“It’s probably best if we wait . . . until when, I’m not sure. Maybe after we retire, we can come out of the closet and be like, ‘Ta-da! Guess what? We’ve been in love this entire time,’” Eggo says.
My heart plays out a brand new rhythm in my chest.In love.But he’s right about not telling anyone else. I don’t want any accusations of favouritism, or people getting the wrong idea about us, or thinking that we’re just going through a phase.
“We’ll have to speak to Gadget and Abs and make sure they don’t say anything,” he says.
Not that Gadget would. He’d known about our affair for over a year, and he hadn’t even told me. And I can’t see Abs blabbing. If anything, he’ll wear his “carrier of Aiden’s secrets” badge with pride.
“You think we’ll be together until we retire?” I ask, nervous again.
“Of course we will,” Eggo replies without hesitation. I bite my lip, stopping my smile before it turns into something maniacal. “We’ll get married too, and you can get your green card that way.”
I can’t tell if he’s taking the piss. “Wait, for real?”
Eggo shrugs. “If you want to. But I mean, it’s not for ages yet. I’ve still got a good five years left, easily, and you have longer. And then I guess, if you’re up for it, once we retire we could move to Cornwall together.”
He looks at me and smiles, and I know he’s trying to pass off his comment as nonchalance, like it’s no big deal, but I see the way his chest rises and falls too quickly. I see the slight wobble to his lower lip, the almost imperceptible crease to his brow, and I hear the faint tremor in his voice. He’s nervous.
Two years ago I wouldn’t have picked up on any of these cues, but I’ve learned to read Finn Eggington better than any other living person.
I swallow down the weird obstruction in my throat, switch my ice cream to my other hand, and entwine my fingers with his.
He doesn’t even look around to see if there are other people about. Anybody could walk along, recognise us, and snap a quick photo. We’ll have to learn to be more careful.
But not right now.
“I would fucking love that,” I say.
Eggo lets out a little relieved sigh.
“Another question . . .”
“Yes. The answer is yes. Whatever it is that you want, it’s yours.”
I lick my ice cream to give me something else to focus on. “Uh . . . Okay, but I was gonna ask if maybe you . . . wanted to live together . . . maybe.”
He smiles at me. Looks off to the horizon. Looks back and smiles again. “Yeah, maybe I do.”
Logan runs up the jetty to gather more pebbles and then waddles down to the edge with his collection.
“Your house is nicer than mine,” Eggo says, watching his kid play. “It’s bigger, and you have more stuff than I do, and a dog. So, it would be . . . easier to keep that all where it is.” He’sstill speaking casually, trying to pass it off as though he’s not bothered either way, as though he hasn’t given it much thought up till now.
But it’s one of those things that I can’t pretend I haven’t considered. Moving in together has been part of my regular daydream rotation since he kissed me at Halloween. “I have a spare bedroom too, and no lodger. We could make it Logan’s room, so he can stay with us. We could paint it Spider-Man colours.”
Eggo doesn’t answer me. Instead, he drops to the ground in a squat and buries his face in his elbows. His shoulders shake with silent tears.
I take his ice cream away to free up his hands, give him a few moments, then crouch beside him.
“Nope.” He scrubs his face dry and stands. I stand too. “I don’t deserve you.”
I’m about to argue with him, explain why it’s the other way around, that I don’t deserve him, but he cradles my jaw with his damp palm, and I forget what words are.
“This is it. Peak life. Right here. This is . . . literally everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” Eggo laughs like he’s just delivered the punchline for a hilarious joke. “I’m living the fucking dream, mate. I’m joy-maxxed to the fucking eyeballs right now.”
Same, though.
“Do you remember when we were outside Bosley’s pub, and it was Halloween, and I said that I felt as if I was always chasing things that might make me happy?” I ask.
Eggo’s brow creases, but he says nothing.
