by Con Riley
After more than a year of living in this country, Vanya’s only politically sure of one thing—Britain is as victim to recent global madness as any other nation on the planet. Europeans like Kaspar and Anna facing an uncertain future has left them all off kilter.
Jason shakes his head. “I told her to keep her chin up. She’s doing great at college, and Kaspar’s working full-time. There’s no way the government will actually risk losing more taxpayers.” It’s a refrain he’s uttered often wearing this same confused expression, like he can’t quite believe the course his own nation has taken. He fumbles his phone when it chimes, almost dropping it in his haste. “No baby yet.” His laugh is rueful. “I can’t believe I’m a bag of nerves about this.”
“First baby in family is biggest deal.”
“It is.” Jason’s smile straddles pride and terror. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
“Best uncle.” Vanya lists attributes on his fingers. “Best at teaching to ride ponies. Best at cooking Russian dinners. And best at taking favourite niece shopping for clothes in London.”
“Yeah,” Jason sighs like that, at least, is a manifesto he can happily sign up for. “Apart from the shopping. I know someone much better at that than me.” His kiss is quick but just as warm as his gaze. They share a quiet moment as the train pulls through Moreton-in-Marsh without them alighting. It hurries to Cheltenham where, hopefully, they’ll be in time to welcome a honeymoon baby. “We’ve hardly talked about your day. You spending so long at the school has to be positive, doesn’t it? They must want you as a volunteer.”
“No.”
“No!” It’s warming to have Jason so indignant. Politics aside, feeling supported like this is a gift that Britain can’t ever take back.
“No, they don’t want me as volunteer. There is a paid position in their foundation unit.”
“Did you know about that before you went?”
“No. Is brand-new classroom for children who transition from home or nursery.” Many of the children have to transition from a whole lot more—other countries, other customs, and other languages to cope with. He touches the roll of paperwork in his jacket pocket. “Have to formally apply, but head teacher thinks could be a good fit.” He stares beyond Jason at trees that flicker past the window rather than keep eye contact. This last part means so much that his voice comes out thickly. “School is also part of teacher training federation. Possible to get qualified teacher status right there after I’m get final degree credits.” He clears his throat. “Could be teaching own class in two years.”
It’s a dream he hardly dares hope will come true, and yet as he watches Jason later holding a scrap of brand new life that wails, red faced, red haired, and lovely like her mother, he lets himself go ahead and do so.
He hopes as he watches Andrew inflate with pride and enough love to fill the whole room, and that hope only deepens as he sees Chantel lie back, her eyes fixed on this miracle she and Andrew created as if she can’t quite believe it. Her smile is tired when Jason passes the baby to Vanya, cradling her tiny head, careful until he’s sure he has her.
He’ll hope because that’s exactly who this baby’s named for, after Andrew and Jason’s mother.
A full moon hangs low above Riversmeet when they walk down the lane after eleven that night, thin slivers of silver slanting through boughs to light their way home. Jason is surefooted, hopping across stepping-stones with ease despite the dark, satisfaction rippling from him when Vanya follows in his footsteps. It’s tangible too when he encourages Vanya across the threshold into their room, kissing him the whole time.
Meeting his niece has left Jason punch drunk like Vanya’s never known him, talking virtually nonstop all the way home, listing plans for her future.
Once they’re in bed, he whispers, “What a day,” between kisses, like someone might overhear them. “What an amazing day. She’s amazing. They both are—baby Hope and Chantel. No wonder Andrew didn’t want to leave them, not even for a minute.” He kisses Vanya deeper, only breaking off to repeat a question he’s asked three times already. “Did you see all that red hair?” It shouldn’t be so moving to have the next kiss interrupted as well, but when Jason says, “I’m so pleased they named her after Mum,” he goes ahead and nods instead of speaking.
Emotion lends so much sweetness to Jason’s next sure statement.
“I’m going to give them my share of this place.” His lips are soft on Vanya’s shoulder. “It’s time. Sometimes I wonder if Mum left it to me in the first place to glue me and Andrew together.” His pause is thoughtful, his next kiss distracted. “She needn’t have worried. I’m pretty sure we’re stuck with each other for life.” He lies on his back, Vanya’s head cushioned by his bicep. “Besides, they’ll need this bedroom if they have any more kids.”
“Maybe.” Vanya touches the broad chest housing a huge heart that’s already wrapped around his niece’s tiny fingers. “Or maybe someone clever could get proper permissions to add brand-new rooms to old house?”
