by M. J. O'Shea
“Do you not own a pair of jeans? Some wellies maybe?” Christopher grumped at her.
“Quit taking your nerves out on me.” Libby reached over and ruffled his hair. “Did you two speak today?”
“If by speak, you mean text messages that take him forever to reply to, then no.” Christopher had messaged August that morning, but he hadn’t replied yet. After weeks of the excruciatingly slow back and forth, he was starting to feel a bit like a stalker. He was also not going to stop until he got August to at least agree to talk. In person. Without Libby. Seemed like a tall order after an entire month of little or no progress.
“Can’t believe it’s almost February,” Libby babbled. “One month down and only seven more to go. I don’t know how we’re going to get it all done.”
“Seven months, Libby. You can do this. It’s not that hard.”
“Christopher, don’t be an arse to me just because you’re not getting your way easily. This is going to take work.”
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay. Are we going to take a trip out to Longwick soon so August and his people can see what they’re working with?”
In his moment of offering Longwick up as the venue so he could somehow stay closer to August, the painful hours of parading the wedding team around the house had been an abstract problem worth the price. It was quite different now that the problem was upon him.
“Yeah,” Christopher said. He couldn’t help that his voice sounded pinched.
Libby looked over at him. Then she plucked a gingery hair from his jacket. “Is this dog fur?” she asked. She frowned at him.
“What? I’m a country gentleman stuck in the city for the time being. I have to at least have my dog.”
“That’s fine. Just keep him off the clothes and we’ll be all right. I got you this for Christmas last year.”
Christopher swatted at her. “I can’t discuss dog hair right now. I’m terrified.”
“Why didn’t you just stop by the office? You know where he works.”
When they were kids, Libby was usually the one who did the talking for their little threesome. Christopher had been shy and happier near his horses, and Edward basically did whatever Libby decided he should do. It had taken Christopher years to learn to speak for himself. Too many years.
“It didn’t seem right. August said no personal visits. I need to do this on his terms.”
“And what if his terms are this wedding is all you’re going to get? Are you willing to let him go?”
“I—” No. He’d never really let August go. Even in all those years when they never ever saw each other, he’d kept August’s phone number in his phone. Letting go wasn’t going to be an option for him. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I still love him.”
“And you’re sure it’s not just the memory of being a carefree kid?”
“No. It’s him. I’m sure.”
THE car pulled up to Helena Preston, and Christopher’s driver helped Libby out of the backseat.
They shuffled along the frozen sidewalk and into the lobby. The second he walked into that lobby, the first fraught meeting with August hit him. Christopher hoped it would be better this time. It had to be better. Libby spoke to the girl at the front desk, who led them back to August’s office.
August sat behind his desk, waiting. The whole office looked like him somehow, from the comfortable but stylish chairs to the lamp in the corner. It wasn’t delicate and floral like the front room. The walls were decorated with framed pictures of what Christopher assumed were events he’d produced. There were fabric swatches and binders galore, labeled things like “Bakeries” and “Florists.”
“Hi, good to see you both again.” August reached out and shook Libby’s hand and, after a moment of hesitation, Christopher’s.
Christopher didn’t want to make August feel out of the loop for even a second, so he cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured at Libby. “She knows,” he said quietly.
August stared for a few awkward moments.
“O-Oh.”
“He’s an arse. I hope you forgive him for it someday. Shall we discuss floral arrangements?”
Christopher almost laughed out loud. Typical Libby.
August looked taken aback for a moment, but then he gathered himself and sat. “We can do that. I’d like to get a feeling for the space as well before we get too deep into decorations.”
Libby smiled at August. “I was going to bring that up as well. It’s a bit of a haul, but we can easily take Christopher’s car down. We’ll have to schedule a visit. Likely we’ll need to stay overnight.”
August nodded nonchalantly, but Christopher wasn’t fooled. The thought of spending the night in his childhood home with August didn’t exactly go down smooth with him either. At least the place was big enough that they could effectively hide from each other if it was as awkward as Christopher feared it would be.
“Me and Louise can take care of that with you.”
“Perfect. Listen.” Libby reached across the desk and covered August’s hand with her own. “I’m sorry this thing is going to get pretty intense. Edward and my family know a lot of rather notable people. They’re… going to expect a lot out of this. We went with you because you’re the best, but it might get overwhelming even for you.”
August gave her a strange look. “I know it’s going to be a lot. That’s why you came to us, isn’t it? We have a lot of experience running events like this one. I have a lot of experience.”
“I know. I’m just sorry in advance. My mum’s a bit of work, and Edward’s mum is even more than that.”
August’s face flashed with a moment of pain, like maybe he knew just a bit too much about society mums and what they expected. Christopher wrapped an arm around his own middle and hunched over a bit.
“It’ll be fine. We’ll just have to have lots of options to show them when we tour the property. I’m assuming they’ll both be there, right?”
