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“Is he here?” Dylan asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell him thank you.”
“I don’t know why he’s thanking me. He should have been here, or he should let me stay.”
“He says you should let him stay,” I said to Dylan.
“Maybe I should,” Dylan conceded and ran both hands through his hair. “Maybe he’s right.” Dylan sighs. “I’ll make you some tea and some crumpets.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t!” Dylan held up his index finger in warning. “You’ll drink it and eat it and that’s the last I want to hear of it. You heard what Dave said. And he’s a doctor,” he added, and I had the impression he was trying to make a joke.
“I have to go,” Tristan said. “Being this… present and active, for this long… It’s…”
“You’re tired?” I said.
Dylan turned around and answered. “Yes. Exhausted.”
“Yes,” said Tristan and closed his eyes, revealing the extent of his fatigue. “Knackered.”
“My dad used to say that.”
Tristan’s smile was sweet and sad. “Yeah? Mine too.”
Dylan realized I wasn’t addressing him, and with a scowl, he went back to filling the kettle.
“I’ll see you later?” I said under my breath.
“Yes.”
“Thank you again.”
“Beauchamp. You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I was here. Tell the son of a bitch that I’m not going anywhere if he can’t look after you.”
“Okay.”
He pressed his fingers to his lips, blew me a kiss, and vanished.
“Eat,” Dylan said, his voice gentle as he entered the living room. He placed a tray with two plates of lavishly buttered and honeyed crumpets and two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table.
I took a mug and enjoyed a sip of tea but regarded the crumpets with reluctance.
“Please,” Dylan pleaded. “You’ve had a terrible shock. You need to restore your blood sugar levels.” He grabbed a second plate from the tray and sat down on the sofa. “See. I’m following doctor’s orders too!”
Dylan had thought an engaging film might be one way to relax, but I hadn’t watched any TV since… since before the accident. I’d not been able to sit and concentrate for long enough. But maybe it was exactly what we both needed to restore some calm.
To please him, I bit into the crumpet, and butter oozed down my chin.
Mmm… They tasted so good. I used my finger to wipe my chin and then sucked the excess butter off. Dylan promptly turned his attention to the remote and the TV, and the flat-screen pinged to life. Of course, being Dylan, he had a range of apps to choose from.
He chose Apple TV.
And then the store.
“Hmm,” Dylan murmured as he flicked through titles. I watched him as I took a sip of tea. “How about this?”
