but I’d be there to defend her, because that’s what you do when you love someone. You support them when they make their own decisions. It took me two divorces to learn that, but I think I’ve got it, this time.”

“So that’s why you’re back so early? Because he wouldn’t let her in?”

“No.” Andrew scrubs at his face. “We’re back because she finally told him no.” His gaze lands on the window, the stables a few hundred yards beyond it. “I’ll tell you something else I learned today.” His sigh is weary and drawn out. “It’s very hard to feel like I’ve won when she’s heartbroken.”

* * *

The atmosphere isn’t much lighter when Chantel comes in from the stables, hay in her hair and her face pinched. She tries to make conversation like she hasn’t just faced a confrontation, but her smile is still weak and watery when they’re in the sitting room later.

It comes to a head when she knocks over her drink. “I’m so clumsy.” She mops the spill with a hanky that’s damp already. Her voice comes out more choked than Jason’s ever heard it. “I ruin everything. This wedding’s going to be a disaster.”

“No,” Andrew promises. “You don’t ruin anything, sweetheart. You make everything better.” They’re two very simple sentences, that’s all, but they loosen her composure. It comes undone completely, snapping like a flag in a brisk wind when Andrew adds, “I’m sorry he can’t see that.”

She barely makes it into his arms before letting out a loud sob.

Vanya sits wide-eyed on an armchair, caught between them and escape. It could be intensely awkward, but instead of inching away, he asks a quiet question. “What happened?”

There’s something about having to keep things simple for a new-to-English speaker—Jason cuts to the chase. “Her dad isn’t happy about the wedding.” He pauses when Chantel pulls herself together.

“That’s an understatement.” She pulls a tissue from the box Jason offers with a muffled, “Thank you.”

“Why?” It’s a simple question, but all three of them hesitate so long that Vanya asks another. “He isn’t happy that husband is successful?” His eyes narrow a little. “Or he doesn’t like that husband is few years older?” He tilts his head like twenty years is nothing. “Hearts can’t count numbers.” He glances at Jason like he’s speaking directly to him, then his gaze flicks to Andrew. “Should think he is lucky. He gets to have a new son as well as keeping his daughter.” Vanya makes statements like they’re an absolute truth rather than his perception. “And wedding will be perfect because you have very experienced best man. One who will help make it happen.” He speaks directly to Chantel. “So maybe you should stop crying. Let best man fix your problems.”

“Th-that’s not how it works,” Chantel stutters, some colour back in her cheeks now. Perhaps it’s the heat of the wood stove—too warm in this small room this early in the season—or maybe it’s Vanya’s certainty lending her a blush that’s pretty. Andrew’s tight embrace loosens as she explains. “The best man doesn’t have to fix the bride’s problems. He only has to makes sure the groom turns up on time, take care of the wedding rings, and make a speech at the reception, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Vanya sounds dismissive. “Think groom will turn up early.” His gaze Jason’s way is appraising. “So I’m think best man could work harder for you.”

That’s something Jason’s thought to himself already, a challenge he brings up later as they get ready for bed.

In the quiet of the room he’s known since childhood, he leans back against plump pillows, watching as Vanya stops folding his clothes to stifle a yawn that goes on forever.

Maybe it’s sleepiness that makes him slow to answer when Jason asks, “Will you help me?”

“Help with what?”

“With the wedding.” He sits up, wishing Vanya would hurry up and come to bed instead of folding his shirt so very slowly. “What are you doing with your time if you aren’t taking any more personal shopping clients?” He backtracks when Vanya’s movements still completely. “I mean, of course if you’ve got another job—”

“No.” Vanya’s quick to discount that. “Not working.”

Jason holds in a smile at Andrew being so right about London’s wealthy Russians. “If you’ve got the time, you could help me make her day perfect. I’ll pay—”

“No.” Vanya does turn then. “No more money from you. Besides, British weddings must be different to Russian.”

“Well it’s a good thing I met you in a wedding department. Anyone who works there must have some idea of what they’re doing, like your friend Kaspar.”

Vanya turns away suddenly again when Jason continues.

“Maybe I could pay him.”