“Yes. And I’ll make sure Edward has time off of work to meet us there. He should be around for the big choices.”
August nodded like it was all very expected. Christopher supposed it was.
“Before we go, shall we discuss caterers? We’re going to need to contract someone who….”
Christopher tuned out and let Libby and August natter on about brie wheels and transport vehicles. He almost didn’t need to be at these meetings. Libby had everything under control, and she seemed to get on really well with August. But the thought of removing himself from the situation, of letting go of his only tangible in-person contact with August? Not in a million years, no matter how unnecessary he was.
THE ride home on the tube was suitably smelly and crowded. August supposed he could’ve waited a few hours for rush hour to be over, gone out for pints with Will and Weezy, but the meeting had exhausted him. That one hour felt like fifteen, fifteen hours of Christopher’s stare, of his presence, so tall and far broader than he’d been when they were kids.
He knew Christopher wanted more than the calm professional. The worst part was that August found himself wanting to give it.
Christopher had never stopped texting, weeks of little messages here and there. The pictures of his dog were some of August’s favorites; goofy little jokes were the other ones. He’d almost forgotten how much of a dork Christopher could be. Not when they were hanging out with his Eton friends, that Christopher was slick and sophisticated and well traveled. It was the one that only he got to see, the Christopher who liked books more than parties, his horses and dogs more than most people. That was the Christopher August had loved more than life. It was the other one who’d come and broken his heart.
August’s phone buzzed.
I loved seeing you today.
He tried not to react in a crowded train.
I don’t know how to be around you and not be allowed to touch you.
August cleared his throat. He was sure the other passengers could tell what his phone said.
Christopher….
August fired off a vaguely warning text. He couldn’t deal with the full onslaught of Christopher, not when he was tired and cold and overwhelmed.
I just want to talk to you. Please, can we talk?
The train announced his stop. He stood and held on to the pole as his train ground to a halt.
I’m walking home. How about we talk until I get there?
August didn’t have to wait very long for his phone to ring. Five seconds tops.
“Hi,” Christopher said as soon as he picked up.
“Hey,” August said back. He tried to keep his voice friendly. No point in telling Christopher he could call only to be a dick when he answered. “What did you want to talk about?”
Christopher was quiet for a long time. “I thought this would be easier,” he finally said.
“What?”
“I’ve been rehearsing this speech in my head for years. On a daily basis for the last month. But somehow, I just… don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t need a speech.” Please no dramatic speech. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re having for dinner,” August said.
“Wait… dinner? Why?”
“I don’t know. That seems easy. I was going to grab some fish and chips on my way back to the flat. Probably a coffee too. I live above a Café Nero.”
“Do you? What part of the city are you in?”
August chuckled.
“Oh, come on. That’s not too much information. I won’t walk up and down the streets of your neighborhood shouting your name. Probably.”
August laughed out loud at that. “Little Venice. I got lucky and found the perfect flat not too far from the tube station.”
“Look at you saying tube and flat. I remember when you refused.”
Christopher chuckled. His laugh was warm and familiar, and August suddenly pictured cozy mornings in bed with tea and books, him in one of Christopher’s huge sweaters, and it all seemed awfully real to him.
“What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“I can tell there’s something wrong.”
“Nothing. I was just….” Remembering a time when I thought we were going to be together forever. He couldn’t admit that to Christopher. Not then, not ever. “It’s been a long day.”
“Is it too hard for you to see me?” Christopher asked.
“If I said yes, would you stop coming?” August countered. He knew the answer already.
“Probably not.” Christopher did this kind of laugh-sigh thing that he did a lot. “I feel like I just found you. Like a huge chunk of my life has been missing for years and I didn’t even realize it until I walked into the room and saw you there.”
“You can’t say stuff like that to me.” August’s heart pounded against his chest. Christopher had always been one for quietly tearing him apart. Saying things like that with a low, soft voice like he meant them with utter certainty.
“I feel them. I feel like I tried to find you in so many places, but there’s no such thing as a replacement. You’re—”
“Okay, I can’t. I have to eat dinner and try to sleep tonight. I’m at my building anyway.”
“Can I come over? I… an hour wasn’t enough.”
August shook his head. “When did you get so persistent? Last time I checked you were more than happy to let someone else be in charge.” August didn’t mean that as snappy and bitter as it sounded. Truly.
“I was. I know I was. But that guy lost the only thing in his life that he really cared about. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice if I get the chance to fix it.”
“Oh God. I have to go, Christopher. I’ll talk to you another time.”
“Can I still text you?”
August tried to ignore the slightly burny-bubbly feeling in his chest. “Yeah. You can still text me. Night, Christopher.”
“Night. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.”
