Page 40 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)

“I have less roots than moss,” I say. I pause to consider the tranquil setting, the smell of barbecue smoke in the air, and the sound of voices and laughter coming from the back of the house. “I have enjoyed being in Cornwall, though.” I turn to him. “Do you like it here?”

“Cornwall?” I nod. “Oh yeah, I love Cornwall. I’ve surfed here on lad’s holidays before. It’s a gorgeous coastline.”

“Could you live here, Eli?”

He hesitates, staring at me. “What are you saying?”

I scuff my foot slightly in the gravel. “I’m just saying that if I hypothetically bought a house down here, could you hypothetically see yourself living in it? Not here, obviously.” I look around. “I do actually require a few shops and pubs and people.”

He reaches up and cups my cheek in his big hand and smiles.

It’s a tender smile that warms his eyes, and I see it a lot when he looks at me.

It always makes me feel humbled, and also slightly wary because there’s obviously a history of mental instability in his family if he’s looking at me like that.

“ Cariad , I’d live anywhere that you were,” he says slowly.

“Anywhere?” I ask flippantly, stopping to clear my throat.

“ Anywhere ,” he promises me. He pauses. “But only if this hypothetical house was bought together with shared money after we’d hypothetically dated for a while beforehand.”

“That hypothetically makes me very happy,” I say gruffly.

“I’m hypothetically glad,” he says solemnly, twisting away, laughing as I pinch his nipples. “Nah, not those, Gid. I need them.”

“What could you possibly need your nipples for?” I say loftily, reaching up to press the doorbell. “Unless you’re considering breastfeeding in the near future.”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t on my ten-year plan, I have to say.”

“You have a ten-year plan?”

“Of course.” He looks at me warily. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not me.” I turn at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. “I have a ten-minute plan. Anything after that smacks of too much structure.”

“You’re like a thirty-nine-year-old toddler,” he says wonderingly. “You’ll need a nap soon and a short stay on the naughty step.”

The door swings open before I can reply, and Oz peers out. “Afternoon, sex addicts.”

Eli groans, and I shake my head. “Do you live here now too? This place gets more like a commune every day.”

“If I lived here I’d be forced to murder Niall,” he says smartly. “And Milo wouldn’t talk to me for a while.”

“How long?” Eli asks.

Oz stops to consider it. “Probably a couple of days, I’d say. Or just until he realised how peaceful and tidy it is without him.”

He stands back. “Welcome to not my home,” he says, throwing his arm out like an estate agent. “We’re in the back.”

“Where’s your daughter?” Eli asks.

“She’s with my mum,” Oz says happily. “She met a bloke on a cruise a few months ago and he’s brought her down here for the weekend. They’ve taken Cora to Newquay.”

“Well, I suppose someone has to.” I shudder slightly at the thought.

He laughs. “Cora will love it. Tacky shops, sand and sea and endless ‘e’ numbers.” He pauses.

“We do need to move this along, though. Silas and I are here to drink and eat loads and then it’s back to the house for us so we can have incredibly noisy sex without our daughter shouting for a new nappy. ”

Eli laughs. We wander down the hall, and I smile and shake my head. “Purple.”

Eli looks up at the walls which are a rich aubergine colour. “What’s wrong with that? It’s a lush colour, that is.”

Oz laughs. “Niall didn’t do colour in this house when he was on his own.

The boldest he got was painting the lounge grey, and I think he had to have a sit down after that.

Now, he has red on the walls in the kitchen, bronze in the bedroom, and the downstairs loo is yellow.

This is all Milo, and because it’s him, Niall is of course adamant that he likes it. ”

Eli looks at me as if expecting me to wince at the mention of Niall’s devotion, and I shake my head at him. “I keep expecting him to grow a handlebar moustache and crack a whip,” I muse.

Oz grins. “He’s definitely bossy enough to run a circus.”

“From what I’ve heard of the men he employs, he’s already achieved that dream.”

“Is one of them called Phil?” Eli asks. “Because Niall sent him to prune the rose bushes in the back garden yesterday. It was while you were up at the big house.”

