Unveiled

I stand up, making Gregory sit back on his haunches, and approach Miller. His eyes follow me until I’m before him, nearly touching his chest, looking up at him. But he doesn’t take me in his embrace, nor does his straight face crack.

‘I need to go home,’ he whispers.

‘I’m not leaving.’ I make myself clear before he starts with the demands. I’m not leaving Nan or this house until this is over.

‘I know.’ His easy acceptance startles me, yet I keep my composure, not willing to expose any more weakness. ‘I need . . .’ He pauses, thinking for a moment. ‘I need to be at home to think.’

I want to cry for him. He needs his calm and normal to pull his thoughts together. His world has exploded into chaos and he looks like he could give under the pressure. I understand, really, I do, but there’s a tiny part of me that’s devastated. I want to be the one to settle him – me in his arms, me in his thing. Now’s not the time to be selfish, though. It isn’t just Miller who finds solitude when we’re immersed in each other.

He clears his throat and looks across the kitchen. ‘Give me the package he left for me.’ A brown padded envelope appears to the side of me, and Miller takes it without a thank you. ‘Watch her.’ Then he turns and walks out. I watch his back disappear down the hallway, followed by the soft closing of the front door. I’m missing him already and he’s only been gone for two seconds. My heart feels like it’s slowing, and stupid as it might seem, I feel abandoned.

I feel lost.

Chapter 21

A hot shower can only settle my nerves so much. When I get out, the house is quiet. After popping my head around the door to check on Nan and finding she’s still sleeping, I follow my feet to the kitchen. Gregory is standing over the stove, stirring something in a pan. ‘Where’s William?’ I ask, joining him by the cooker.

‘He’s taking a call outside.’ The wooden spoon bashes against the side of the pot, flicking some of the contents up the tiles on the wall. ‘Shit!’

‘What’s that?’ I screw my nose up at the brown slop being frantically whipped around. It looks disgusting.

‘It’s supposed to be potato and leek soup.’ He drops the spoon and steps back, taking a tea towel up to his brow and wiping it. ‘Nan will be horrified.’

I force a strained smile, noticing blobs of goo on both of his cheeks. ‘Here.’ I take the towel and set about wiping him down. ‘How did you manage to get it all over your face?’

He doesn’t answer, just lets me do my thing, standing quietly watching me. I take far longer than is necessary, until I’m sure I’ve rubbed blisters into his cheeks. Anything to avoid the inevitable. ‘I think you got it,’ he murmurs, taking my wrist to stop my clean-up operation.

My eyes flick warily to soft browns, then drop to the white T-shirt covering his broad chest. ‘And here.’ I reclaim my hand and start to rub at his chest, but I’m stopped before I can rub him red-raw there, too.

‘Baby girl, stop.’

‘Don’t make me talk about it,’ I blurt, keeping my eyes on his hand holding my wrist. ‘I will, just not now.’

Gregory flicks the gas off on the stove and leads me to a chair. ‘I need your advice.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. Willing?’

‘Yes.’ I nod enthusiastically, loving him for not pressing me. For understanding. ‘Tell me.’

‘Ben’s telling his family this weekend.’

I bite my lip, delighted I’m doing this to stop myself from grinning. A real grin. Not forced or fake. An actual proper grin. ‘Really really?’

‘Yes, really really.’

‘And . . .’

‘And what?’

‘And you’re happy, obviously.’

He finally breaks and grins from ear to ear. ‘Obviously.’ But his smile fades just as quickly as it appears, making mine fade with it. ‘By the sounds of it, this will come out of left field for his parents. It’s not going to be easy.’

I take his hand and squeeze hard. ‘It’ll be OK,’ I assure him, nodding when he looks at me dubiously. ‘They’ll love you. How could they not?’

‘Because I’m not a bird,’ he laughs, kissing the back of my hand. ‘But Ben and I have each other, and that’s what counts, right?’

‘Right,’ I assert without delay, because it really is right.

‘He’s my someone, baby girl.’

Happiness for my best friend soars. Maybe I should be cautious on his behalf. After all, Ben has been a dick on more than one occasion, but I’m delighted he’s finally over what others will think of his sexuality. Anyway, in reality, I’m in no position to pass judgement. Everyone has their demons, some more than others – Miller definitely more than others – but everyone is fixable. Everyone can be forgiven.

‘What’s up?’ Gregory asks, snapping me out of my musings.

‘Nothing.’ I shake off my wayward thoughts, feeling more alive and awake than I have in . . . hours. Is that all it’s been? ‘That envelope.’

Gregory’s sudden awkward shifting tells me he knows what I’m referring to. He was there, he saw, so of course he knows, yet I have an inkling there’s more to it, especially given that he’s avoiding my gaze. ‘What envelope?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Really?’

His face screws up in defeat. ‘The evil fucker gave it to me. Told me to give it to Miller. You know it’s not the first time I’ve seen him, right? He was that nasty fucker who turned up when you ran off to New York. I happily left him and William in Miller’s flat to their staring standoff. Fuck me, it was like being between two cowboys ready to draw! I nearly passed out when I opened the door to him.’