Everyone made pleasant noises at the end of the story, and Kieran gazed over at his own mother, who caught his eye, smiled sadly and shrugged. Not everyone got to have their happy ending.
Once again, small conversations hummed around the room.
“When did you know?” asked Kieran, snuggled into Kennedy.
“Know what?”
“That you wanted me. I mean, when did you really know?”
Kennedy appeared to consider this.
“You know, I think it was on my stroll up the lane in Okinawa, when you were waiting for me. I saw you standing there, grinning at me as I approached and, I don’t know, something inside me just clicked. And then, when I got to you, and you gave me a hug outside that Buddha bar—”
“Outside the what?” asked Kieran, turning to face Kennedy.
“That bar. The Giant Buddha lounge, or something like that. The one you were standing beneath when you hugged the life out of me. I only remember because the bar light popped on just as we hugged. What about you?”
But Kieran’s mind went back to that evening and later to the night in the hotel, the one branded in Kieran’s brain forever, the first time they’d made love. And all this time, he hadn’t realised he’d been standing beneath the giant Buddha bar in Okinawa waiting for Kennedy to arrive—waiting for his destiny?
“Hey, Kieran. Are you okay?”
“More than,” said Kieran, turning and kissing him on the cheek. “I love you, Kennedy Grey.”
“Love you, too. But for the record, I said it first.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kieran
Singapore, May 2019
Heavy monsoon rains had dissolved the stifling humidity of the May afternoon in Singapore, leaving behind the promise of a clear evening. Droplets fell from the old mango tree in the grounds of Kennedy’s parents’ place, with garden fragrances of jasmine and sandalwood rising to scent the air. In the eighteen months since Kennedy’s parents had visited them for Christmas, their world had transformed.
“Where is he?” asked Kieran, carrying a tray of pungent Indonesian appetisers to the outdoor table, followed closely by Matius, pushing a rattling, clinking drinks trolley laden with bottles of spirits and jugs of soft drinks. Kieran had spent the last hour watching—and occasionally helping—Maya prepare Indonesian dishes in the outside kitchen, mesmerised at the array of natural ingredients and spices going into the wok for each dish.
Laurie and Claire sat watching the last of the rain from beneath a canopy beside the swimming pool. Steph sat a few feet away, next to the back porch doorway, cooled by the air-conditioning from inside the house. Little Polly lay asleep in a crib, with Steph rocking her gently from side to side. Even though Laurie had been the birth mother, their baby had brought out the maternal side of Steph.
“Kennedy? Inside feeding the twins,” said Laurie, enjoying a cooling Singapore Sling. Kieran came over and joined them, sitting in the low two-seater rattan sofa. “He’s managed to get Link off to sleep, but Clint’s got a bit of colic, he thinks.”
“Maya will go help now,” said Matius, before heading back towards the kitchen.
Lincoln and Clinton had been born four months earlier, courtesy of a surrogate mother. Neither Kieran nor Kennedy had been expecting twins, but both had been as delighted as the other. Kennedy had been the donor, but Kieran had insisted on the names, in keeping with family tradition.
“I can’t believe how he is with them. I swear he has the patience of a saint.”
Not much in life left Kennedy speechless and in awe, but with the arrival of their twins Kieran had seen a fundamental change in him, in his priorities. Even with Kieran’s mother living with them, overjoyed at being a grandmother and only too willing to help, Kieran often drove home at the end of a long day to find Kennedy already there, feeding and burping the boys, or getting them off to sleep. Usually he dismissed the event as ‘working from home’, but Kieran knew better. If Polly had brought out the maternal in Steph, then the twins had brought out the doting parent in Kennedy.
“Well, he does have a lot of practice, having to live with you and Ed,” came Steph’s voice from the shade.
“I heard that,” said Kieran, joining in Laurie’s and Claire’s laughter.
“Where’s Jeff?” asked Laurie, handing Kieran a chilled glass of white wine and clinking their glasses.
