by Liam Livings
“I’ve never felt so proud of anyone as I did you last night,” Nick said as they ate dinner in a restaurant near the hotel.
“I was a mess. A panicking mess.”
“Not on stage, you weren’t.”
“So what now?”
“I’m going back to London, and you’re going back home.”
“I knew it!” Tony played with his napkin in an attempt to distract himself.
“Knew what?” Nick put his hand on Tony’s where it rested on the table.
“Nothing’s really changed. I’ve had this before—promises of moonlight and roses, lots of sex—and then you disappear into the distance on a horse.”
“First,” Nick said, counting it off on his finger, “I don’t have a horse. Second, I don’t remember promising you moonlight or roses, but I did say I love you and wanted to be with you. And third, actually, when did this happen before?”
Tony started to talk about a man who’d done this a few years ago, and how, when he’d called the other guy, Tony hadn’t heard anything back. “I was left with a packed suitcase, standing at Waterloo station where he’d said he would meet me.”
“I’m not him. I want us to have a life together. Where and how that is, we need to work out. I want to wake up next to you every morning, like these last two mornings. I want to come home to you. OK?”
Tony nodded, feeling slightly reassured.
“If you feel the same, the rest is stuff we can work out.” After a pause, Nick said, “You with me?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s tell your parents, cos we know they’ll be easy. And leave Mother for me to handle.”
***
Back at Tony’s parents’ place that evening, they walked through the door, holding hands.
“Hello?” Tony’s mum said, noticing their joined hands. “I wondered if you’d ever bring him back.” She turned to Nick with a smile.
“I almost didn’t. We almost stayed in the hotel forever,” Nick replied with a smirk.
“Yeah, I remember weekends like that.” She shouted for her husband to join them. When he arrived, noticing the two of them holding hands, she said, “I think we need to book ourselves a little hotel somewhere cheap so we can stay in the room all day, like these two have been doing.”
“You’re welcome to stay here if you want,” Tony’s father said to Nick. “Anyone who makes our son as happy as you do is all right as far as I’m concerned.”
Nick smiled.
“Besides,” his mum went on, “I knew it was to do with you—his face like a wet weekend in Woking—but he wouldn’t say.”
Tony, turning slightly red, said, “It was not. I was resigned to being single. Knew if I couldn’t find someone who accepted me for who I am, then I’d be better off alone.”
“True,” Nick said, putting his arm around Tony’s shoulder, “It took us both a while to work out how we felt about each other.”
“Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until it’s gone,” Tony’s mum said. “I packed up your dad here because he wanted to keep things casual.”
“We might take you up on that—Nick staying here, I mean,” Tony said. “He’s going to apply for jobs down here.”
“London wasn’t quite what I thought it would be,” Nick said quietly, not wanting to talk about it but aware that Tony was keen to change the subject from his parents’ rocky start to their relationship. “Not without Tony anyway.”
“We might move to London together,” Tony said. “Kieran did. So did Kev—he’s working the cabaret drag circuit up there.”
“Whatever you want, let us know how we can help.” Tony’s mum gave them both a hug then ushered Tony’s dad out of the living room, leaving them alone.
They stood kissing for a short while.
Pulling back, staring into Tony’s eyes, Nick grinned as an idea popped into his head.
“What?” Tony asked.
“I was going to ask for a lift to the station, get back to London.”
“Right.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Absence makes the heart, right?”
“But I could text my boss. Ask if I can take the time owing she’s been nagging me to use up.”
“Right.” Tony’s eyes shone. “And then what?”
Nick looked towards the ceiling. “How good is the soundproofing in this place?”
“Right.” Tony bit his lip, looked to the side for a moment. “I’ll text Barbara about tomorrow. I think I’m feeling a bit peaky.” He mopped his brow dramatically.
“A day in bed for you, I think.” Nick waggled an eyebrow.
“Work phone’s in my room. I’ll…” Tony left, ran upstairs.
Nick’s boss replied instantly that he could take Monday and Tuesday off since he’d clocked up so many hours recently.
Someone clattered downstairs, then Tony appeared at the door, clutching his phone, looking crestfallen.
“I don’t have to be back until Wednesday,” Nick said. “Eight a.m. but Wednesday. Any good your end?”
Tony stuck out his bottom lip, putting on a show of being downtrodden. “I’ve got a bug. One of those two-day ones. Barbara said I must be sick cos I’m never off work. Told me to stay in bed.”
Nick’s heart soared. He grabbed Tony’s hand. “Well, we must follow instructions. Do lead the way.”
Tony led him by the hand, past the kitchen where he announced to his parents, “We’re going to my room.”
His mum winked. “We’ll turn the TV up loud, so don’t worry about us.”
His dad grinned and returned to washing up in the sink.
At the bottom of the stairs, Nick said, “Could they be any cooler?”
Tony shook his head, sighed. “They’ll ask all the awkward questions over breakfast. Best bet is to smile and help yourself to more homemade wholemeal loaf. Lay the butter and jam on thick, mention the weather and they’ll soon change the subject.”
Nick wasn’t sure what to say. He frowned, trying to prepare himself.
