AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He laughed. “That was the only one I knew how to make off the top of my head. I’m not sure there’s a floriography meaning.”
“You could have totally lied to me,” I said. “And told me it means sweetness or something, and I’d have totally believed you.”
He squinted against the sun, smiling. “I’m really not the lying kinda guy, sorry.”
I could see the honesty in his eyes, the gesture of this little flower in my hand. “I can see that, yeah.”
I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I could try not to overthink this much, but he was just all kinds of incredible, and I wasn’t sure there was much point in fighting it.
I nodded to the café. “So, coffee?”
He grinned. “Yes, please.”
Chapter Five
Keats
The café was amazing.A place called Kopi, a newish franchise popping up all over, and the fact I’d heard of it spoke of its popularity. It was the brainchild of a young Sydney guy who ran the company with his boyfriend, or maybe they were husbands now. Linden couldn’t remember.
But he knew most of what went on.
“Gotta support our queer fam,” he said. “And they’re eco-responsible so it’s a win-win.”
And the coffee was great. So was the white-chocolate and raspberry-fudge cookie Linden put in front of me. “I might not be a baker, but I can always bring you a cookie. Believe me, you don’t want me to bake it for you. But buy it for you, I can do.”
We had the usual get-to-know-each-other conversation.
He was originally from Gosford. He had an older sister, and she and his mum still lived there. They were close and spoke every few days. He tried to get home to see them as often as he could, which, he admitted, wasn’t as often as he’d like.
He hated school, never bothered with uni, and went straight into PA work through an agency in the city. He was better with people than he ever was at studies, and his ability to read aperson from their posture to their shoes was something akin to an FBI profiler.
I told him that.
“Or a personal shopper,” he said with a laugh. “I love shopping and fashion, and I know what someone needs before they do.”
“And what do I need?” I regretted saying that the second it was out of my mouth. “Sorry. Don’t answer that.”
He sipped his coffee. “Want me to tell you what you need?”
Not really.
“Um . . .”
He laughed. “You need me.”
Well now. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Oh. Is that right? I thought you were going to say something like a social life or aQueer Eyeintervention.”
He chuckled. “I think Robbie and Tan took care of that.”
I winced. “A few outfits do not a new man make.”
He smiled at that. “I like the old you just fine.” Then he sighed. “But yes. I think you need me. For what greater purpose, I’m not sure yet. But I’m glad we’re here.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I also wasn’t sure why my heart was thumping so erratically.
“So tell me,” he went on. “What’s the Keats McCulloch story?”