“Doing me a favour,” said Kieran, quietly to Laurie. “He’s on his way back from the airport right now. Friends are over for a working holiday and having dinner with us before heading to their hotel.”
“And tell me again why they’re invited to a family gathering?” called Steph.
“Bloody hell. Does your wife have super-hearing?” asked Kieran, mugging at Laurie.
“Meet Wonder Woman,” said Laurie, giggling.
“You know Jeff,” said Claire. “Always finding waifs and strays to bring home.”
“Mum!” said Kieran, with mock outrage. “I hardly think the son of the Earl of Stratham is either a waif or a stray. Nor is his partner, Trevor. They were the ones who helped arrange our wedding in Scotland at short notice, as well as the catering, and I didn’t hear you complain then.”
Everything had fallen into place so quickly almost a year ago, through friends of friends. Cole’s pals from Japan, returning in January from their holiday in Scotland, had sown the seeds in Kennedy’s mind when they’d met for a drink. And once Kennedy got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. They’d referred him to their friends who, through family connections, had managed to find a slim window of opportunity to host the wedding for the newly appointed CEO of Grey Steel International and his gay partner. They, in turn, had got in touch with the famous chef Marcus Vine to request his help in catering—something Vine was famous for declining because of a busy career running his international restaurants. But somehow, he’d found the time, and everything had come together beautifully, with Kieran and Kennedy finally getting married on a glorious day in early June with Loch Arkaig, Ben Nevis and the stunning grounds of Mortimer Hall as their backdrop.
“That lovely young man, Rudolph? Why didn’t you say so? Stephanie, I know I’ve said it before, but it was such a shame you and Laurie couldn’t be there. So close to Polly’s birth and everything. But the whole ceremony was like something out of a Disney movie, with this world-renowned chef actually there, catering the whole event. His partner even helped set up a couple of marquees on the grounds. Did we tell you? Absolutely adorable.”
“Yes,” said Steph, while Laurie rolled her eyes at Kieran. They’d hated not being there, but Polly had been premature and a difficult pregnancy for Laurie, and they hadn’t wanted to take any chances. “We saw the photos, Claire. The official ones, as well as all those posted by guests on Kieran’s Facebook wedding page. Even saw a couple of them featured in Attitude mag.”
Kieran noticed Kennedy heading out to join them. Forty-five years old and he still looked good enough to eat. As he spotted them and walked into the sunlight, when Kieran saw a flash of gold on his wedding finger, his heart swelled with pride. In the last hour he’d changed his shirt to a loose-fitting, short-sleeved Indian cotton affair in aubergine, opened at the collar to reveal his chest hair. Kieran knew the shirt well, because he owned the damn thing. Seeing Kennedy wearing his clothing, he felt himself getting hard and had to adjust himself, before waving Kennedy over to his seat.
“Thought I might find you here,” said Kennedy, squeezing in next to Kieran, taking the glass of wine from him and having a sip. “Leaving the old ones to do all the manual labour.”
Before they’d even tied the knot—and probably because he’d warmed to the idea of having his own little Polly—Kennedy had been the one to push for kids through surrogacy. And, as usual, he’d taken to the project like a man with a mission.
“Why are you wearing my shirt? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Little Clint puked on mine.”
“Ah. How is he?”
“Asleep now. Maya managed to calm him down. She’s amazing with them, insisted on watching them, even though I said I’d take the baby monitor. I wonder what it would take to persuade her and Matius back to England—”
“Too late. He’s already been snapped up by the new owners,” said Claire. “That’s why we’re all enjoying this place and his wife’s cooking, while we still can.”