“Did he do it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, he dug up a big bush in the field and then chased the sheep for a bit.” He pauses. “He didn’t catch any, though, so that’s okay.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Oz says, pushing the back door open. “Because the sheep are far too wily for Phil. They’ll have told him they were tourists.”

“Probably better behaved than the tourists on this estate,” I say, blinking as we move out into the garden.

It’s changed since I was here last. The patio of York stone has been extended, and on it they’ve set a long patio table with eight chairs around it.

The rest of the garden is a riot of colour with a big silver birch tree bending elegantly over everything.

“This is nice,” I say as Milo comes towards us, smiling happily.

“Thank you,” he says, hugging me and then letting me go to hug Eli too. Eli blinks but tentatively returns it, and I smile as I look at the two men who mean the most to me.

“Welcome,” Milo says to Eli. “You’ve been locked up in that house with Gideon for so long.”

“He wasn’t locked up,” I say indignantly. “He could leave at any time.”

“Not until the Stockholm Syndrome had passed,” Niall offers from his position next to the barbecue.

I raise a middle finger, and Milo laughs before turning back to Eli. “Still, do you need anything after the last few days? A drink, some Valium, a psychiatrist?”

I shake my head as everyone including Eli bursts into laughter. “Wankers,” I say calmly and make my way over to where Silas is sitting in a patio chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His hair is wild, his beard even wilder, but he looks contented and slightly sleepy.

“I’ll sit with you,” I say decisively. “At least I’ll get some relief from the constant piss-taking.”

He grins at me. “You seem happy.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been round to see me,” I say, taking a bottle of Bud from Milo with a nod of thanks.

“Oh, I called round.” I look at him and he winks. “The window was open and there was a lot of very loud groaning and shouting. I presumed you were rearranging the furniture.”

Milo laughs loudly, and I shake my head. “Why did I think you’d be a bastion of mental stability?”

“It’s beyond me,” Niall offers. “Have you met his husband?”

Oz settles down into the chair next to Silas and raises a lazy middle finger at Niall, who laughs and turns back to the food.

“I was thinking today that it’s been a bit like having Errol Flynn on the property,” Silas muses. “We were just missing the sword fighting. I bet you could do a cracking Australian accent, though.”

Oz snorts and I shake my head. “How old are you? I know you’re nearly forty, but inside you must beat the heart of an eighty-year-old.”

“While you have Jim Morrison’s.”

“I’ll take that.” I kick out a chair for Eli as he comes over to the table. “Come and sit down.” I smile at him. “Although I’m apologizing in advance for this lot.”

“How rude,” Oz sniffs and spoils the impression of indignation by winking at Eli. “How are you enjoying Cornwall, Eli?”

He hesitates and then gives his wide, lazy smile. “Well, I haven’t seen much of it, to be honest. What with Gid chaining me to his bed and all. But it’s been a nice holiday and a bit of a rest for me.”

Everyone bursts into laughter, and I lean into him and smile because I can’t help it.

Niall starts to dish up the food, and Milo moves around setting out platters of salads and bread on the table and replenishing drinks.

As he puts a plate of steaks down on the table, Oz looks around. “I think we’ve actually got enough numbers now to form a group like the Spice Girls.”

“What would your nickname be?” Milo immediately asks.

“Snarky Spice,” Niall shouts.

Oz shakes his head. “While yours would be He Thinks He’s Funny but He’s Actually Not, so He Needs to Stop Talking Spice.”

Niall blinks as he comes over with a plate of burgers. “That’s a bit of a mouthful. Can’t I have something short and snappy? That’s not you, by the way, Oz.”

Oz raises his middle finger. “Yes, you can have something short and snappy. How about Twatty Spice?”

“What would his outfit be?” Eli asks, settling back in his chair and taking the hand I offer him. I smile at him, aware of Silas watching us.

“Something slutty,” Milo offers.

I laugh, and Niall shakes his head. “Milo, you actually wound me.”

“I’d wound you more if it wasn’t the truth.”

“Not anymore,” Niall says and kisses the smile on my brother’s face.

We fall on the food, making appreciative noises and occasionally pausing to take the piss out of Niall.

