“No, sweetheart,” Art laughed, though it tugged at his heart a little to know Graeme would jump straight to the conclusion of one or both of him and Ryan getting tired of him. Then again, that was Graeme’s only experience with a gay relationship. Damien had messed him up, but that just motivated Art to put him back together even more.
“I’m not going to get tired of you,” he said affectionately, wishing they weren’t in a car, speeding toward Cornwall, so that he could take his sweet boy into his arms as he reassured him. “Ryan’s not going to either. The three of us work perfectly together. We have from the start and we always will.”
“How can you be so certain of that?” Graeme asked, his face pinched as he stared distantly at the road in front of them. “How can you know that things won’t fall apart and leave us all hurting and alone again.”
Damien definitely needed to have his balls ripped off. Mavis and Graeme’s whole family, too. They’d all contributed to the fear of relationships that Graeme obviously had.
“None of us ever really know what the future holds,” Art told him honestly. “But I fully believe that the success or failure of any relationship comes down to the motivation that the people involved in it have to stay in that relationship.”
“I’m not sure I know what that means,” Graeme said, staring down at his hands, which were now folded in front of him, almost like he was praying for everything to work out.
Art felt safe enough to reach over and take one of his hands, squeezing it, eyes still on the road. “It means that as long as the three of us are open and unfailingly honest with each other at all times, as long as we work hard to support each other and put ‘us’ ahead of you or me or any one of us, we’ll be together for a long, long time to come.”
“Do you believe that relationships can last a lifetime these days?” Graeme asked, still painfully vulnerable.
“Yes,” Art said, which came as a surprise to himself as much as anyone. “And do you know what else?”
“What?” Graeme asked, looking at him like he had all the answers in the universe.
“I think the three of us are endgame,” Art said, risking a quick glance at Graeme and a smile before driving demanded his attention. “Yeah, yeah, I know that in the grander scheme of things we all just met, but it feels like we’ve been together forever. It feels like we will be together forever.”
“I think so, too,” Graeme whispered, so adorable he made Art want to pull over to the side of the road, jump in the back seat with him, and hump until they were both empty.
They couldn’t do any of that, of course. They were still at the beginning of what was bound to be a mad couple of days. But at least he and Graeme had a few hours of peace and rambling conversation to enjoy as they drove through the south of England toward Cornwall and Penwith Grange. It made the almost five-hour drive far more enjoyable than Art would have thought it would be.
It was well into evening by the time they pulled into Penwith’s parking lot.
“This place is lovely,” Art said, getting out of the car and fetching his overnight bag from the back seat.
“You should have seen it back in July, when the roses were blooming,” Graeme said, grabbing his things as well.
“If we have time, you’ll have to give me a tour,” Art said, smiling and taking Graeme’s hand as they walked into the vast, quaint estate.
They were met by Mrs. St. Ives almost at once in the entry hall-turned-lobby.
“There you are,” the stately, older woman said, pressing a hand to her heart. To Art, she looked like the perfect mid-century matron, but one with energy and brightnesssurrounding her. She took one look at Art and Graeme’s hands entwined and said, “I thought you were dating the other one.”
Graeme shot a worried look at Art and let go of his hand. “I…erm…oh.”
There was something about Mrs. St. Ives that Art liked at once, something that told him the old firecracker was more than met the eye. So against what probably should have been his better judgement, he said, “Heisdating the other one. So am I. It’s all very modern and verboten.”
Graeme’s face lost all its color. He looked like he might murder Art. Or throw up. Until Mrs. St. Ives burst into laughter. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not, but I had a friend just like you back in the sixties.”
Art turned to Graeme with a shit-eating grin. “Never underestimate a wily, old woman with a vast house and gardens that need redoing,” he said, then winked.
“I wish I had more time to entertain the two of you,” Mrs. St. Ives went on laughing. “But I have an engagement later this evening. So let’s get right down to it.”
Just like Art knew it would, Graeme’s meeting about garden design went perfectly. Mrs. St. Ives was impressed by the work Graeme had put into his designs and the variety of ideas she had to choose from. Art sat in as they met in one of the gardens, beaming with pride in his boyfriend, but when Ryan rang, he excused himself so he could take the call.
“How’s it going?” Ryan asked, sounding tense, a load of talking and party sounds going on behind him.
“Splendidly,” Art said. “Mrs. St. Ives is a treasure, and I can tell she adores Graeme.”
“Who doesn’t adore Graeme?” Ryan asked.
“I certainly do,” Art went on, glancing back at Graeme as he gestured enthusiastically around the garden while painting averbal picture of what he had in mind for Mrs. St. Ives. “I’m head over heels for our boy,” he added.
Ryan hummed. “Me, too,” he said. A moment later, he was tense and anxious again as he said, “I love you, too, you know.”
