“Matthew and Mark?” Luc asked curiously.
Wade was a burst of smiling energy as he explained all about Noah’s gay penguin friends and what an incredible job Noah had, and how much Wade had learned about their native birds in the last few weeks.
All day Noah had hoped for that smile to settle on him, and now that it did, it felt bittersweet.
“Matthew and Mark are . . . happy in love,” Noah said finally.
They all looked down at their drinks.
Noah really ought to leave.
He just . . . couldn’t.
Wade parked outside the bach and killed the engine. The last of the sunlight had faded and blueish evening layered them in shadows, the white painted line bright on the asphalt of the street; for a minute, he was back in the pub as Wade had opened his wallet to pay. There, in the back pocket behind a twenty, a folded napkin, bright white, a tiny smudge of fineliner on the edge.
“Where are you, Noah?” Wade sounded amused.
Noah pulled back from that moment of heightened hope. “H-how was breakfast with your mum?”
Wade laughed hollowly. “She basically agreed to give me the money if I propose to Grace.”
Grace. There was a name Noah had forgotten.
Because as soon as Wade told me she was just a friend, I hadn’t needed anything else to settle my . . . jealousy.
She’d faded from his thoughts.
“What will you do?”
“Well nothing will ever happen romantically with Grace.”
Was it too much to hope the same of Luc?
As if sensing Noah’s thoughts, Wade shifted. “I hope tonight wasn’t too awkward?”
“No.” Noah sank back in his seat. “Well. A bit.”
A soft laugh. “Luc and I . . .”
“Hey, you have a past. I do too.”
“Tell me about your exes?”
Noah laughed. “That’s only fair.”
Wade waited, watched.
“My ex and I also parted ways not long ago.”
“What happened?”
“We liked each other.”
“Yes.”
“That’s it. He . . . he wanted more than like. So we agreed it was better that he move on.”
Vinyl creaked. “Noah. I hope you weren’t okay with just being liked.”
Noah’s pulse soared and he fumbled with the tricky belt. “Not everyone finds their true mate, Wade.”
Large hands gripped the steering wheel.
“It’s okay. Life is messy. The easiest way to navigate it is to be sensible about these things.” I’ll forgive you if you choose Luc. “Friendship is much better anyway.”
“Friendship is invaluable, but . . .” Wade’s darkened profile concentrated on the road. “There’s a place for passion.”
He willed Wade to turn towards him, to cup his face, to beg Noah to kiss him. To drag him into the cottage, his bedroom, and take care of him . . .
Wade sighed and drummed his thumbs. “You would have been right, Noah. To make us wait. To give it more time. I really am sorry for rushing things.” He looked over. “I think we should . . .”
This was it. It was happening already. Wade was letting him go.
The seatbelt dragged slowly over his aching heart. “Yes. Of course.” He opened the door. “I should, ah—”
Wade clasped his arm. “Please tell me we can still hang out?”
“As friends,” Noah said, stating Wade’s implicit wish.
Wade’s soft touch drifted off him. “As friends.”
Noah stared at those dark, imploring eyes. He forced his voice not to squeak. “Of course.”
Sneaking into the cottage unnoticed, having the freedom to think and to mope in misery, proved a vain hope. The minute he stepped inside, he was collared by Zach and urged to the dining table.
“Brandon showed me how to cook bolognaise. I’ll get you a plate.”
Noah pulled himself together, smiled and joined them.
He sat in the same place he had when he’d cooked for Wade, his focus drifting from Brandon and Zach to the hazy memory of that evening. Wade had been uncertain the whole time; he’d been trying to figure out how to tell him then.
Heat washed up Noah’s face. How could he not have seen it?
“It sounds ah-maz-ing,” Zach said, all loose limbs and Brandon-centric smiles. “Don’tcha think, Noah?”
“Hmm?” He looked questioningly between his brother and Brandon.
Brandon lifted a napkin to his lips. He was out of his suit, which took some getting used to. Jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that his brother kept wrinkling. “The opening ball of the new Austen House.”
Noah ahhhed. “Josh and West’s Camp Austen.”
“You know the owners?”
“I flatted with Josh, when we were both in England.”
If he’d stayed more in touch, would he have known about West’s—what, cousin? Cousin Luc, fellow inhabitor of the closet . . .
“Then you have to come.”
“Sorry, come?”
Zach laughed, rolling his eyes. “To the ball. We’ll all be dressed in eighteenth century clothes and we get to eat and dance and everything.”
“Sounds like quite an experience.” One he’d have been enthused about any other day.
“It’s the biggest event in Port Ratapu this year. Everyone will be there.”