Finally, Oz settles back. “So, Niall is Twatty Spice.”

“I am not,” Niall says crossly.

“So Niall is Twatty Spice,” Oz continues undeterred. “I’m obviously Super Spice and Eli is I’m Just Taking a Mental Health Break Spice.” Eli laughs loudly, and Oz grins at him. It’s obvious he’s taken to him. “What about Silas, though?”

“Daddy Spice,” Milo says with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Silas chokes on his beer, and Niall pats him on the back helpfully.

“Silas is definitely not a Daddy,” Oz says. “He’s irredeemably democratic.”

“Why does that sound like a complaint?” Silas bemoans.

“Because the bossiest you get in bed is telling me to turn the light out.” Oz winks at Silas, who shakes his head.

“There’s only room for one bossy person in our family and let’s face it, Oz, that’s you.”

“I’ll second that,” Niall offers and grins when Oz glares at him. “I’ll even third, fourth, fifth and sixth it. In fact I’d infinity it.”

“What about Gideon?” Eli asks, sitting back in his chair, looking relaxed and amused. I knew they’d all get on. He fits like we’ve been saving his place all these years.

“Got to be Perfection Personified Spice,” I say as they groan. “But I somehow know it’s going to be Grumpy Spice.”

“Only if Badly Behaved Spice is taken,” Oz says.

“Don’t mock Princess Sparkles,” Niall warns him, and Milo laughs loudly as I stick two fingers up at them.

Silas shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re Grumpy Spice, Gideon.”

“What’s my name, then?” I ask, startled.

Silas smiles. “That’s going to take a bit of thought. You’re a whole new classification now.” He pauses. “Maybe Happy Spice.” He looks at Eli. “Thank you.”

Eli looks startled. “What for?”

“For giving us Gideon. The new and improved version.”

“I’m not a MacBook,” I say crossly.

Eli smiles at me. “If you were a MacBook, I’d definitely be asking for an instruction manual.”

The others laugh and start talking loudly about something to do with the estate, but I lean closer to Eli. “I think, out of everyone in the world, you are the only person who will never need that.”

“Really?” His lips are close and his eyes are so merry and warm that my heart hurts.

I nod and he smiles. “Maybe I need one because making you happy is something I want to work at,” he whispers.

“You don’t need to work at it,” I say gruffly. “You manage it effortlessly.”

He stares at me and I nod abruptly. Unable to speak for a second, I sit back quietly, eating my steak and drifting while listening to the lively piss-taking banter around the table. A hand comes down on top of mine which is resting on the table.

“You alright?” Eli asks.

I smile at him, turning my palm over and taking the hand he offers and squeezing it. “I can honestly say I’ve never been better.”

He grins but whatever he was going to say dies away as the back gate clicks and, like a villain appearing on a stage set, Frankie appears minus the bang and smoke.

However, he looks like he’s got smoke coming out of his ears at the moment.

Dressed in a black suit even in this hot weather, his hair is slicked back, and he’d look suave if his face weren’t red and his hands weren’t clenched into fists.

I feel Eli’s hand tighten on mine as Frankie walks towards us, and the conversation dies away.

“Good afternoon, Frankie,” Niall says. “I’m so sorry we started the party without you. We’d quite given up on you appearing completely uninvited.”

Frankie shakes his head impatiently. “I haven’t got time to banter with you, Niall. This is serious.”

“What’s happened?” I say slowly, feeling the blood starting to pound in my temples. Eli squeezes my hand, but I can’t return the gesture. All my attention is on my manager and the sick feeling that’s growing in my stomach.

Frankie throws me a look that seems to combine extreme stress with some sort of dark satisfaction. “Seems like your secret’s out, Gideon,” he says loudly, his flair for dramatics showing for a second until he battens it back down again.

My stomach sinks so quickly I feel a surge of nausea. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, taking out his phone from his inside pocket and palming it. “I mean that someone sold some photos of you and nursie here. They’ll hit the papers tomorrow.” He looks at me, and, for an incredible second, I could swear a smile is hovering on his lips. “Game’s up, Gideon.”