Page 22 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Dennis had nearly shaken his arm off during introductions. The rest of the gang—Brian and his girlfriend Deb, Bev and her boyfriend Ciaran—had been friendly, curious, and, in Brian and Bev’s case, absolute menaces with a running commentary on Taylor’s entire childhood.

Taylor, it turned out, was the baby of the family. And from the way they all doted on him—and took the piss in equal measure—it was clear he’d never quite lived that title down.

Hey, look at me, using colloquial Britspeak.

David took another forkful of roast beef and closed his eyes in brief reverence. Sweet Jesus , the food was good. He was halfway through mentally composing a love letter to Valerie’s gravy when a snicker broke his concentration.

He cracked an eye open. Bev was watching him with a grin that could only mean trouble.

“Mum,” she called, turning toward Valerie with faux innocence, “I think you’ve got a fan.”

David swallowed and gave a sheepish smile. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

Valerie blushed the way people only do when the compliment was genuine. “I’m glad you like it, David. Tell me, has Taylor cooked for you yet?”

David felt the tension beside him the second she asked. Taylor went still.

Like statue -still.

“Taylor’s a wonderful cook,” Valerie added, clearly delighted.

“ Muuuuum ,” Taylor groaned, going bright red.

Dennis chuckled. “The signs were there early. Every Sunday, the blokes would be in the lounge watching footie, and Taylor would be in the kitchen with the women, learning how to make pastry.”

“Yeah, that should’ve told us right then,” Brian said, grinning. “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty.”

Taylor threw him a look that promised vengeance.

David leaned back and soaked it all in: the laughter, the teasing, the gentle familiarity of it all. He could feel himself falling—maybe not for the first time, but deeper now—for the young man who sat beside him, rolling his eyes and biting back a smile.

He’d never grown up with this kind of scene.

Not much of a surprise, given that it had been just him and his mom.

There’d been love, sure, but not the kind of love that was there, that came with roast beef and a chorus of sibling mockery.

Watching Taylor surrounded by it, David felt something like hope lodge itself under his ribs.

Eventually, he reached the point of no return, food-wise. He patted his stomach with a groan and leaned back, basking in the full-bellied glow of too much good food.

“That,” he declared, “was glorious .”

Valerie beamed. “Well, we’ve still got dessert.” A ripple of exaggerated groans echoed around the table. “And coffee, for those who want it.”

David did a quick internal scan. One final course might be pushing things. Then again…

“What’s for dessert?”

“Taylor’s favorite,” Valerie said, her eyes twinkling. “Lemon cheesecake.”

David made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a prayer. Bev raised an eyebrow and smirked. Apparently, his face had betrayed him.

“Maybe just a tiny bit?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorted,” Valerie said. “Taylor?”

Taylor hesitated long enough to pretend he had a choice. “Yeah, okay. Small slice.”

David leaned in and said under his breath, “You’re only saying that to be polite, right?”

“Obviously,” Taylor deadpanned. “It’s the respectful thing to do.”

They both cracked up.

Valerie shook her head fondly as she stood. “You boys are as bad as each other. You can take your cheesecake in the lounge.”

David stood up out of instinct, only for Valerie to wave him back down.

“No need for ceremony here. Just make yourself at home.”

Bev and Brian followed her out, carrying dishes. Dennis stood, pulled out a cigar, and wandered toward the French doors. He turned, the cigar held out in offering.

“Smoke, David?”

David shook his head. “Thanks, but no. Never picked up the habit.”

Dennis nodded and stepped into the garden. A moment later, the sweet, smoky scent drifted inside.

Taylor leaned over and murmured, “Good. I like kissing you too much for that.”

The words hit David in the soft part of his chest. No fuss, no drama, just a quiet truth that warmed him more than anything on the plate had.

“Taylor?” Brian’s voice came from the kitchen. “Your boyfriend may be a guest, but you, sunshine, are not . Get your arse in here and help.”

“Boyfriend?” Taylor whispered. “I’m going to kill him.”

David elbowed him. “Wait until after you’ve done your duty.”

Taylor pouted. “I thought you had my back.”

“I do,” David said solemnly. “From a distance. With cheesecake. And don’t worry, your dad doesn’t bite, I’m sure of that.”

Taylor got up and trudged toward the kitchen with the grace of a martyr. “It’s not Dad I’m worried about,” he muttered.

David snorted quietly. He had no idea what Taylor thought would happen in his absence.

Valerie and Dennis were relaxed and lovely, the kind of parents who genuinely liked their adult children.

Brian and Bev were good-humoured and sharp, clearly enjoying each other’s company.

Ciaran and Deb were quieter, more reserved, but radiated calm and comfort in their partner’s orbit.

David could see the whole shape of the family now, the threads between them, the easy affection, the lived-in rhythms. Taylor had told him bits and pieces about each of them but seeing them all together like this filled in the blanks.

It was one thing to hear about someone’s family—it was another to be at their table, laughing over roast beef and cheesecake.

As the sounds of clinking dishes and Taylor’s bright laugh floated in from the kitchen, David wandered through the bi-fold doors into the lounge.

A large bay window framed the garden outside, lush, green, and perfectly tended.

The kind of place where someone might sit in the shade with a book and lose a whole afternoon.

He stood quietly, his hands in his pockets, and let it all settle in. The house. The people. The surprising, undeniable sense of belonging that was starting to take root in his bones.

Another good place. Another bit of peace.

And if he believed in fairy tales and Happily Ever Afters?

A reason to stay.