Page 82 of A is for Aftercare

“Not many authors manage it either. I’ve been lucky. I know that. I’ll never take my success for granted.” He tilts his head. “You enjoy being a PA, don’t you?”

"Organising other people? It's my dream job." I press my lips together, and my eyes widen. "Sorry, that probably sounds lame. You create worlds and characters, and I manage your diary."

“It doesn’t sound lame at all.” He squeezes my hand. “I’d be lost without your organisational skills, Archie. God knows no one has ever managed to keep me on track with my words like you do, not to mention the way you’ve kept Kevin off my back.”

My cheeks flush with heat, and I avert my gaze.

“We all have different dreams,” Hamish goes on. “We can’t all be authors. Your dream is no less valid than mine. Neither of ours is less valid than the next person’s. The main thing is, we knew what we wanted, and we worked to make it happen. Never be embarrassed about that.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that before,” I say. “I always thought I was somehow less than my brother, Corey, because he’s a teacher.”

“Less than him?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s helping to educate the next generation. His jobmatters.”

"So does yours. Imagine the outcry from my fans if I'd published that pile of crap I'd started writing?"

I laugh.

“Instead, they’re going to get something much better because of you.”

“I’m not sure that was due to my PA skills.”

“Hush.”

I laugh harder. “I get it. What I do is important to you.”

“You’reimportant to me, Archieosaurus.”

My chest squeezes tight, forcing all the air out of my body. I stare at him, wide-eyed.

“You might want to breathe before you pass out,” Hamish says.

The air whooshes back into my lungs. I blink repeatedly. “I’m…important to you?”

“Aye, you daft idiot. Hadn’t you realised that?”

“We haven’t been together very long.”

“So? Is there an official timeline for relationships that I don’t know about?”

“No…”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“No,” I say more confidently. “There isn’t. You’re important to me too, Sir.”

He smiles. “How would you feel about meeting my friends?”

I wonder if he means the friends who my brothers are involved with. They were all at the party. I’m not sure whether the thought of meeting Hamish’s friends terrifies me or makes me happy. I haven’t even thought about telling my parents that I’m seeing someone yet. I wanted to wait until our relationship felt solid, real, and long term, but maybe it is starting to feel that way.

“I’d like that,” I say, perhaps a little timidly.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you free tomorrow night?”