Tony kissed his neck, his face, then his lips. Taking his hand, he led Nick upstairs, into his small bedroom and onto the double bed.
Tony’s bedroom.
Nick leant Tony against the closed door, kissing him, removing clothes until they stood in jeans. “We’ve got the next two days to test out your question.”
Tony frowned.
“If it’s possible to have too much sex?” Nick unbuttoned Tony’s trousers, then his own. Squeezing Tony’s nicely stiffening bulge, he said, “What do you reckon?”
Tony stepped out of them, pulled Nick’s off, so they stood naked, facing each other, pressed against the door. “I’m up for it if you are.” He looked downwards. “Looks like you are.”
Nick laughed. “And you.” He stepped forwards, adjusted their positions, stepped a leg between Tony’s, pressed their stomachs together, making a slippery dick sandwich. He kissed Tony, their mouths hungrily open as their hips thrust and pushed together, their hard-ons sliding and jostling against each other. Nick reckoned it wouldn’t be possible to have too much sex, not with Tony anyway. But he was going to give it a damned good try.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
“Your parents have invited themselves this weekend,” Nick said. “Did you know this?” He was staring at the calendar on the wall next to the fridge.
“News to me.” Tony moved closer. “Isn’t your mother due as well at some point?”
Nick sighed. It had taken six months of silence from his mother for her to come round to his decision to quit London and his job there, returning down south to be with Tony. She had told him he would regret it, that she’d expected better of him than to let his life be led by a man, especially after what had happened with his ex, and that she wouldn’t be giving him any of the financial help he’d been receiving before.
“I’m kind of regretting inviting her,” Nick said. “She wanted to make amends. Said she missed me. I’m used to being away from the strings she attache
s to every bit of help she gives.”
“How do you know she’ll want to give us help?” Tony asked.
“She will. She knows I’ve not got a job yet. I told her.” Nick hadn’t been able to live with only spending weekends with Tony at his parents’ place, and his department was being restructured, so he’d taken an exit payment to leave. It meant he’d moved in with Tony permanently but without a job.
“We’ll be fine,” Tony said, snaking his arms around Nick’s waist and kissing his neck.
“We will,” Nick agreed. “It’s how Mother will want to interfere.”
“Help, surely?”
“Interfere. I told you, you haven’t experienced her yet.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Remind me you said that after this weekend. She’s expecting to see all the reasons why I left what I had in London.” And why you’re better than the ex. Nick kept that bit to himself.
“Which is why I don’t understand why you’ve not let me meet her before.”
The doorbell rang, and they both startled.
“When are my parents due?” Tony asked.
“Sunday lunch,” Nick said.
“Which means that must be…”
“Brace yourself.” Nick looked around the untidy kitchen—work surfaces covered in crockery from breakfast, their little bichon frise dog sitting on a bed underneath the table—and knew his mother would have something to say about everything.
“If I can cope with a pissed Basingstoke crowd booing me off, I can deal with your mother,” Tony said, pulling himself up to his full height, straight back and shoulders. “It’s funny how reality doesn’t always match up to fantasy.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked, walking towards the door.
“My perfect fantasy life was an older man, living in a flat in London, with a little dog.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“I had that life—without the dog. And it looked great on the surface, but really, I was miserable. Give me this reality any day. I’ve got you and Fluffy, and that’s all I need.”
Nick returned to give Tony one last kiss and held him for a moment. “Yeah, fantasy perfection’s overrated.” The doorbell rang again—three times in a row. Nick said, “Ready?”
Tony nodded.
Opening the front door, Nick greeted his mother with a brief shake of the hands. “Lovely to see you,” he said through a tight smile.
“Will my Mercedes be all right parked outside?” she asked, handing her coat to her son.
Nick closed the door. “Yes, but I can station Tony outside to guard it if you want me to.”
“That would be very useful.” She led the way to the living room where Tony was waiting.
***
“Lovely to meet you,” Tony said, taking in her bright-red jacket and skirt as he stood to greet her, sickness and anxiety rising in his stomach. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And I about you, although how much of it I believe I’m not yet sure.” Jacqueline stood next to the sofa.
“Would you like to sit down?” Tony asked.
“I’d prefer to stand. Chanel.”
Tony frowned, and Nick said to his mother, “Of course. But you’re staying for food?”
“That very much depends on you.”
Later, having established she approved of Tony—
"My son clearly isn’t faking how happy he makes you. Not now I’ve seen you two together. Although it’s all very easy in the honeymoon period. His ex was the same. I’m watching you…”
—she made it clear how much she disapproved of their home—
“I don’t understand why you’ve moved here. To this flat. In this place. To this godforsaken area. I thought they cleared blocks of flats like this after the war. Shipped out the residents to Birmingham or Bradford or Bolton or one of those other dreadful places.”
—to which Nick had explained it was what they could afford and only until he had a new job, when they’d re-evaluate things.
Now Jacqueline was in the middle of telling them where she thought they should move to instead.
