Page 125 of Toy Boy

Jumping off the board and tucking it under my arm, I drag a hand through my wet hair, pushing it back off my face, and I make way up the beach towards the café. Our café. Mine, and Megan’s.

We openedBombora– named after the surfing term; a deep water, offshore reef break – just over six months ago, here on the English south-west coast. It’s surfing heaven down here, and far enough away from Beachcastle Bay for us to begin again. To start a new life, in a new seaside town, but one that won’t judge us. And I’m not saying everyone in Beachcastle Bay did, judge us. Well, me, really. But some did. We wouldn’t have stood a chance if we’d stayed there. So we came here, and just hung out for a while, we needed to get to know each other without the pressure of friends and family – Megan’s friends and family, they were never really mine – adding unnecessary pressure. We needed time and space and that’s when it happened. When we both realised how we felt, when we knew that we wanted to be together, it happened, on that holiday that turned into this brand new life.

Megan putFlowersup for sale, and it was snapped up in less than a month, by Tim Featherstone, who’d finally decided to retire from the police force and seek a quieter, less stressful existence. It seemed that, ever since the death of Scott Warren, Beachcastle Bay was fast learning the ‘live your life before you lose it’ lesson.

With the money from the sale of bothFlowersand Megan’s cottage, and the money my mom had left me in her will, we bought a slightly run-down beach bar in the centre of a surfing hotspot, ploughed more cash into turning it into a surf bar, café and grill, and nowBomborais one of the most popular hang-outs on this stretch of coastline. People come from far and wide to drink our beer and eat our food, and I swear, there are days when I feel like I’m living in some kind of dream, I’m so fucking happy.

Leaning my board down against the side of the café wall, I head inside, where Megan greets me with a smile and a kiss and I look at her, and I feel a million emotions collide. She’s the angel that saved me. Without her, I’m not sure what path I would have taken. I needed her, so meeting her the way I did, I’m calling it fate rather than the mistake I’d once thought it was. I’d rather Scott’s fate had turned out to be something less tragic than it ended up being, but sometimes you can’t have a totally happy ending. You take what you can and you don’t dwell on the bad stuff.

“You hungry? I’m making pancakes, bacon and eggs. They’re proving to be popular with the regulars, and I’ve just made some fresh, so there’s plenty.”

“I’m starving!”

I look around the café, which, once the sun goes down, turns into a chilled-out, cool-as-hell bar that faces out over the beach, I mean, this is my fucking dream, right here. This business, and this beautiful woman, I got so fucking lucky.

“Go sit down. I’ll fetch you a plate. Oh, and Jerome was in earlier, asking if you wanted to help him with the boat trips this afternoon. There’s been a huge influx of tourists this week, and he’s run off his feet with bookings. Said he could do with another pair of hands, and you being a marine biologist and everything…”

She leaves that sentence hanging, and I smile at her. “Sure, I’ll help him. When’s he need me?”

“He said if you could be at the harbour by half past eleven he’ll throw in lunch. Want some coffee?”

I nod and go grab a table on the decked terrace out front, where the majority of the customers are sitting – mostly fellow surfers this early on. Regulars who’ve become friends. Later on the people who come here are a mixed bag of more surfers, students, and tourists. It’s a great vibe, exactly the kind of place I’d want to hang out if I was a visitor to this town. But this town is my home now, I’m not just passing through. I’m settled. I’m putting down roots. Making a life for myself, with a woman I love…

Megan

Josh had put up a fight, when I told him I was moving away. Quite a long way away, but this place, this town, this new bar and café, it’s perfect. For us. Me, and Xander. And I’m not saying leaving Beachcastle Bay was easy, it wasn’t. It was hard, walking away from a life I’d loved; people I loved. Love. They’re my family. All of them, were like family to me. But Xander and I, we had to walk away. We had to wipe the slate clean and start again, and I have no regrets about that. Now. I miss Josh and Natalie, I miss Tim and Tania, everyone atFlowers, but they’re all still there. Graham, Iona and Hanna are still there, Tim was never going to change that, and I’m so happy that he’s the new owner. My little harbour-side café is in safe, new hands, allowing me to concentrate onBombora.

Sliding two pancakes onto a plate, I add a fried egg, sunny-side up, and three rashers of bacon, and I take it outside, grabbing a mug of coffee on the way.

“There you go. Breakfast. Made entirely by me.”

I sit down opposite Xander, and he grins as he shovels a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “James is teaching you good, huh?”

“James is just helping me hone skills I already had. Just because I didn’t cook all that much atFlowersdoesn’t mean I couldn’t cook at all. You remember my lamb curry, right? The first meal I ever cooked for you?”

“I remember. And I remember every time you’ve cooked it for me since, it’s now one of my favourite things to eat.”

I smile at him and lean forward to wipe pancake crumbs from his chin before kissing him, slowly, and he tastes of salt and maple syrup, and with every movement of his lips against mine I love him more and more.

“I just didn’t cook all that much before because I never felt like it, when there was just me.”

He looks into my eyes, and I swear my knees weaken, they’ve been doing that a lot over this past year. He’s a walking, talking cliché, my beautiful, handsome toy boy. “But there’s not just you anymore,” he whispers, and I think I’ll wait a second before I stand up.

“No. And I’m so happy about that.”

“Ditto.” He drops a kiss on my nose and I laugh, I swear, this man, he makes me feel like a teenager again. He’s teaching me that being carefree, it’s not a crime. There’s no age limit, no time in life when you have to stop feeling that way, there’s no law against feeling ridiculously happy. And I am, ridiculously happy.

“I should get back to work. Some more customers have just sat down, I need to take their order.”

Xander glances over at the newly-arrived group. “It’s only Tate, Gavin, Jillian and Ciara. They always have the breakfast sharing plate and a bowl of mixed fruit. Don’t you?” Xander shouts over at their table. “You guys want the usual?”

Tate stands up, his hair damp from his morning surf, his wetsuit hanging low around his waist. “And four banana smoothies. You two coming to Gavin’s party Friday night?”

“After this place has closed, yeah. We’ll be there.”

“Great! Bring beer.”

Xander looks at me, shrugs and arches an eyebrow. “We have regulars. They have usuals.”

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