Page 80 of The Way Home

He wasn’tthatJamie… the one Caleb had apparently worshipped. He wasthisJamie.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to look at Caleb. He was smiling straight ahead, gaze dancing around the street, trying to decipher where Jamie was leading them. Jamie smiled at his profile, struck again by how bloody handsome he was. The lights from the street emphasized the cut of his jaw, and the green in his sweater brought out the different shades of brown in his eyes.

Caleb must have felt his gaze because he turned, lips twitching with amusement. When their eyes met, something tugged at Jamie’s chest.

He wanted toearnCaleb’s affection. Not simply assume it.

After another few blocks, Jamie stopped in front of a black paneled wooden door. Not realizing they’d arrived, Caleb kept walking.

“Caleb!” Jamie reached out and tugged him back.

“What?” Caleb turned, confused. “Wait. This is where we’re going?” He eyed the door, then Jamie. “Are you going to murder me in there?”

“What? No,” Jamie huffed. “We are going to eat.”

“Is this even a restaurant?”

“Yes. It’s a Nigerian fusion restaurant.”

Caleb’s eyes widened, darting between Jamie and the door. His face cycled through a series of emotions—first, the realization that thiswasindeed a restaurant, switching rapidly to pure, unfiltered amusement.

Jamie frowned. “What is it?”

A booming laugh erupted from Caleb, and he doubled over. When he finally stood straight, his eyes were crinkled at the corners.“Oh shit, you’re not gonna make it. Do you have any idea how spicy the food in there is?”

Jamie deadpanned. “Caleb—” With an eye roll, he tugged him towards the door. “Comeon.”

“Oh, you’ll die,” Caleb said with unbridled joy. “The spices in that building willliterallykill you.”

“Would you hush? We have a reservation.”

“This is the best surprise ever. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Jamie ignored the git, opened the door, and gave Caleb a gentle push by the shoulders.

After less than thirty minutes in the restaurant, however, Jamie realized that Caleb was right. But, since he was British and stubborn anddeterminedto carry on with tonight’s date, Jamie was holding back every tear in his tear ducts, cursing his pathetically sensitive palate. And his mother, for never introducing him to spicy food. And all his ancestors, for good measure.

“How you doing over there?” Caleb snorted through a mouthful of jollof rice.

The man hadn’t even flinched, and Jamie was pretty sure just the smells in this place were making his own neck sweat.

“Great. Delicious,” Jamie said as he popped a piece of vegan suya into his mouth. Hewantedto enjoy spicy food. He knew it would be good, if he could taste any of it. But his British taste buds were on fire, and his eyes felt like they were going to melt out of his head.

Even with Caleb telling the server to take it easy on the spice—which they had exchanged a very pointed glance about—Jamie was still dying.

Literallydying.

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Caleb said. “Any ideas about what you wanna do?”

“Oh.” Jamie gulped down some water, which did absolutely nothing. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe we could go see my family?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.” His expression fell slightly, and Jamie could tell he was forcing his voice to sound casual. “I also don’t have to come, if you want it to just be family.”

“What? Caleb, of course I want you to come.” He reached across the table and took Caleb’s hand in his. “In fact, my mum will protest if you’re not there.”

Pippa had been dead on; his mum was quite obsessed with Caleb. A twitch of Caleb’s lips gave away his relief as he dug back into his plate of beef and rice.

“This was super nice of you, J,” Caleb said after he chewed and swallowed, glancing around the restaurant at the atmosphere. The space was brilliant on the inside, even better than the website. More black-panelled wood and loads of African art on the walls. “My mom would’ve loved this place.”