I laughed because my body felt the same and I was only a couple of years younger than Eric. Then again, we’d all spent our twenties on the London party scene together, doing a lot of drinking, dancing, drugs, and fucking as many cute guys as possible, and continuously making choices that were starting to come back to haunt us.
We’d done things like stay up until five, go to the gym in an attempt to sober up, shower, turn up to work at nine having drunk three cans of Red Bull and two double espressos while clutching a croissant from Pret and wearing sunglasses and had thought nothing of it. Except now my back hurt, my knees ached, too much caffeine made me nauseous, and anything less than seven hours of sleep made me feel like a walking corpse. And Iwas starting to regret not developing a skincare routine until I was thirty.
Reed had always said we deserved to live to prove to everyone who’d wanted us dead that we’d always be here. To defy everyone who hated us by refusing to be forced into the boxes society had tried to force on us. And I still agreed with him. Life was for living, for enjoying, for wringing every last drop of joy out of.
But he’d taken that joy from me, and I didn’t know if I’d ever get it back.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Eric asked quietly as his eyes flickered over to watch Shane heading for the stairs, his gaze unsubtly fixed on his husband’s arse.
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged, turning his head back to me and smiling, almost sadly. “You get this look in your eyes, a slightly faraway one, like you’re reliving something. And like you’re never quite sure if you should be happy or sad about it.”
“I don’t,” I said. “Know, that is. I want to hate him, and maybe I do, but also we shared so much for so long. It feels like so much of who I am is tied to him, and I’m still trying to figure out what parts of me are me and what’s him. It’s like trying to unpick a really fucked-up, tangled ball of wool or something.”
Eric nodded. “It has to be hard, especially since you knew him for so long. I can’t imagine trying to figure out who I am without Shane. I don’t know if it would be possible. Sorry, that makes me sound like a right twat.”
“Yes, but it means you get it. I’d rather you be honest than offer me bullshit platitudes about finding myself.” I’d had so much advice and sympathy from other well-meaning friends that I was about ready to scream the next time someone said anything about self-discovery or how unpacking my relationshipwith Reed would bring me peace. I didn’t want peace. I wanted my fucking life back.
And my house, but that wasn’t up to me apparently.
God, I hoped the solicitor I’d hired was worth the extortionate amount of money I was paying him.
“Happy to help,” Eric said as Shane appeared above us and waved wildly at the doorway behind him. Which could only mean he’d found somewhere for us to sit. “And if that means buying you a ton of martinis and distracting you with endless stories about our nightmare kitchen renovation, then we can do that.” He laughed. “Wow, I sound so old. Since when was kitchen renovations our go-to conversation?”
“And yet, I want to hear all about it.” I meant it too. If only because it might make me feel slightly better about the shitbox of a kitchen I was currently being forced to endure.
I took another sip of my martini before following Eric towards the stairs, my eyes casually roaming around the bar. The summer weather had clearly encouraged people to find somewhere to spend the afternoon with cold drinks on tap, and most of the tables and booths were already full, including the tiny metal tables on the pavement outside the front window. There were more people crowded around the bar, many of them looking around for somewhere to sit, the noise level increasing with every passing second until I could barely hear myself think.
I doubted it was going to be any quieter upstairs either.
As I stepped around another group of people spilling over the small table they’d acquired, my gaze landed squarely on a man standing at the far end of the bar, surrounded on either side but clearly on his own. I knew who it was without a closer look because I’d seen his face so much at work it would be impossible for me not to recognise him.
Danny Wheeler, one of the Knights wingers and owner of the most ridiculous haircut I’d seen since the days of frosted tips.
He glanced away when he saw me, grabbing the cocktail menu on the bar and staring at it like his life depended on it. Too bad it was upside down.
I smirked as I sipped my drink, a strange feeling bubbling in my stomach. Danny was a good-looking man, there was no denying that, and he knew it too—I’d seen it in the way he postured and posed, walking around the training fields half-naked as soon as the sun was out. But there was something else too and I didn’t even know if he realised he was doing it.
Whenever he saw me, he stared.
And not in a bored, switched-off way, like he didn’t give a fuck about whatever content we were supposed to be filming or discussing.
But in a focused, interested way, almost like a curious puppy tilting his head trying to figure out the thing in front of him. Or perhaps, in Danny’s case, the feelings inside him. Because I’d seen those looks before from guys who were starting to work out things about themselves but weren’t really sure how to go about doing anything about it.
And fuck, they were my weak spot. I couldn’t help it.
Was it bad? Maybe. Predatory? I hoped not. Although maybe it would be now I was thirty-eight, not twenty-two.
Danny looked at me over the top of the menu again, then jumped when the bartender arrived to ask him what he wanted. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but he was chatting animatedly, the same way he always did, and laughing. Maybe at his own foolishness. Maybe at something the other guy had said.
Either way, it was endearing.
“Hey, Ezra, are you coming?” Eric called from the top of the stairs and I froze, because for a minute I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to be joining him and Shane.
“Er, yeah,” I said, glancing up at him. “Is there a bar upstairs? If not, I’ll order another round before I come up to keep us going. Save one of us coming back down.”
“Let me check.” Eric disappeared and I used the time to check on Danny, who was still stood at the bar paying for his drink. Good, that meant he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
