Corey
Iwant to stay in his arms the whole time I’m here. There’s no place on Earth quite like Nash’s embrace, and I want to revel in it.
All too soon, we’re separating and making our way indoors. His hand curls over mine, and our fingers entwine as though they’ve never known how to be without the other. When we exit the kitchen through the back door, I see that Emma is already being introduced to all of Nash’s family, and she’s got the twins howling with laughter already.
Bev waves at me from her spot on one of the patio chairs, and I wave back enthusiastically. I look up at Nash to see him smiling down at me. I grin back, then incline my head towardhis mum. He nods and reluctantly releases my hand.
“Hi Bev,” I say, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”
“All the better for seeing you, darling. You look so well.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I look fat?” I tease, and she sputters at me with a gentle slap to the back of my hand.
“Get away with you.” She stands from her chair, takes my hand, and leads me over to a quiet corner of the garden. “How are you really, sweet boy,” she says, cupping my face with soft hands, her mother’s touch a panacea for the grief I still carry for my grandmother, who was more of a mother to me than my own. I’ve learned, and come to accept, that grief isn’t something we ever truly heal from. Rather, we learn to live with it, and over time, the pain eases, but never really goes away. It’s about adjusting to life in a world without that person.
I’m getting there, but this is one of the things I’ve been struggling with the most in therapy. The way she died, my inability to get to see her before she passed, and the rejection from my parents all over again were a much deeper trauma than I had allowed myself toacknowledge. I’m getting there, but it’s hard.
I spend a few minutes catching up with Bev, and when we rejoin the rest of the party, I’m introduced to Shelley, Owen, and some of Nash’s colleagues. I have to admit, the way he introduces me with my hand held tight in his helps me relax. He’s introducing me as though I’m someone to him. Someone important. Just as he is someone very important to me.
Nancy attached herself to my leg for a short while until she got comfortable around Emma, but now the two of them have disappeared inside to play ‘hairdressers’, Nancy’s new obsession.
It’s getting late in the afternoon, and most of the guests have gone home. The Foster family, Sam, Emma, and I are the only ones left, and we’re enjoying a leisurely, if somewhat cold, late afternoon together. Before long, we move inside, as in classic British barbecue fashion, the clouds descend, and it starts pouring rain.
We’re crowded in the dining room and kitchen, nobody using any of the seats, just meandering between the drinks laid out on the kitchen island, and the food rescued from the rain and placed on the dining table.
A while ago, Nancy convinced Aidan to beher next ‘client’ at the salon, and Rain leaves his wine glass behind as he goes in search of his boyfriend. He hasn’t been gone long when his voice carries through the whole house.
“Ohmigod! What happened?” Nash and I are the first into the living room, Nash’s face pale and clearly terrified that she has hurt herself or something, but we just find her looking a little shell-shocked at her uncle Rain, while Aidan is rolling on the floor in what I initially fear is agony. The twins crash into us as they rush over, too, and Bev and Mike emerge from the kitchen at a more reasonable pace, Wren following behind with Sam, both holding a fresh glass of wine and making moon eyes at each other.
I can’t wait to catch up with her and find out what has been going on with the two of them. She’s been very quiet about it all recently, and I know more than a few of us are chomping at the bit for the tea.
It turns out that Aidan is not, in fact, in agony. No, he’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe. Confused about what on earth is going on, the whole family eases around him and Nancy in a circle, jostling shoulders to try and see. Nancy has tears in her eyes at the commotion, unsure about what’s going on, but it’s notuntil Nash picks her up before she starts to cry that I see it. Dangling from Nancy’s fingers… is Aidan’s man-bun, now nothing more than a bedraggled tangle of hair held together loosely by the elastic that held it in place.
I snap my head towards him, and sure enough, his hair is falling around his face at odd angles, Nancy’s skill with the very real pair of scissors lying on the floor not quite at the level of Vidal Sassoon. Aidan’s man-bun was seriously sexy, and I know it’s something Rain adored. He looks a little horrified, but Aidan’s laughter is infectious, and before long, we’re all gasping for air.
Realising the scissors are the very same ones he used to cut the ribbon on his gift from his parents – a parenting survival kit in a box the size of a shoebox – I swing my gaze to a very guilty-looking Nash. Nancy wriggles out of Nash’s arms and runs over to Aidan, climbing on him and playing with his hair again. When she goes for the scissors once more, I make a dash and swipe them up before she can get to them, handing her instead the very blunt, plastic pair that she should have been playing with. I drag Nash by the hand into the kitchen and hold the scissors up in front of him.
“Babe, what were you thinking? Why didyou leave these out where she could reach them? She could have hurt someone. She could have hurt herself.” That is really my main concern. It would have been so easy for her to cut herself or trip and… ugh, it doesn’t bear thinking about. OK, I realise I’m being a little bit dramatic, but Jesus Christ, she cut his hair off.
Nash doesn’t look chastened at all; in fact, he looks like he’s fighting against his laughter. “Nash! This isn’t funny. She could have…” Silencing my panic-stricken rant by taking my face in both his hands, he tilts my face up to his… and kisses me.
Oh.
The kiss only lasts a few seconds because Nash starts laughing again, only this time, he can’t contain it. He presses his forehead to mine as he tries to calm down.
“Why are you still laughing?” I demand, eyebrow raised, toe almost tapping in full-on teacher mode.
“Because it’s just desserts after all this time.” Nash chuckles, and I frown in confusion.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, he bloody deserves it. He cut my hair off on purpose when he was seven years old, and I never once retaliated. And now mydaughter has taken revenge on my behalf, so I feel vindicated after all this time, if I’m being completely honest with you.”
I look at him, shocked at his ability to feel smug about something Aidan did twenty-odd years ago.
“Wow,” I say, dragging the word out. “You’ve never been sexier, you know that?” I say, dryly.
“Oh really?” he questions, suggestion heavy in his tone.
