Desmond didn’t know why he felt sheepish about his idea. There was something about deliberately blurring the edges of their love bubble that made him feel like he was courting disaster. But if he wanted more, and he did, this was how he got it.
“I was thinking Kew Gardens,” he said, focused on buttering toast in case Javier didn’t like the idea and made a face.
“That sounds like an awesome idea,” Javier responded with genuine brightness.
Desmond glanced up from his toast, pulsing with hope. “You’d really enjoy wandering around a garden with me while I fangirl over plants?”
Javier’s laugh was all the answer he needed. “I would love to watch you fangirl over plants,” he said, leaving the coffee he’d been making to slide up to Desmond and tug him into an embrace. He kissed Des’s mouth quickly, then arched an eyebrow and said, “Am I going to have to keep you on a leash so you don’t go running off after every pretty posey that catches your eye?”
Desmond dissolved into a breathy laugh. “Not at all,” he said. “I can be very well behaved in a garden if needs must.”
“Good,” Javier said, kissing his cheek before stepping back to continue with his coffee.
Desmond watched him for a moment as he piled their toast onto a plate, then brought it to the table, along with the plate of eggs and sausages he’d prepared earlier. “You’re really okay with us doing something out of the house?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Javier asked as he took the seat across from Des. “We’ve gone out to museums and restaurants before.”
Desmond shrugged. “It’s not blurring the lines too much?” he asked. “Because this is something I’m passionate about, not just a random activity out there?”
Javier knew exactly what he meant without further explanation. “The whole point of drawing those lines to begin with was so we could just enjoy ourselves without our real lives interfering,” he said, then ate a forkful of eggs. When he swallowed, he finished with, “We can leave the house and go out in public to do something you love and still keep the real world at bay.”
“We can,” Desmond agreed.
That didn’t stop the faintest whisper that they were taking a major step forward—a wonderful, terrifying step—from niggling at him as they left the house later that morning and made their way down the street toward the Tube station.
“What, no Hassan today?” Javier asked with a teasing grin as they strolled.
“I’m not that pampered,” Desmond laughed. “I do give my driver time off now and then.”
“How’s he doing, by the way? Did you say his wife was pregnant?”
“She is,” Desmond nodded, then proceeded to chat about Hassan’s family all the way to the Tube.
It was so normal, so peaceful and ordinary. Matthew had never been interested in the lives of the people who worked for or around him. Neither had any of the long-ago boyfriends he’d briefly been with before that. No one had made him feel like his life meant anything other than the achievements he racked up at work and the zeroes in his bank account until Javier came along.
Kew Gardens was as crowded as could be expected on a beautiful Saturday in late April, but Desmond found he didn’t mind. He wasn’t there for the crowds, he was there to enjoy the wonders of nature with his boyfriend. It was the weekend, so he could absolutely think of Javier in those terms without guilt.
“Do you want to go through the greenhouse or would you rather observe your beloved plants in the wild?” Javier asked as they strolled through the most crowded part of the gardens, between the front gate and the Palm House.
Desmond laughed, then breathed in deeply and looked around. “Honestly, I’d rather just walk with you. Preferably somewhere without so many people.”
Javier smiled at him and took his hand. Right there, in the midst of all the noisy families, clueless tourists, and serious garden lovers. “Sounds perfect.”
They took one of the long paths that led through the heart of the garden, toward the Thames. After a detour in the overflowing rose garden, they wandered on, taking their time and just enjoying the day.
Desmond couldn’t imagine things being more perfect. He wanted more. He wanted this feeling every day, not just weekends. As they strolled through the trees, surrounded by birdsong and the distant sound of people enjoying themselves, he racked his brain to find the right words to ask Javier for what he wanted.
He’d just about cracked the code when Javier stopped short on the path and gaped ahead of them, toward the lake that wasusually the sight of a dozen different sorts of waterfowl. But it wasn’t the ducks that had caught Javier’s attention.
“You’re joking,” he said, as if what he saw was anything but a joke.
He let go of Desmond’s hand and started to walk fast toward the lakeside. Desmond figured out what had caught his attention immediately. Off to the side, right near the water’s edge. A small group of people looked to be doing some sort of impromptu photo shoot. It was more than just tourists taking a few good pictures. The cameraman looked professional, he had an assistant with him, and the subject of the photographs was definitely a professional model dressed in designer clothing. The man looked vaguely familiar.
“Do you have a permit for a commercial shoot here?” Javier asked as he approached the group.
Desmond couldn’t tell if he was joking or furious.
The model popped out of giving face and stared at Javier with wide, worried eyes. “Javier,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
