Page 64 of Topped

“You look very deep in thought,” Alfie said, and I jumped as I realised I’d been staring off into space.

“Not really. Just thinking about how glad I am that I said yes to Darcy when he asked me to move back.”

Alfie smiled fondly, his eyes drifting over to Jonathan. “Yeah, me too. It’s been stressful but I don’t think I’d change much. Maybe a few things… maybe get my head out of my arse a bit sooner.”

“It’s all a learning experience,” I said. “And we all got there in the end.”

I turned slightly, craning my head to look into the sitting room where Darcy and Rupert were deep in conversation about clothing. Alfie must have followed my gaze because he added, “They look like they’re getting on well.”

“Yeah, I think they are. I might have to go and rescue Rupert in a minute, though, before Darcy talks his ear off. But considering how reluctant Darcy was for us to get involved, he seems very happy to pick Rupert’s brain.”

Alfie hummed noncommittally. “Mmm, well, Darcy’s not that bad. He’s good at coming to his senses, and I think he realised how much you like each other.”

“You said something, didn’t you?”

“Me? Oh, no.” I could hear him smiling but when I turned to look at him, he pretended to zip his mouth closed.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said, nudging him gently. “By the way, I had a thought… we should totally get a stand at the Christmas market or light switch on next year. I know we’ll be closed, but I bet Darcy and Owen can whip us up a load of stock before they bugger off. And I think we should look at tubs too, allow the locals to stock up before we shut for the winter. Maybe do a pre-order system for collection at the end of October.”

“I think those could work,” Alfie said, and I saw his mind already whirring as it started to run the numbers and how we might do certain things.

“You don’t have to figure it out now,” I said. “They were just thoughts.”

“Definitely not now, whatever it is,” Jonathan said, appearing on Alfie’s other side with a fond smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek and leaving a tiny lipstick mark behind. “Dinner’s nearly ready, if you don’t mind grabbing everyone. Milo, how long does this pudding need to go in for? And at what temperature? Can I put it in once I take the lasagne out?”

“Yeah, that should be fine. Maybe turn it down a bit so we don’t have to rush? I think it’ll take about half an hour or forty minutes.” I wasn’t sure if that was right or not, but I could keep an eye on it while we ate, and if it started to look too crispy I’d just turn the oven off. That was generally how I did things. Precise timings and temperatures had never been my thing.

Alfie retrieved Rupert and Darcy, and we all squished around the kitchen table, with Rupert tucked in between me and Jonathan. Which was a good move because they were both very stylish, so they had that to talk about, and they also liked cool, weird shit, plus Jonathan had shown an interest in Lizzie. And if all else failed, I’d steer the conversation towards Theo and Laurie’s wedding, which Rupert had helped Alfie pick a suit for.

I didn’t need to worry though, because they fell into easy conversation without any prompting, and all I could do was marvel at how charismatic, gorgeous, and awesome my boyfriend was.

“How’re you doing?” I asked when Jonathan got up to check on the pudding, putting my hand on Rupert’s thigh under the table.

“Really good,” he said quietly. “Everyone is so nice. I don’t know why I was so nervous.”

“Happens to all of us. I’m nervous about dinner with Norman and Sidney next week,” I said with a wry chuckle. We’d finally managed to arrange something after many pointed nudges from Norman, and I was bricking it.

“Honestly, me too and I work with Norman! Oh, he has some crochet supplies for you. He got them off someone in his book club.”

“Score! I can’t wait to make Lizzie a hat.”

“You’re doing what?” Alfie asked. “Did you say you’re making a snake a hat?”

“Yeah, obviously. She needs a proper bonnet, Alfie, come on. It’s polite!”

“I cannot wait to see this,” Darcy said with a grin, sipping his glass of wine. “Please, please, send me pictures. I need to see what you come up with.”

“I thought you didn’t like snakes?” I asked.

“I am not their biggest fan, sorry,”—he shot an apologetic look at Rupert—“but a snake in a bonnet is different. Especially if it’s one you’ve made.”

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“Oh no, I’m a hundred percent sure you can, if only through sheer stubbornness.”

“I want to see too,” Owen said. “Mostly because I do like snakes.”

“Do you want to see pictures now? I have some new ones on my phone from last weekend when I started putting up Christmas decorations. She really likes the tree,” Rupert said, his hand lingering over his trouser pocket.