Page 6 of Best Man (Close Proximity #1)

I wander over to the mirror and make myself take a long look at myself.

In my head I itemise the crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes, the wrinkle appearing between my brows, and the flecks of grey that are starting to show in my hair.

Then I make myself look down at my body and remember that I am practically middle-aged and things are not as tight as they were.

I remember Patrick sneering at me when we were arguing once, telling me how ridiculous I was with my crush on a boy.

The words still manage to hurt me, and with all that in the forefront of my mind I let myself think of Jesse’s looks and body again, confident that I’ve come to my senses at last. My cock stirs despite all my efforts.

I’m fucking screwed , I think dolefully. What have I done?

I’m no nearer an answer when I pull up outside his flat and honk the horn.

I look around curiously. At one point this must have been a well-off area because the houses are beautifully proportioned, but then it must have fallen victim to the steady encroach of bedsit land, and here we are.

Windows are dirty with sheets hung up at them rather than curtains.

Rubbish blows idly round in the faint breeze and two dogs are fighting nearby over an upturned rubbish bin.

Movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Jesse coming out of the door of the block of flats.

He’s dressed in faded jeans, a pale blue shirt, and blue and white seersucker striped Vans, and he’s wheeling a suitcase.

He grins at me, and I can’t help the uptick of my lips.

I’ve tried many times but it doesn’t work.

There’s just something about him that makes me smile.

Then I notice the man following him carrying a suit bag and my smile falters slightly.

He’s stunningly beautiful, and the laughing conversation they’re having and their body language displays a familiarity with each other.

I’m so busy staring ahead and trying not to analyse why my spirits have sunk that it takes Jesse three gos at calling my name through the window.

I lower it. “Shit, sorry. I was daydreaming.”

His brow quirks and he grins. It’s glorious at such a close range. “No problem. I just wondered for a second whether I was expected to run behind the car all the way to the Cotswolds.”

“I’m not discounting that option yet,” I say wryly, just to hear him laugh. He has a wonderful laugh. Rich and full and almost dirty.

I open the door and climb out, going round to the boot and opening it.

“Stick your case in here,” I say briskly, watching as the other man ambles over.

He’s dressed in old jeans and a navy T-shirt and he’s wearing flipflops, but he moves like he’s on the catwalk. I blink and Jesse laughs and nudges me.

“I know,” he whispers. “It happens everywhere.”

I turn to him. “I’m not looking at him like that,” I start to say, trying to explain that I’m not leering at his boyfriend.

It would be impossible when all my senses still seem to be tuned to Jesse’s wavelength despite the all-round hopelessness of that silly yearning. Luckily, he saves me the humiliation.

“Charlie has this effect on everyone. Good job he’s oblivious.”

“Don’t you mind?”

He blinks. “Why would I mind?”

“Isn’t this your boyfriend?”

To my astonishment, he laughs loudly. “ No , he’s my flatmate. He’s far too happy for me.” He looks sideways at me. “I like them older and surlier,” he says slowly and no less brutally effectively. I feel my cock stir under that clear brown gaze and leap into evasive manoeuvres.

“Hello.” I smile quickly at Charlie and ignore Jesse. “Do you want to give me that? I’ll hang it in the back of the car.”

He smiles and it’s seriously like an angel has descended.

God knows how he goes about his normal life without his way being littered with smitten bodies.

“Thank you. Bloody coat hanger was hurting my fingers.” He hands it over and reaches out to hug Jesse who’s still smiling curiously at me.

“Have a good time,” he says happily to Jesse. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That actually doesn’t leave me with a very wide field. While the saintly existence seems to suit you, I can’t say I’m gagging to live it with you,” Jesse says. “I’ll deal with things my own way, thank you.”

“Badly then,” the blond man says sadly, surprising a laugh out of me. He smiles at me. “Have a good few days,” he says cheerfully. “Try and keep this one in order.”

“I don’t think I have that level of power.

I’m not exactly sure who does.” We smile at each other and I turn to find Jesse staring at me.

For once there isn’t a trace of a smile on his face and it looks wrong somehow.

He has a face that’s built to display his warmth and charm.

I wonder if he’s having second thoughts.

“You still okay to go?” I ask hesitantly. His expression clears and I contain my sigh of relief when the smile appears again, poking at the corners of that wide mouth like the sun around a cloud.

