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“I never say no to tea. And that chocolate cake you snuck out to me earlier was lovely. You need to teach me to bake.”
“That, my darling? That I can do.”
The clarity was back in my head, flooding me with something else I’d started to recognise. Happiness. I was happy. Almost giddy with it.
Him. Me. Us.
I smiled and followed him out in the kitchen, picked up his T-shirt and handed it to him, grinning as he pulled it over his head.
I hoped he was happy too. I needed him to be, and from now on, I’d do everything I could to make sure he was.
Because life was too short not to feel as good as this.
Ben
It was once again Friday morning, and our senior management team was assembling in the glass-fronted boardroom, ready to endure another hour of our lives that we’d never get back.
I was, unfortunately, management too, thus my presence was required.
Suits were the attire of choice on a Friday morning, and I had in the past forced myself into one. These days, I came up here as I wasin my chef’s whites, but I’d at least made an effort with a clean apron. I’d even stuck my bandana in my pocket and combed my fingers through my hair.
I probably looked a mess, like always, but I was here, laptop in hand, a neatly laid out graphic with clear charts loaded up ready to present this week’s outgoings, employee costs and, of course, profits. We made them and I was incredibly grateful that we did. Also, every word on there was spell-checked and correct, and I’d even added little graphics for ease so I didn’t have to stand here like a complete fool talking out of my arse.
I’d done this hundreds of times, even though I preferred Mark or Mabel to take the reins so I could hide in the kitchen with the rest of my team. Public speaking had never been my forte, but such was the lot of the head chef. I could do this.
Finn thrust a coffee mug into my hand and held out his own. Our mugs clinked together like we were toasting.
“A word,” he said quietly, tugging at my sleeve with his free hand. We moved away from the others filing into the room. “All good? Hugo okay?”
“He’s fine.” He was, actually. Still a little unsettled and sometimes seemingly off his head, but I was learning to read him now. It was just the way he was, and all those little traits made me love him more. “We’re good. He’s…getting on with things.”
That was my way of saying that he was eating, going to work and coming home. Sleeping in my arms and letting me hold him. I needed that. God, how I needed that. Just his skin against mine. My face in his neck. Kissing. Fuck. I loved the kissing. Lazy make-outs in the mornings, his hands against my chest, mine roaming his skin. I caught myself stupid-smiling, and Finn just shook his head.
“You’re as bad as me, mate.”
I almost said something snarky back, but Finn was a decent bloke, and Hugo adored him, which had made me soften a little towards the man who was presently blocking my view and spilling biscuit crumbs down his suit. It was bright blue today, and that tie belonged to Mark. I recognised it. It was silly how that made me giggle. Mark brightened everyone’s day. Mostly mine.
“What did you need from me?” I asked.
I expected flipcharts, numbers, bookings to align with large groups of executives who would need overpriced dinners with even more overpriced wines and cocktails. I hated the bloody cocktails. They were Mark’s new thing, and our new five-course meals now included a welcome cocktail full of bloody chopped fruits and colourful umbrellas, which were doing my head in. But they sold, and people bloody loved them, so I just had to smile and go along with all the madness even if my suggestion of a simple glass of champagne accompanied by a small selection of carefully curated canapés had been voted away with a flick of Mark’s wrist.
“It’s stupid, I know, but I don’t know who else to ask.”
“Shoot, mate.”
Fuck. I hated that word.
“Benjamin, I want to ask Mark…and I’m honestly? Terrifying.”
“That’s not even a complete sentence.” I kept my voice low because he was wringing his hands, coffee sloshing as he put his mug down on the windowsill.
“I want to…make it official. Not that a piece of paper matters, but if anything happened to me, I want him to be…you know. Settled. I want him to have everything he needs and to be able to live. And he’ll probably laughin my face, but it’s more than that. I need… Fuck, Benjamin, it’s stupid, and Mabel will kill me, but it’s…”
“It’s what you need,” I said softly. There was a sudden ball of lead in my stomach because I got it. I bloody did.
“It is,” he said, biting his bottom lip. Finn was never like this. Ever. He was full of stern determination, confidence pouring out of his ears, but it was nice that for once he was asking for my opinion. One I could confidently give.
“Mark loves you. There’s no way he would turn you down, but…”
