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“Just for her, yes?” I say, lowering my voice as I hand the phone back. “Can’t have it online. Remember the non-disclosure.”
“Of course, of course,” he assures me. “No internet. Promise.”
“I appreciate it, thank you,” I reply, sitting. “Which reminds me,” I add, glancing around the table. “I’d rather my being here this weekend stays discreet please. So, if you could refrain from telling anyone, and please don’t share my location or any photos of me online.”
“Yeah, obviously dude, you’re entitled to privacy,” Ember agrees, without hesitation. Which is new.
“No problem at all,” Luna says, smiling warmly.
Lennie nods in agreement adding, “we got you son.”
For just a second, the warmth leaves Saint’s face. Then it’s back again, as though I’d imagined it. “No posting this weekend,” he repeats with an easy smile. “Your secret’s safe with us,” he nods almost absently, thumb rubbing over the locket resting against his chest.
“Thank you.”
The conversation naturally flows into something that feels… Normal. Plates keep passing, and drinks keep flowing, as laughter floats on the breeze, and a warm, easy calm settles over the table. For once, I’m not thinking of the weekend as work or an appearance; I’m seeing it the way they do. Something fun, nostalgic even. A chance to connect with others and make memories. No one’s putting me on a pedestal either. They talk to me like I’m just another regular person, and, unexpectedly, I like it.
Chapter 8
Saint
By the time the afternoon sun climbs higher, bathing the courtyard in warm golden light, lunch has become a pleasant blur. No-one seems in any hurry to leave the outdoor sofas, where we all naturally congregated as the table was cleared. Wine bottles chill in coolers on low tables, laughter seeps between the bricks, and I find myself doing what I always do, watching people too closely—collecting details that don’t belong to me—and looking for their story.
The couple, Luna and Lennie, fascinate me. They’re in their early to mid-fifties, married for thirty years, and yet, opposites in almost every visible way, which always piques my interest. She looks like she was born under a full moon, all soft edges and glowing aura. With a soothing sing-song lilt to her voice that belies her Irish accent. She’s beautiful and soft. Pale skinned, with long silver hair that falls loosely around layers of flowing fabric. He on the other hand, looks like he was born climbing mountains, all broad shoulders and solid muscle. He’s classically handsome and rugged, with a strong Scottish accent. His dark brown skin is accentuated by the salt and pepper of his hair and beard. A former army sergeant who now runs survival courses on the stretch of land surrounding their home in the Highlands. He isn’t unfriendly; he’s just far more observant than most people, and that makes me wary, because if anyone here is going to see through my act, it will be him.
“If you’ve never experienced love,” Ember says thoughtfully, “do you still think you can tell when you are falling into it?”
There’s a small pause around our little group, that fractured naturally from the pack after lunch. Settling into smaller orbits instead of one big conversation. The three women more or less adopted me, with that easy teasing that feels like we’ve known each other longer than a few hours.
Across the firepit, on the other sofa, Lennie and Jax are deep in conversation again. Bonded by their love of marathons, mountains, and an alarming enthusiasm for voluntarily running through bad weather. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Lennie laughs at something Jax says, the kind of deep, genuine laugh that only comes when you’re completely at ease. Jax answers with one of his own, head tipped back, looking younger than he has any right to. I look away. People like him aren’t supposed to seem... Ordinary. Then again, that’s the trouble with celebrities. You never know which version you’re getting.
“Jesus,” Bri mutters into her wine glass. “Light topic.”
I let out a low chuckle. “Avoiding the question, Miss Bri?”
She shrugs, as colour rises in her cheeks again. “I dunno. I’ve never been in love,” she says quietly, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Bit hard when you’re awkward as fuck and generally… Too much for most people.” The second the words leave her mouth; she winces like she wants to take them back.
“You’re not too much,” Luna replies firmly, startling us. She tucks one leg beneath herself on the sofa, wine glass in hand. “Honestly, I used to think I was unlovable all the time when I was younger. Turns out I was just surrounded by arseholes.” She chuckles. “And when I met Lennie, I realised that the right people, they accept you, as you are.”
Ember glances at her. “How do you know? That people are the right people I mean?”
“You just know,” Luna states, shrugging. “There’s no need to perform or pretend around them, it’s… Safe in a way life never was before.”
“That’s exactly how I felt when I met Aaron,” I say, smiling to myself. “Like finally here was someone like me. And I don’t just mean gay.” They all laugh. “We just… Clicked, like two people speaking the same language after spending years of getting everything translated wrong,” I finish quietly.
Across the firepit, Jax is listening. Not politely waiting for his turn to speak. Actually listening. I hate that I notice.
Luna’s expression softens. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“When did you know you were in love?” Ember asks, curling up, her knees tucked beneath her chin. “Like, know, know.”
Glancing down at my glass, a smile tugs at my lips. “Honestly? It was stupidly small. I’d spent my whole life apologising for things without realising it. Talking too much, getting too excited, disappearing into my own head for hours…”
“Mood,” Ember and Bri mutter in unison, giggling quietly at their synchronisation.
“And then one day I stopped halfway through saying sorry for rambling and Aaron just looked at me and said, ‘you know I like listening to you, right?’ I felt… Seen.”
Jax smiles at me and for one ridiculous second, I wonder what kind of man smiles at someone else’s love story like that. Then I remember exactly who I’m looking at.
