Page 48 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)

“You okay after last night?” he asks immediately. My happiness is always top of his list, and he will move heaven and earth to stop me from ever being sad. I smile because his efforts often backfire on him but just make me love him more.

I nod. “I’m fine, and I got a lie in.” I shrug, then whisper, “Just happy, I suppose. Love you, Golden Voiced Man.”

“Love you more,” he says deeply, and in his eyes is everything that we are to each other. Warmth and home and safety and laughter. Lots and lots of lovely laughter.

GIDEON

Giving me Gus and taking Hetty with the stated intention of making breakfast and combing her hair with a garden rake, Eli wanders back up the garden.

I watch him go, enjoying the sight of his arse in those shorts and his wide shoulders and messy hair.

He can say what he likes, but our daughter has inherited his hair and there’s no getting around it.

My phone rings and I reach into my pocket, smiling as I see the number for Russ, my old driver.

“You on the way?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I’m at the airport now, Gid. I’m ready to leave Ireland for a few days and show you how to fish properly.”

“You talk big, old man,” I say loftily, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you and Eli and the babies,” he says, suddenly serious. “Makes me so happy to see you like this now.”

“Alright, Maeve Binchy.” I laugh at his curse. “I’m looking forward to seeing you too,” I say softly. “We’ll pick you up from the airport as normal.”

“You certainly will. You drove me round the bend for years. It’s time you did it in a car.”

“It’ll be infinitely more pleasurable than your crap driving. I’m quite positive that I’m a much better driver than you.”

I grin at the sound of his laughter and we exchange goodbyes.

I’m looking forward to the weekend. He comes every couple of months, sometimes with his wife and sometimes on his own, but I’m always happy to see him, as well as Constance when she and her new husband visit us.

Both Russ and Constance adore Eli. With all of them and Jacinta and Alex visiting often, our spare rooms are always full.

I look at Fowey sparkling in the sun. The air is full of the scent of brine and the calls of the gulls overhead, and my son babbles in his soft baby language enlivened by the usual interjections of “up” and “no.” It sometimes amazes me that I’ve been given all of these riches in life.

A family who I love madly and an actual home.

I’d bought so many properties over the years, and none of them ever had this air of permanency and solidity.

Come to think of it, I lacked those attributes as well.

Now, I don’t. I feel as rooted here with Eli and the babies as the oak tree from which Hetty’s swing sways in the breeze.

As soon as I saw this house I knew it was for us.

I had to use a lot of words to get Eli to agree, but I was right.

This was our home and it was waiting for us.

I always credit it fancifully with helping us too.

We went through a slightly rough patch after I came out.

It was like Eli lost sight of the fact that I loved him and in return I froze, too scared of losing him to address the problem.

Looking around this house had precipitated the worst fight we’ve ever had, but it was also the backdrop for us understanding each other and forging the blueprint we’ve lived by ever since.

At first we intended to knock it down and build a modern house with every amenity, but Eli insisted on living in it for a bit and the old place wove its spell.

It was built in the Victorian era and, as such, it’s full of period features like the bay windows with their stunning views of the river, the wooden floors, and the high ceilings.

All it seemed to be waiting for was to be filled with laughter and loud voices.

Well, it definitely got that, and with some love and care and a fuckton of money, it’s now a warm, sunny space full of life.

The rooms flow from one to another, enlivened by shelves of books, colourful rugs, and comfy furniture.

Our friends visit and sit on the patio outside or around the huge table in the white oak kitchen.

The children’s rooms are bright and filled with toys and books, and Hetty’s friends from school visit and run about the house filling the air with shouts and laughter.

Then at night our bedroom is our haven, filled with moonlight and silence, the big bed with its soft covers sheltering us as we make love and talk over the day, wrapped around each other like bindweed.

It seems to me that I’ve been very lucky in my life because I haven’t only gained a family with Eli, I’ve found my original one again.

I’m not talking about my parents here, even though Eli still persists in inviting them to stay.

They’ll come for a few days and during that time we’ll orbit each other, unsure of anything apart from a desire to please Eli.

Then the time will be up and with sighs of relief we’ll retreat to our own corners of the world again.

No, my real family, besides Eli and the children, is my brother and our friends.

I see Milo all the time. We meet for lunch or dinner and talk on the phone every day.

I’ve also grown closer to Niall and Silas, conversely finding the friendship I’d always wanted with them when I’d stopped expecting it.

Eli and Oz have also formed an unholy sort of bond.

They’re always on the phone to each other, usually accompanied by a lot of laughter.

Sometimes I look back on that illness so long ago as being my saviour. Through it, I gained Eli and my babies and the men I call my family. I smile. Thank God for pneumonia and dissolute living. Then I make a mental note to never pass that bit of advice on to my children.

I smile and shake my head, leaning down to tie up the dinghy properly while Gus shouts “no” loudly at a passing boat. I pet Tig, who’s still doing his impression of a canine trampoline, and Eli appears in the kitchen door and waves to me, shouting about breakfast.

“Come on , Daddy,” Hetty shouts, and Eli grins.

“Yes, come on, Daddy,” he says deeply, the smile reflected in his eyes.

I shake my head at the twat I chose for a life partner and walk towards him like I’ll do for the rest of my life. It’s like he’s my North Star and I follow him, not because he’ll guide me home from my travels, but because quite simply he is my home.

We could be in the worst place and I’d still settle down happily if he and the children were with me.

I don’t need anything more than him and this family we’ve built together.

The years stretch ahead of me, and if they’re as filled with life and laughter as the ones gone by, I know I’ll die a very happy old man.

And as long as it’s with him by my side, I really don’t need anything else.

For a man who once grasped for every possession my money could buy, it’s a humbling realisation and a blessing I’ll never be sure I deserve, but one I know I’ll work for and protect for the rest of my life.