“I’ll give you a deposit. First few months’ rent. And you can find a lovely apartment near me. Parking for when I come over. I can’t tell my friends you’ve moved here. I mean, how on earth would I explain it? Plus, your being out of work doesn’t look very good, does it? Not after you studied to be a—” she waved her hand in the air “—working with children and people who need that sort of help. Look, I’ll write you a cheque now.”
She pulled her handbag from the shelf—where she’d insisted it be put—next to the kitchen table—where she’d eventually been persuaded to take a seat—and rummaged inside for her cheque book.
“I think we’ll stay here for a while,” Nick said. “Until I’ve got a new job and we know where I need to be.”
“Are you saying you don’t need my help?” Jacqueline’s face pulled itself into a pinched expression.
“I think what your son’s saying,” Tony said, “is that we want to do things our way. In our time. Under our own steam.”
“Hot air, more like!” she replied, shaking her head and standing as she snapped her handbag shut. “Well, perhaps I’ll see you in another six months.” Gathering up her bag and herself, she went to the door and held out her hand for her coat. Nick obliged and helped her into it.
Briefly hugging her son, she spoke quietly into his ear for some time, while he nodded and then replied inaudibly. Then she waved to Tony and left.
As Nick closed the door, he turned and leant against it, eyes closed in exhaustion. “Told you.”
Tony shrugged. “I didn’t think she was too bad. To be honest, with the warnings you’d given me, I half expected her to arrive in a coat made from dogs and start by asking me whether my intentions for you were honourable.”
Nick sniggered. “She knows that’s a lost cause. My honour went out the window at sixteen.”
“What did she say to you?”
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Striding towards the kitchen, where he started to tidy up the tea things they’d left, Nick said, “What time are your parents due tomorrow?”
Biting his lip, Tony knew there was more to it, and Nick was keeping something from him. “You stayed at my parents’ house for weeks. You’re part of our family. Let me be part of yours. For all their faults. I’m hardly perfect.”
“She’s worried it’s too soon. She’s worried I’m making the same mistake I did with the ex.” Nick paused, staring at Tony. “I told her it wasn’t the same. Explained I ran away from commitment, but when I got away, it was all I missed.”
“And what did she say?”
“That I was very lucky to have found someone I wanted to be committed to, and she’d see us both at the house because she wouldn’t be returning here again.”
“So it went well?” Tony guessed.
“Could have gone worse.”
“Good.” Tony took a breath. “I meant to tell you—Kieran’s wish stick worked.”
“Whose wish what did what now?” Nick frowned.
Tony explained about Kieran buying him the rainbow-coloured wish stick that hung in the kitchen window. “I thought it was bollocks. But I missed you so much when you’d…when we weren’t speaking, I thought anything was worth a go. So I wished we’d be happy. If that meant us being apart, that would be OK for me, but I really hoped it would be together. I thought I’d leave it to the magic wish stick to decide.”
Pulling Tony closer, Nick said, “You’re adorable, do you know that?”
Tony shrugged, watching the wish stick spin in the breeze, casting rainbows over the walls.
“I’m knackered. Mother does that to me.”
Pulling back from the hug, Tony said, “We’ll see her and your dad in a few weeks.”
“Why would you agree to that?”
“Because she’s your mother. And you love her.”
“I do.” Nick smirked. “Un
derneath.”
“And our family includes each other’s families too.” Tony couldn’t imagine having a fractious relationship with his parents. Despite them being rather too interested in the intimate aspects of his sex life, they never interfered, instead letting him get on with it, quietly standing in the audience and cheering him on. Now he had a lover, a friend, a boyfriend who would do the same for him. And Tony would do the same for his friend, lover, boyfriend, because that was what made his heart fill with contentment and love.
“I love you too,” Nick said, kissing him.
“Somehow, even though I didn’t think it was possible for me, you’ve opened up my heart, shown me what it’s like to want to be with someone, to be joined to someone’s soul. All these years of crying over the wrong men, and now you’ve stopped me. Crying.”
Nick smiled. “When we were apart it felt like I’d had something cut out of me. Only I never realised until we were apart.”
“I love you,” Tony said. “My life’s as good as one of my favourite songs. You’re the man who’s in my heart and the same one who’s in my head.” And he kissed Nick as hard as he could.
Pulling back from the kiss, Nick grinned and asked, “The Human League?”
“Totes.”
The End.
About the Author
Liam Livings is an award-shortlisted gay romance novelist, creative writing tutor, and ghostwriter. His fiction focuses on friendship, British humour, and romance with plenty of sparkle. He’s a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and the Chartered Institute of Marketing and holds a Master’s in Creative Writing from Kingston University. He shares his house with his boyfriend and cats. When not writing, he bakes to indulge his dangerously sweet tooth, admires unaffordable classic cars, and drinks all the pink wine with friends. His favourite sport—of which he’s a gold medal winner—is reading a romantic novel in a long hot bath.
He shares his house with his boyfriend and cats. When not writing, he bakes to indulge his dangerously sweet tooth, admires unaffordable classic cars, and drinks all the pink wine with friends. His favourite sport—of which he’s a gold medal winner—is reading a romantic novel in a long hot bath.
