Tom chuckled. “Maybe. Regardless, I’m pleased for you, Nero. You deserve to be happy, even if you think you don’t.”
Nero had never been sure how much Tom knew of his history, but in that moment it was obvious he knew it all. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve.”
“No, Nero, I don’t, which is a shame, because I reckon it’s a hell of a lot more than you’ll ever give yourself. Now, shall we end this conversation before you lamp me one? I have enough to do without getting decked.”
Nero was saved from having to formulate a response by sinuous arms winding around him from behind. Tom forgotten, Nero spun and lifted Lenny clean from the ground in a crushing bear hug. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“Are you being serious, or dying for a smoke?”
Lenny’s voice was muffled against Nero’s chest. Nero loosened his grip a little and let him breathe. “I don’t give a fuck about your packet of fags. Got me own earlier.”
“You’re serious, then?”
“Deadly.”
Lenny’s answering smile was dazzling. “I had great day, if it’s any consolation. Jake’s taught me loads of cool digital-art stuff. He’s going to help me finish all of the menus and marketing stuff later so we can get an overnight order to the printers. It’s going to be tight, but if I get it done we’ll be laughing.”
The spark in Lenny’s half-manic gaze was infectious. In projects gone by, any enthusiasm Nero might have had at the beginning was long gone by this stage, eclipsed by exhaustion. But Lenny had changed all that—changed Nero—and the imminent opening truly felt like the fresh start they both needed, perhaps even deserved. “Are you coming home tonight?”
“Are you?”
Nero eyed the chaos of the restaurant’s section of the kitchen and considered if he had time to hoof it back to Pippa’s. “Doubt it. Efe’s coming in early to talk me through the changes she’s made to the bread menu, but I don’t think I’ll be ready for her until gone midnight. Too much to do.”
Lenny’s face fell. Despite starting the week with a bang—literally—they’d only made it home to the same bed two nights since—Lenny kipping with Jake at the Hampstead flat Urban Soul had finally bought last year, and Nero forgoing any sleep at all as he and Cass worked through the night to get the kitchen properly set up. “You’ll be home in the morning, though, right? You need to sleep, or you’ll make yourself sick again.”
Nero refrained from rolling his eyes and instead focused on the distraction of Lenny’s sinful fingers dancing a path up and down his spine. “Trust me, I’m sleeping all day tomorrow. Cass has banned me from every site until the evening.”
“Well, I’m banning you too, just in case you’re thinking of not listening to him, and I’ve already told Steph not to bother you.”
“She still getting on Jimbo’s case?”
“Yup. Debs says they hate each other, which means they’re probably shagging, right?”
“They’ve managed not to as long as I’ve known them, and I ain’t never hated you.”
Lenny’s grin turned wicked. “Good, ’cause you fuck me well enough as it is. Don’t think I could handle you angry.” He checked his phone. “Shit, I’ve got to go.”
Nero grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. You’re staying with Jake, though, right? I don’t want you wandering around by yourself later.”
“Later? Jesus, Nero, I wandered around London on my own just fine my whole life until—well, you know. But that’s done with now. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.”
“Humour me.”
“Okay, okay. If we’re not done by midnight, I’ll stay with Jake again.”
“Make it eleven.”
Lenny huffed. “Okay, but only because you’re fit as fuck when you go all daddy-bear on me.”
Daddy-bear? Fuck that. But Nero didn’t argue—how could he when Lenny put his hands on his chest and kissed the shit out of him? How could he do anything but kiss him back and growl gruff words of love he’d never uttered to another soul?
Then Lenny left. Nero watched him go, weaving through the restaurant, guiding Jake, who seemed to be having trouble keeping his often-wayward arms in check. Letting Lenny leave his side was always hard, but for some reason today it hurt more than usual, like they were parting for months, instead of a night that would pass in a flash of industrial pans of artisan bread dough. Nero raised his hand to his chest, like he could push the piece of his heart Lenny had taken with him back in.
But it was no good. Being without Lenny was torture, and the only way to survive it was to work like a dog until it was over.
It was past dawn the following morning when Nero drifted home under a cloud of flour and fatigue. He let himself into the flat, half-hoping to find Lenny in bed. Disappointment warred with relief when he found the sheets unslept in. Lenny had, for once, done as he was told and stayed with Jake, but Christ, Nero missed him.
A shower and an abandoned cuppa followed, and Nero fell asleep to the sound of the bin lorries rumbling up and down the streets below. He woke sometime later to a still-empty bed, a pounding heart, and a blank phone. Shit. Groggy, he stumbled up and plugged it into the wall. He shivered as a cool breeze filtered through the open windows, but the goose bumps tingling his naked flesh remained as he returned to bed, and under the covers, he couldn’t get warm. A hot shower was tempting, but his body was too weary to move, and he drifted back to sleep with an odd air of foreboding colouring his dreams.