AUGUST let himself into his flat and breathed a short sigh of relief. He’d been so flustered he forgot his refrigerator was empty. He’d have to go get at least coffee and a muffin or something before the coffee shop closed, but at least he was in his own neighborhood and away from everything he had to avoid. He felt it. Obviously. Everything he’d ever felt for Christopher was nowhere near gone. It probably wouldn’t ever be. Didn’t mean he had to give in to it again. No matter what Christopher said, no matter how sincere he sounded, or was, August and Christopher were a disaster waiting to happen. Christopher was still him, and August was doing well for himself, but he was still an event planner who only worked for people like Christopher. Nothing had changed.
He decided to get coffee and a sandwich before he managed to drop completely into wallowing mode. The shop really was just on the bottom floor of his building, so he slipped shoes and a scarf on and headed out with only his wallet. It wasn’t too crowded, which was a relief. August’s favorite barista had already started his drink too and had a chocolate croissant ready for him.
“Hey, thanks, George. I’ll grab a ham sandwich too. Forgot to go to the grocery store.” August shrugged.
“You know, if you ever want to get dinner,” George said.
He blushed like he wasn’t supposed to say those kinds of things to customers. Probably wasn’t. August just smiled at him.
“That’s sweet. I’m just not… available.”
“You’re not single?” George asked. “I’ve never seen you in here with someone.”
August sighed. “It’s a long story.”
He was single, obviously. Probably would be until he got his shit together and got over Christopher once and for all. But he wasn’t available. He didn’t know how to explain that. Was there a way?
AUGUST had a few awkward minutes of waiting for his sandwich to be warmed up before he could go back up to his apartment and away from the entire universe.
He ate his sandwich and croissant and drank his coffee. There was a rerun of an old Inbetweeners episode on TV, but he wasn’t really paying attention to it. It only took about a half an hour of staring at the screen before August got up and walked over to his wardrobe. There on a high shelf was a box of pictures that he couldn’t bring himself to throw away but he never looked at. At least he hadn’t in years.
He pulled the shoebox down and opened it. His painfully young face stared up from hundreds of pictures—smiling and so damned in love. He barely even knew that kid. And then there was Christopher. He’d forgotten how young Christopher used to look.
Why can’t you let this go?
August pulled out a picture of him and Christopher that had been taken by a friend. Christopher had his arms around August’s shoulders, and August was cuddled tight against his chest. They both looked so happy, like one of those couples who’d be together forever. August had a ring by then, and it glinted in the flash of the camera. That was only a few months before everything went to hell.
August hoped he’d get over that feeling someday, that the hurt wouldn’t be a raw wound buried under years of resentment and avoidance. He somehow doubted that someday would come soon. He’d been waiting since he was twenty-one, after all, and it hadn’t come yet.
Chapter Five
AUGUST had always hated Mondays. Especially after a weekend of thinking far too much and doing far too little. It seemed like he’d wasted his time away. He had to work the next weekend to run a gallery opening he and Will had put together, and he was already dreading it. Still, the weather was warm for February, and it was a beautiful walk from the tube station to his office. Plus, Will had promised him a latte and a croissant. It wasn’t such a bad day.
The staff was gathering around the table in Helena’s conference room when he got there for the Monday rundown. That’s when they discussed and passed out new jobs, showed off their work on events completed. It was usually fun in a way, got the creative juices flowing for the week. Usually.
August plopped down in his seat and groaned happily when
he saw the huge latte and croissant on the table in front of him.
“They even had the kind with the orange glaze that you like,” Will said. He looked smug with his victory. It was fairly adorable.
“Thanks, mate. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
“Looking forward to the gallery opening this weekend?” Will asked. It should’ve been simple, just a gallery opening and all that, but the timing, list of VIPs, and security had been such a bear to work out that it was going to take him, Will, Louise, and a borrowed member of another team to make it run.
“Yeah. Definitely.” August rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.”
He brought his croissant to his mouth and took a huge bite. “This is amazing.” He groaned. “I could eat ten of them.”
Helena came into the room then and clapped her hands.
“Okay teams, rundown time. You want to start, August?”
She smirked in his direction. Helena loved teasing him that she always came in to ask questions when he happened to have his mouth full of a bite of lunch or a drink. August rolled his eyes fondly and nodded.
“Things are all set for the Rothford Gala this weekend. Will, Louise, and I will be borrowing Patty, and that’s all scheduled.”
Patty nodded from across the table and made a check mark in her planner.
“I’ll let Will talk about his projects, but the Pritts-Shackleton wedding is right on schedule. In a couple of weeks, I’ll be taking Louise with me down to Cornwall for an overnight trip to check out the venue.”
There was a round of obligatory wolf whistles, which nobody meant, of course. August waved them off.
“Why can’t we go spend the night in a stately home?” Patty asked. She poked her team leader, James, in the side.
“Hell, if you can convince Cecelia Chapman that she needs to get married at a manor, I’ll be happy to fund a weekend trip up to scout locations.” He winked at her.
