He wanted truth? He would get it.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter 15
One Year Later
“Get a move on!” I hollered at Damon, who was still digging in the closet for something, while I was bouncing up and down on my toes in the open doorway, the icy exterior rushing past me to get into Grahame Cabin.
“Found it!” He detached himself from what seemed like an alternate universe in the closet, based on how far in he’d been, and wagged an enormous blue rubber fist at me.
I doubled over with laughter. “No,” I said, when I’d managed to pull it together enough to talk. I grabbed the doorframe and shivered again, wiping away the tears before they could freeze on my damn face. “No way, Damon. Leave the bells and whistles at home.”
He actually looked crestfallen. “Aw. We haven’t included him for so long, I thought—for auld lang syne?”
I snorted again, shifting my shoulder bag and picking up one of the two carry-on bags full of presents waiting at the door. “You really want to explain Big Blue to airport security?” I asked. “Because even if you’re cool with giving a live demonstration, I’m not.”
I’d already talked him out of handcuffs, hoods, and a riding crop. None of them, I pointed out, would be looked on favorably by TSA.
Damon grinned. “Who are you kidding, Blakely? The thought of taking Big Blue while all those men in uniform stood around watching…that’s in your top five fantasies at least.”
“Top three, actually.” I pulled him to me as he passed by and gave him a quick kiss. “But the key word is fantasy. Now, come on, we’re going to miss the flight!”
We were on our way to the airport, after which we’d be arriving in England, then traveling over land by something called “coach”—I’d been hoping for a horse-drawn carriage, and was very disappointed when Google had informed me it was just a bus—to Lord Arden’s heritage home. Over the last year Arden Hall had become one of the hottest vacation spots in Europe, partly due to how smart Ollie had been in running the place, and partly due to the massive promotion run by Jon, Ezra and Tristan’s blossoming social media company. But despite their success and the demand for winter vacation stays, Ollie had closed Arden Hall over Christmas and New Year to all but their closest of friends.
Damon and I were included in that group, and the thought made me warm inside, in spite of the freezing weather. Not that England would be much better—but at least we’d be running around a legit castle, instead of making sure there was enough dry wood cut and stored to heat Grahame Cabin.
We owed a lot to our friends this year. Damon had qualified as a registered nurse six months back, and was immediately offered a job at Kincaid Memorial. We’d had a lot of discussions about that—part of me thought it would be fun to move to New York, but when it came down to it, I didn’t want to leave the estate. I’d miss the woods too much, and the lake, and the blue sky, and the clean air.
It suited us better for Damon to move in with me—and that’s exactly what he’d done this past summer.
We were also lucky because he’d been granted more time off from work than he’d expected. We both figured that Cooper Kincaid—or his dad—had had something to do with that. As for me, Stan had happily signed off on me taking leave, as long as I promised to come back—and Mrs. Kincaid had also agreed, after Jon helped make the arrangements for her usual Christmas Gala, held this year at their Hartford home.
The same crew who’d been at Jon’s wedding last year would be there in England this year, and if it was becoming a tradition to hang out with all of them, I didn’t mind at all. I’d seen Jon and Cooper several times throughout the year, but was looking forward to spending dedicated time with them over the holidays. Plus we’d be catching up with Sebastian and Ezra, Seth and Tristan—even Xander and Ben, who had been collaborating on a film together in London for the last few months, were going to spend New Year’s Eve at Arden Hall.
I was looking forward to seeing all of them, even Brandon, who was coming along despite being single these days. Heath had tried hard, Jon had told me privately, but Brandon had worn him down in the end. “Maybe we can get Ollie to set him up with some hunky countryside farmer,” he’d said in one video call.
“Sure, Jonny,” I’d sighed, “or we can butt out and let Brandon get his own shit together.”
There was a long pause. “You’re right,” he’d said at last, and I knew he was thinking about the stupid thing Damon and I had done at his wedding. But now, maybe, he could see exactly why it had occurred to me in the first place. “I can be a little overbearing sometimes,” he’d admitted. “I’ll let Brandon do his own thing.”
But the thing I was most happy about this year was my relationship with Damon. It had been quite a year, and we were making it work beyond my wildest dreams. I’d been so happy I’d even been able to laugh off the texts that still came through in the first few months of the year from one Miles Vanderhoven. Eventually, on my suggestion, we’d given Miles a taste of his own medicine.
Damon didn’t want to go quite as far as I was willing to—he nixed the idea of sending a video of me sucking his dick. We settled on a happy, cuddly selfie and an accompanying message from Damon that he’d heard Miles had been blacklisted from the kink scene in LA, and if he didn’t quit texting Damon…
He didn’t even finish the sentence, but Miles got the message. Not a single peep since then.
And Damon and I had only fallen deeper and deeper in love.
Thankfully, we made it to the airport on time, and were surprised to see Brandon also waiting at the gate for our international flight to London.
“Hey, there,” Damon said, patting Brandon on the back. “It's good to see you.”
“We’re really glad you’re coming,” I added, giving Brandon a sympathetic smile and a warm hug.
Brandon smiled back, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “It's good to see you, too.”
It was hard not to notice how much he fiddled with the neckline of his sweater, as though he missed the weight of his collar. Damon and I had never been interested in taking our relationship in that direction. We weren’t exactly traditionalists in the first place, and seeing the angst collars—or the lack of them—caused people like Brandon only confirmed for me how much I wasn’t interested.