“Of course,” he says. He hugs his flatmate. “You going to be okay?” he asks somewhat anxiously, and I watch them curiously.

“Of course,” Charlie says. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying exactly.” I tilt my head slightly. Even I can hear the worry. “I’d just be happier if Misha was around. Not that you need him, but you’ve had quite a few episodes lately.”

Charlie steps back, his face closing down slightly. “He’ll be round tonight. He’s got the week planned.” Jesse’s shoulders sag, and his friend smiles. “I’m an adult, Jess. I don’t need to be treated like a–”

“Like a child,” Jesse fills in, smiling wryly. “I know the tune, and I know the lyrics.”

“Well, sing it properly, then,” Charlie advises happily, and, smiling at both of us, he turns and heads back into his flat, oblivious to the woman who nearly walks into a postbox as she stares at him.

Jesses looks at me and laughs. “Happens every time,” he says cheerfully. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I say wryly as we climb into the car.

I drive an Audi which, according to the salesman, is known for its spacious interior.

He obviously hadn’t travelled with Jesse before though, because sitting next to him it’s like the space has suddenly shrunk.

Like we’re in a reverse Tardis where I’m preternaturally aware of the scent of green tea that seems to cling to his skin and that sun-warmed long body .

I should probably break into conversation, but instead I turn the radio up and drive off.

We travel in silence for ten or fifteen minutes while I navigate the early morning rush hour.

Or at least I travel in silence. Jesse talks, but it’s an easy-going chatter that doesn’t require much beyond an occasional yes or no or a grunt.

It isn’t until we’re heading out of London on the motorway and it’s calmed down a bit that he steps up the chat. “So, tell me about the people who are going to be at this do,” he says, stretching his long legs out and sighing happily.

I shoot him a quick look and go back to staring at the road ahead. “Well, there’s Patrick. Did you ever meet him?”

“No. I’ve heard of him though.” I see him look at me from the corner of my eye. “I’ve heard a lot about him,” he says innocently.

“I’m sure,” I say dryly.

“You were together for five years. That’s a long time.”

I suppress a smile at the casual tone that doesn’t quite conceal the curiosity.

“Okay, I’m not one for talking about my private life, but I suppose you deserve to know.

We were together for five years and living together for two, but he never entirely settled into the relationship.

His family has always had a lot of expectations of him, and settling down with a man wasn’t on that list.”

“Let me guess, settling down with a girl and popping out a few children was.”

I shake my head. “You guessed it.” I shrug. “He cheated. I found out. I expected him to be remorseful. To my surprise, he wasn’t. And that’s it.”

“ That’s it ?”

The patent incredulity in his voice makes me smile. “What did you expect?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. More.”

“Why? He’d cheated. There was no way back for me after something like that, and he didn’t appear to be looking for forgiveness anyway.

He’d lined up my replacement before he left.

” I shrug. “Patrick never wastes time. He likes his life to proceed the right way and smoothly. It was never going to be that way with me. ”

“And yet you’re his best man. Why?” He huffs. “I wouldn’t have given the wanker the pickings off my nose.”

I look at him curiously, wondering where this passion is coming from. Youth, I suppose. Although I can’t remember being like that. My idealism left me a long time ago to be replaced by resolve. I envy him.

“Listen, Patrick is who he is. He doesn’t pretend to be anything less or anything more. He’s selfish and arrogant and charming. It’s a slightly dangerous combination. But at one point he was my friend. I haven’t got enough of those to cast one aside just because we didn’t work out romantically.”

“Do friends cheat on one another?”

I shake my head. “Lovers do it all the time,” I say cynically.

He opens his mouth, and I talk quickly because his youth hurts me somewhere in a tiny spot in my chest. “He asked. He caught me at a weak moment, and I said yes.” I wonder whether he’ll ask what that moment was, but to my relief he doesn’t. I don’t think he’d like the answer.

Instead he says calmly, “Okay, tell me about the rest of the cast.”

“Frances is Patrick’s fiancée. She’s twenty-three, I think. The only child of very rich parents. She’s charming and spoilt, but a good hostess. Her mother and father are Charles and Oona. I believe he’s something big in the city.”

“What does that even mean?” he grumbles. “People always say that and it conjures up an image of Godzilla shimmying up the Shard.”