Page 32 of Forever Finn
“No.” Jess turns his attention to me. “He’s very thorough when cooking outside I promise, it’s just no matter what he does he seems to cause more damage than Woodstock ’99.” He points and I see at least three fire extinguishers set up at intervals around the garden. “Last time we nearly lost the fence. The neighbours weren’t especially pleased, but we bribed them with a case of Ryan’s beer, and we’re all friends again now.” He lifts his hand and waves to a man in his late sixties who’s wearing socks and sandals, a pair of khaki shorts, and a buttoned up beige cardigan. “Hey, Roy!” Jesse nods and Roy lifts a beer bottle in greeting and smiles. “We figured he’s less likely to call the police if we make him an accomplice. Besides, his wife Alice makes the best homemade coleslaw.”
I snigger under my breath and something in my belly relaxes. It’s all so refreshingly normal, something that’s been missing from my life for far too long. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had some amazing experiences. I’ve visited places most people can only dream of, and I have more money than I know what to do with most days. But most importantly, the life I live gave me Skylar and she’s everything to me. I don’t know how I would have survived without her.
But… I finally allow my gaze to track over to the tall beautiful blonde Canadian, and my heart once again gives a helpless little knock against my ribs as if it’s trying to tap something out in morse code.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I slide it free just far enough to realise it’s my manager calling again. Having no desire to be yelled at again, I decline the call and switch my phone to silent.
I turn my attention back to Wyatt as he laughs loudly again and something in my stomach sours. I wish I had more time, but our time is running out. Whenever I think about leaving and never seeing him again, something that I don’t want to name, but that rather closely resembles panic, hits me like a freight train.
“Holy fucking shit,” a loud posh voice exclaims. Jesse and I look over to find Beck and Nat stepping out into the garden. “Is this a barbecue or a cremation?” Nat coughs and fans the dense smoke away from his face. “Deacon! What the hell are you doing to my prime rib?”
“You gave it to me.” He grins from across the garden waving his spatula imperiously. “Therefore, it is now my prime rib.”
“You’re supposed to cook it, not ensure it could only be identified by dental records,” Nat replies flatly.
“Babe, I’m pretty sure it no longer has teeth,” Beck remarks casually as Nat turns to glare at him.
“Christ.” Nat sighs dramatically as he eyes the charred meat. “It’s like that Looney Tunes episode when Marvin the Martian disintegrates Daffy Duck with his ray gun. There’s going to be nothing left but a little pile of black ashes waving a white flag.”
“Hey, who wants steak?” Deak yells.
“Deacon James! Don’t you dare touch those rump steaks.” Nat stalks across the garden as Beck stops beside me and his twin. He reaches into the cooler and pulls out a beer as he blatantly checks out his fiancés arse.
“He’s so hot when he’s pissed off.” Beck grins as he pops the top and takes a swig. “Nat’s accent gets posher the madder he gets, it’s so sexy.”
“Do you have to stand there drooling over him?” Jesse rolls his eyes.
“Like you don’t do exactly the same with Deak,” Beck snorts.
“Touché.”
I watch as the twins stand side by side, holding their beers in the same hands. They give an identical head tilt that couldn’t have been more synchronised if they’d planned it. They both raise their beers to their lips and sip as they watch their respective partners arguing over the grill.
I find myself wondering what that must feel like. To be so comfortable in my own skin, in my own sexuality that I could not only blatantly check out my man but acknowledge it openly in public.
My gaze once again tracks over to Wyatt, and this time his eyes lock with mine, and he gives me a small half smile. My heart once again gives a traitorous thud and rolls over like a shameless puppy waiting for belly rubs. I tear my gaze away from his and scratch uncomfortably at the label on my beer bottle as I’m hit with a wave of longing so strong my stomach clenches. What I wouldn’t give to be able to stroll confidently across the garden and lift Wyatt’s face and plant a kiss on those beautiful lips so everyone here knows he’s mine.
Except he’s not mine.
I can’t ask him to climb into the closet with me and not only that, what sort of life can I offer him? He’s planning on staying here with Jesse and the others in their perfect little world of backyard barbecues and secret cinema nights. Whereas I…
I’m going to have to go home.
My times up, even though I’ve switched my phone to silent it’s still vibrating like crazy in my pocket with message after message. I yank it from my pocket and switch it off completely. My manager Simon made it very clear to me yesterday, my childish tantrum is over. It’s time to get my arse back to LA and back to work. He may have been able to negotiate my way out of the role I walked out on, but he had ten more just like it lined up for me.
The thought is so depressing I hardly know what to do with it. I’m so torn. I glance around the garden, and I want this so badly. I want real friends, a real life. I want to be with the guy I’m….
I pull myself back from that slippery slope so fast I almost get vertigo.
I may have very strong, intense feelings for Wyatt, but I can’t let it be more than that. The last time I took a chance, one of my best friends ended up dead. I can’t do it, not again. I can’t put myself out there. For one crazy moment when I first arrived back in the bay, I thought I could, but the truth is I can’t. The thought of coming out terrifies me.
For an awful moment I’m transported back nearly twenty years, staring into the horrified and confused face of the one person I’d trusted with my secret.
“Uh, Beck, I think one of us should break this up. They’re armed with kebab skewers now,” Jesse murmurs.
“My money’s on Nat.” Beck sips his beer casually as he watches the drama unfolding across the garden.
“Please,” Jesse scoffs. “Deak's got a good twenty pounds on Nat. Your fiancé may be hot, but a stiff wind would blow him over.”