Page 66 of Tribute Act
Strange how you can feel terrified and deliriously happy at the same time.
Slowly, carefully, I moved towards him. “I’m sorry for being a coward,” I said. “I should have told you everything that night after the Sea Bell. I should have been braver about it. But me being an idiot doesn’t change the fact that I do love you, Mack. And I really want you to stay.”
“Nathan.”
I was close enough to kiss him now, but in the end, it was him who kissed me, leaning forward to press his lips against mine. And god, I welcomed the warm slide of his tongue into my mouth, the hard length of his body against mine. His scent, warm and familiar. I’d missed that. Missed him. Holding him like this set everything in my world the right way up again.
When we broke apart, I said breathlessly, “So, will you stay now?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
I swallowed, hard. “For how long?”
“How long do you want me here?”
“Forever.” I touched his cheek. “But we can take it at your pace. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Just . . . no secrets, yeah? From now on, you tell me what’s on your mind.”
He smiled. “That goes two ways. I’ll promise if you will.”
“Okay. I promise.”
He sighed then, resting his forehead against mine. Closed his eyes. “Will you take me to bed now?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Let’s go to bed.”
“And no more nights apart?”
“No,” I agreed.
I planned to hold on to him from now on.
All night and every night.
Mack–One Year Later
I’ve never much liked Christmas, but this year is different.
This year, I’m spending Christmas with Nathan. Well, Nathan and Rosie. And Dad and Lorraine.
The family.
I’m not sure that’s how I think of them yet. Maybe I’ll never really think of them that way. Except Nathan.
When I get to the café, Dad’s balancing on a stepladder, putting up the last of the Christmas garlands, Michael Bublé’s playing on the stereo—you can’t beat a bit of Micky Bubbles at Christmas—and Rosie’s behind the counter, wrapping up the sandwich-filling tubs for the day.
“Hi, son.” Dad glances down at me, smiling.
Still not used to that. At some point over the last few months—after our big talk—he began to relax round me a bit more. Stopped looking so goddamned guilty all the time. I smile back, hoping I seem as relaxed to him. I still don’t feel completely comfortable around Dad, but it’s getting easier all the time.
“Where’s Nathan?” I ask.
“Through the back, getting ready for you coming.”
I slip behind the counter, where Rosie’s pottering. She’s pink-cheeked and whistling, a picture of good health. That’s not the whole story, of course. She still has to be careful—always will—with her diet and her meds, but she doesn’t let that stop her doing anything. She’s even started a band with some of her school friends. They’re pretty awful right now, but who knows where they might end up. She’s fierce, my sister.
“Hey you.” I tousle her hair. She’s had it shaved on one side and dyed the ends purple. Dad just about had a fuckin’ canary when he clocked it—I nearly pissed myself laughing when I saw his face.
“Hey you back.” She grins. “So, where are you and Nathan off to then?”