“Well, you’re more important to me than him.”
I stare at him. “And that’s just wrong, Jez. What the hell is thematterwith you? Your priorities are completely screwed lately.”
“You’re my friend. I don’t like you being mad at me.”
“What about your son?” I hold up a hand. “Don’t say something shitty,” I warn him. “I’ve had just about as much as I can take with you this morning.”
“No. Wait, I?—”
“Good morning,” a husky voice says.
We both jerk our chins and find Xavier is standing by our table. We were so involved in our argument that we didn’t notice his approach. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt advertising some garage. It’s torn at the neck, offering a glimpse of his clavicle. His hair is wet and swept back off his forehead, drawing attention to his beautiful face and razor-sharp cheekbones. He looks real and so utterly gorgeous that my breath catches.
His eyebrows rise. “Ornota good morning,” he offers.
Jez opens his mouth, and I give Xavier a strained smile. “Would you mind giving us a couple of minutes?”
He examines my face and then looks at Jez. Then he simply nods. “Okay, I’ll be loitering at the buffet.” He sets off, and I drag my attention away from the beautiful line of his back.
I turn to Jez. “Here is what is going to happen,” I say in a fierce whisper. “You are going to try with that boy. You are going to show him the nice side of you, which so far has been hidden deeper than leprechaun gold. You are going to give him a nice experience of a father who, to be frank, has been irredeemably shitty so far.”
“Okay,” he hisses. He rubs his hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry.” I raise my eyebrows, and he nods. “I’ll say it to him. I hate that you think badly of me.”
Still with this same old tune. I think of stressing again who’s actually important in this scenario and dismiss it. If he’s nice to Xavier, does it matter how it happened?
I stand up. “Where are you going?” he asks anxiously.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to get some breakfast. Spend the time thinking of something that Xavier might want to do rather than an outing you’ve read in an Enid Blyton book at some point in your life.”
“How am I supposed to be doing that?” he asks, panicked.
“He’s artistic and dreamy and incurably curious. Start with that.” A funny look crosses his face as he looks at me. “What’s the matter now?”
“N-Nothing,” he stammers. “You just seem to know him very well.”
“That’s because I listen to him.”
He looks beyond me at something. “Go and get your breakfast.”
I shake my head and move away to the buffet station. Xavier is standing by the omelette section, his plate in hand. He’s being admired by a cluster of teenage girls, but seems unaware of the fact, his attention all on me.
“Am I okay to come over there?” he calls. “Or shall I just stay in the egg equivalent of Siberia?”
I try to stop my smile, but I’m not entirely successful. “It’s safe now.”
He stays at my side after I walk over and order a tomato and feta omelette from the woman behind the counter.
“You looked like you were having a proper row,” he says, unable to hide the relish in his voice. I shoot him a chiding look, and he rolls his eyes. “What?Pleasedon’t make me become a decent person. I’ll get terribly boring.”
I can’t help but laugh. It’s too loud, and I see heads turn nearby. I sober. “I had words about what I found out last night.”
He looks confused. “What was that? You found out a lot of things.”
I stare at him. “Like what?”
He leans closer. “Like the fact that my arse is tight and strangles your dick.”
I choke on my own spit, coughing and immediately looking around, but the people nearby are intent on getting their breakfast.