Declaring the Singapore house to be too big for two, Jeff and Claire had found a buyer, a local businessman with a family of six, who would move in at the end of July. If Kieran was going to be totally honest, that was one of the deciding factors for them visiting, especially with the boys being so young. They wanted to see the old place one last time. Kennedy’s parents would move into a smaller apartment with clubhouse facilities, still close to their friends, and with room for visiting family or guests. Kennedy told him how Jeff had gifted Matius and his family with a generous payment for their years of service, something Matius had tried—unsuccessfully—to hand back when the new owners asked if Matius and his wife would consider staying on and working for them.
“Have they signed a contract yet?” asked Kennedy.
“Don’t even think about it,” warned Claire while lifting her glasses into place to check her phone display. “Reagan, Bernie and the boys are almost here.”
“And here’s Dad,” said Kennedy, nodding towards the driveway.
They all watched as Jefferson parked the Toyota. Once the engine had died, he brought his two passengers straight over to where everyone was sitting around the pool. Considering their long flight from England, Rudy and Trevor appeared remarkably awake and alert, even though their loose, rumpled travel clothing told a different story. Rudy’s broader build complemented the slighter frame of Trevor, his dark-red hair worn almost militarily short and at odds with Trevor’s wild black mop, as though the latter had just woken. Maybe the time shift would hit them later. Kieran remembered only too well his own jet-lag experience the first time arriving in Singapore. Kieran warmed to see them. He had really gotten on well with Trevor, had felt a special bond grow between them on finding out they’d both come from humble origins. After greeting everyone and cooing quietly over a sleeping Polly, they made their way back to one of the rattan sofas.
“So how are you faring?” asked Kieran as the guys settled in their seats.
“Can we get you a drink?” asked Laurie at the same time.
“Funnily enough, Jeff just asked the same thing on the way here,” said Rudy. “How we feel. Hadn’t really thought about it.”
“But we’re both great,” said Trevor. “If a little disorientated. And I’d love a drink. But I’m not sure if we’re ready for an early evening cocktail—”
“Or a morning mug of hot cappuccino,” finished Rudy.
“In which case, how about I fix you both an Espresso Martini,” said Laurie. “Then you can have a taste of both.”
“Perfect.”
Over drinks, and while the last of the daylight bled from the sky, Trevor and Rudy brought them up to date with their lives. Although still managing the gym in the south, Rudy was spending more and more time helping to run his family business, Mortimer Whisky, while Trevor was now managing the books of a stable, profitable portfolio of clients. When Trevor stood and asked for the washroom, Jeff offered to show him the way while Rudy continued the conversation.
“We’re in a pretty good place. Not sure we’re ready for kids, but—and please keep this between us—I’m thinking of proposing to Trevor at Christmas,” said Rudy.
“And where are you thinking of doing the deed, assuming he says yes? Scotland?” asked Kieran.
“You know, I think we’d both prefer something small and non-traditional. Someplace with sun and sand. I’m thinking maybe a simple commitment ceremony on a beach in this part of the world. I know Trevor wants to visit Vietnam one day, maybe Halong Bay or Da Nang. But I really love the idea of Bali.”
Kieran exchanged a glance with Kennedy, almost certain the idea had popped into his head at the same time. Kennedy smiled and winked at Kieran before addressing their friend.
“Rudy, we still owe you so much for helping with our ceremony at such short notice, so if it helps, I have a four-bedroom villa in Bali that is yours whenever you need it. And apart from the villa, there are plenty of other properties around, if you want to invite a number of guests to attend. There’s even a private cove linked to the villa where you could hold the ceremony. Just let me know the dates, so I can alert the staff.”
“Seriously?” asked Rudy, his eyes wide.
Kennedy nodded while Kieran laced his fingers into his husband’s free hand and squeezed.
“And if you’re not sure about Da Nang, Halong Bay or Bali,” said Kieran, “how about doing them all? And adding Ho Chi Minh, Singapore and Semarang in Indonesia to the itinerary?”
“Whoa. Trevor’s the one who keeps an eye on our finances. But I know our budget’s definitely not going to stretch to that,” said Rudy.