Jason kisses his temple. “Thank fuck I managed to track you down today. I was worried I wouldn’t find you.”
“Wouldn’t ever want to miss this.” Vanya doesn’t hesitate before saying, “Could change something to make it easier to find me.”
“Does that mean…?” Jason sits. When Vanya straddles his lap, he grips his hips firmly. “You’re really going to move in with me, at last?”
“If you still want.”
“If I still want? Jesus, Vanya, I was starting to wonder what Kaspar and Anna had that I didn’t. I know getting a place with them was important. I get that. And I know that all three of you wanted to pay your own way, but—”
“Was about more than that.” He bends down to kiss this man who’s been so patient. “I’m hide things from you. Important things.” He hushes Jason before he can interrupt him. They’ve already unpicked exactly how a few half-truths and omissions escalated. “If I’m move in with you right after wedding, you might think was for wrong reasons. You do have very comfy bed and hottest shower.” He’s only partially joking about that, but he’s one hundred per cent honest when he says, “Might always wonder, and doubting is no way to start over.”
He straightens up to softly press fingertips to Jason’s cheekbone. The black eye he sees is only in his mind’s eye, bruised and very tender like the man beneath him. “Needed to get own jobs and pay own rent and do more than survive without access to boyfriend’s wallet.” A fingertip drifts to Jason’s lip where blind panic once drew blood. “Needed to get help to move on, and that help couldn’t be from you. Needed to find more people to lean on. So now I’m have brand new problem….” He can’t help the smile that breaks, bright as the moon beyond the window. “Now people at support group will ask different questions about us living together.”
“Like what?”
“Like, what attracts older man to successful young Russian with three jobs and good future? Will think you want me for wrong reasons.”
Jason’s laughter rumbles.
Vanya muffles it with a kiss, then transforms it into a low groan with a slow roll of his hips.
Making love is a double celebration of a new life and a new start that’s intense from the outset. Vanya loves each moment, from Jason’s slick, sure press inside him to each slow thrust that comes with kisses. He straddles this man and takes it, takes him, both hands braced on a chest that’s solid under his palms, just like Jason, always perfect for him. Vanya tells him so in Russian before breathlessly translating.
“Yeah?” Jason rolls him over, the breadth of his shoulders the only shelter Vanya still seeks out in this country. He pushes back inside, each firm thrust sparking pleasure rivalling the moon’s brightness until Vanya comes between them.
Sleep soon claims Jason after they’re done, stealing Vanya much more slowly. He only dozes lightly, replaying the whole day from start to finish, delighted when the scent of freshly ironed bed linens drifts into a dream that’s vivid.
> “Mama?” He sits up and calls out, so pleased when she stands in the doorway. “I will be a school teacher in London!”
Her tears frame a smile he so often dreams of, his own eyes wet when Jason wakes him.
“Hey.” He exerts gentle pressure as he shakes him. “Were you having a bad dream? You shouted.”
“Wasn’t bad.”
Vanya rubs sleep dust and dampness from his eyes.
“Was dreaming of Mama.” He turns into an embrace that’s always accepting, Jason’s arms a safe place to say aloud what’s been on his mind since that morning. “Remind me to send email tomorrow?”
“To your mum?”
Vanya nods, not trusting his voice while he pictures all his unsent emails. He’ll write a brand-new one tomorrow and hope the time is finally right to press Send.
“She has to miss you, no matter what your dad said. Even if they did have to relocate and start over, they must wonder and worry.” Jason’s tone is sincere. “I’m sure she only wants the best for you.”
Vanya already has the best, he knows, as Jason pulls him close and holds him. This man is more than he dared to dream of when he first arrived in Britain.
But if one of his dreams can come true, Vanya will hold out hope for another.
THE END
About the Author
Con Riley lives on the wild and rugged Devonshire coast, with her head in the clouds, and her feet in the Atlantic Ocean.
Injury curtailed her enjoyment of outdoor pursuits, so writing fiction now fills her free time. Love, loss, and redemption shape her romance stories, and her characters are flawed in ways that makes them live and breathe.
When not people watching, or wrangling her own boy band of teen sons, she spends time staring at the ocean from her kitchen window. If you see her, don't disturb her — she’s probably thinking up new plots.
Con Riley’s Books
www.conriley.com
Also by Con Riley
The Seattle Series
After Ben
Saving Sean
Aiden’s Luck
The Salvage Series
Salvage
Recovery
