Page 84 of Something Borrowed

I stop dead, the thought slamming into me like a truck.Mine.

When is Stan going to realise that he’s mine? I inhale a shaky breath and fall into a chair.

I love him. The realisation is as smooth as taking my next breath, but unfortunately, it’s not as easy. One second, I didn’t know, and the next, everything has changed—my whole world has altered on its axis.

How can I not love him? He’s the most extraordinary man I’ve ever met. He’s funny, clever, brave, determined, and a complete smart-arse whose smile cheers me up when nothing else works. And where before I’d have listed these attributes as belonging to my friend, now I see them with the eyes of a lover who also knows what it feels like to strain together under the sheets, fighting to get closer, panting and groaning.

“Is that okay, Raff?” Stan asks. His dark hair is spilling over his forehead, and I can see the freckles dotting his high cheekbones and the slight bump in his nose where he broke it as a teenager. And I want to grab him and kiss him and then cry because he’s not mine. I saw to that when I told him to date the fuckwit currently holding his hand like he’s going to escape at any second. “Raff?”

“Raff?”Stan’s voice interrupts my revelation. “Can you see the sea?”

His face is so close and clear in the bright light that it makes my eyes hot. “Yes.” I clear my throat. “It’s so blue, babe. And the sunlight is catching on it so that it glitters.”

He sits back in his seat, smiling. “I like that for the two of them.”

He’s taken off his denim jacket and is wearing his old khaki chinos and a white T-shirt that shows off his tight biceps. The breeze from the open window ruffles his curls, and his olive skin glows in the sunlight. He looks rumpled and so dear to me that I swallow hard.

The taxi slows, interrupting my moment, and I peer out. “We’re here.”

“Have you been here before?”

“Once for a wedding a few years ago. The owners are a gay couple, and the hotel specialises in LGBT ceremonies. You remember Margot from Confetti Hitched?”

“I do.”

“Well, she comes more often. It’s a lovely place. Very special.”

The car crunches along gravel and pulls to a stop. I climb out, aware of Stan doing the same. For a moment, I simply stand and feel the sun warm on my face. The sense of peace this setting inspired the last time I was here steals over me again. All I can hear is the breeze whispering through the plane trees and the distant roar of the surf.

Stan walks over to me, his stick tapping. “What’s it like?” he asks.

“It’s a long white building with purple shutters and window baskets full of bright flowers. There’s a terrace that runs the width of the building at the back where you can sit and watch the sun come down over the bay. The grounds run down to a private beach where they’ll hold the commitment ceremony.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It is. And the hotel is very accessible and renowned for making things easier for people with restricted sight.”

“And will they forego our bill?”

I snort. “Unfortunately, not, but they have painted more yellow lines on things than Hackney Council Highways Department.” He laughs. “No, everything is geared up for you.One of the owners’ sons is blind, so they know what they’re doing. All the outings have been designed with that in mind. That’s why Leo picked the place.”

He smiles, lifting his face to the sun. “He’s a good friend.”

The driver sets the last of the luggage on the gravel, and I smile at the porter, who comes bustling out with a baggage cart and starts loading our suitcase and bags onto it. “Well, everything seems as organised as ever.” I tap Stan’s arm, resisting the impulse to stroke his warm skin. “Let’s go and get checked in and see if any problems crop up.”

“And then a walk?”

“I’m sure it’s not attractive to be so energetic.” He snorts. “Don’t you want to just sit at the bar with a big drink, a plate of food, and an elastic waistband on your trousers?” I ask hopefully.

“Nope, and neither do you, even though you paint such abeautifulpicture.”

I huff. “I suppose I will go along with you, thereby conforming to our friendship rules of the last twenty years.”

“Can I help it if you just want to please me?”

I pinch his arm, and we make our way up the stone steps. They’re in the shade, and the smell of lavender from the big terracotta pots on each step is heady. I see Stan take an appreciative sniff, and his shoulders relax a little.

The foyer is cool and quiet. A couple of guests are browsing a wall of bookcases full of brightly coloured books, and a receptionist stands talking quietly on the phone. We stop at the entrance.

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