“Bali will cost you nothing. It’ll be my wedding present to you both,” said Kennedy, grinning. “Driver pick-up, villa with a pool, all food and drinks in the villa. All you’d need to do is get there and take a little spending money.”
“There you are,” said Kieran. “Make Bali your last stop.”
“Nice idea,” said Rudy, gently shaking his head. “But it’s the cost of the flights to each of those other destinations and then hotel accommodation that’s the killer.”
“Could you fly into Hong Kong and fly out of Bali?” asked Kennedy.
Kieran smiled, knowing where Kennedy was going with his question.
“I guess so.”
“So what if you could still see all those other places without flying in or staying there?” asked Kennedy, clearly on the same page as Kieran.
“Sorry,” said Rudy. “I don’t understand.”
“What my husband means is, have you considered a cruise?” asked Kieran, smiling at Kennedy. “Because, let me tell you, we both highly recommend them.”
“In fact,” said Kennedy, “we might even join you.”
Rudy laughed aloud.
“Nice idea, but let’s keep it between us for now. A lot can happen in a year.”
“A year?” said Kieran, smiling and leaning in to kiss Kennedy on the cheek. “A lot can happen in a month.”
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The Billionaire’s Bride
Jambrea Jo Jones
Excerpt
Remington Marlow glared down at the phone on his desk as if it might jump up and bite him. His father was on speaker, spouting nonsense too early in the morning. He needed more coffee for this conversation.
“Damn it, Dad. This is ridiculous.” Slamming his hand on the desk, Remington Marlow picked up the handset.
The whole company didn’t need to know his business. Jackson Marlow might be his father, but he was out of his ever-loving mind to think Remi was going to just get in line with this cockamamie plan of him settling down. He was very happy his father was at the main office about five minutes away and not down the hall, because he would have done something rash, like throttle him. He hated arguing about his dating habits…again. It wasn’t like he was a kid anymore. He’d just had his thirty-sixth birthday.
“No, it isn’t,” Jackson declared. “I gave up the hope of an heir when I found out you were gay, but there are options out there, Remi.”
“Dad—”
“Don’t you ‘Dad’ me. I watch the news and see the kids that need adopting—or you could even go with a surrogate. I’m not saying you need to have kids now, but I won’t have you fucking your way through all the men in Fort Wayne.”
“I have not fucked my way through all the men.” Remi rubbed his temple.
His dad sighed and continued his tirade. “I want you to settle down. Date a man. Get to know him. Fall in love and get married. I want you to have what I did. The ye
ars I had with your mother were the best times of my life and I would give anything to have them back.”
“I know, Dad. I know. I miss her too,” Remi agreed.
“Maybe I did wrong by you, giving you everything you ever wanted, making sure you got a generous monthly stipend until your billions release to you. Well, it stops now. You’re going to have to learn to live on your paycheck alone without any other money from me. I’m cutting you off if you don’t do something about your life. That’s final. You start actively dating someone and I will let your trust release in full on your fortieth birthday and I won’t stop your monthly allowance.”
“Is this why you put the clause into my trust? I understand payouts, but who makes a person wait until they’re forty for the final one?” Remi wanted to throw the phone across the room. He was so frustrated with the conversation. He was almost forty and his dad was still giving him an allowance.
“You’re lucky I didn’t add in a marriage stipulation from the beginning, Remi.” His dad threw more heat on to the fire happening right now in Remi’s body.
“I knew you were controlling, but this takes the cake.” Remi pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know Mom wanted me to have that money when I turned twenty-one. All of it. No allowance. Full control.”
“Yes, but I fought her on it. I wanted you to be more mature, and twenty-one is still too young to have that kind of money. When she died, I knew I’d done the right thing. You were even more self-destructive.”
“I’d just lost my mother, but that’s beside the point. You do know I’m a grown man, right? Running a multibillion-dollar company?” Remi dropped his face into his hand.
Companion Required Page 22
