Page 16 of The Meaning Of You

Gazza stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’m not even going there.”

I waved a hand, indicating his current set of clothes. “I rest my case.” Over the white T-shirt, he wore a long billowy tunic-y thing sewn together from scraps of mismatched material, ranging from what looked like grandma’s floral cushion covers to some kind of hazardous cream tulle explosion. Black nail polish and mechanics boots completed the ensemble. It should’ve been a disaster. But instead of looking like the remains of a toddler’s birthday cake failure, it somehow managed to look hip and cool.

Gazza looked down at his outfit and grinned. “Awesome, right?”

Not the word I’d use, but then I wasn’t thirty and hot enough to melt the walls in every nightclub in Auckland. No one would give a shit what Gazza wore. They’d be too busy staring at the gorgeous man himself. A wallflower, he definitely wasn’t.

To avoid the risk of my admittedly pedestrian wardrobe being raised for discussion, I changed the subject. “So, who is he then, this Ben date man?”

Gazza waggled his brows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I waited him out. He would never have mentioned it at all if he didn’t want me to know.

He lasted all of five seconds before a huge grin split his face. “Fine then. If you’re going to force it out of me, I met Ben at the monthly dinner of the diabetic support group I go to. He’s quiet, I suppose, but there’s a presence about him. It was his first time attending, so I went over to introduce myself and we got talking. It was easy, you know, like we’d known each other forever.”

As it turned out, I did know. An image of Nick popped into my mind, but I booted it back where it belonged. The man was going through the worst life crisis imaginable and there I was drooling over him. Well, I wasn’tonlydrooling, I was also talking to him and being supportive and all that shit, but... yeah... there was definitely low-level drooling happening as well. Not something I was proud of, considering his situation.

Gazza’s voice broke through my musings and I realised he was still talking.

“—very close to his family. It’s one of lots of things we have in common. He’s actually back living with his mum temporarily while he saves for a house. Anyway, when the dinner was over, Ben suggested we meet for coffee and talk some more, and I said yes. That’s it. No big deal.”

Except we both knew it was a verybigdeal. In the two years Gazza had worked for me, he’d never once mentioned any kind of dating, let alone a guy he might actually be interested in. I’d thought it was odd, considering we chatted openly about most everything else, and I knew that his large social group spent a lot of their weekends partying. It left me curious about the elephant in the room, but Gazza was entitled to his privacy and it was none of my business.

All of which pointed to the fact that this Ben, whoever he was, had to be something special. I suppressed the urge to grill my apprentice for every detail and simply clapped him on the shoulder. “I hope it goes well for you. You deserve the best.”

Gazza smiled almost shyly and his olive cheeks coloured, both of which took me by surprise. The young man was nothing if not supremely confident most of the time. “Thanks, Madigan. That means a lot coming from you.”

There was something in his expression that if I was better at all that peopling stuff I might’ve been able to decode. But I wasn’t, so I didn’t. Instead, I did what all socially awkwardpeople do; I deflected. “Just don’t wear those pornographic leather trousers of yours on the first serious date. Make ’em work for it, yeah?”

Gazza laughed, which broke the strange spell between us. “This from a man who dates less than I do,” he pointed out, a little unnecessarily if you asked me. “And they’re not leather, they’re leather-look. Besides, they show off all my... assets.” He waggled his brows, and the Gazza I was more familiar with was back in the house.

I shuddered. “I’d rather not hear about men looking at your leather-covered assets. In fact, I want zero conversation about your assets at all, thank you very much. And just so we’re clear, I don’t need to date. Been there, done that, definitely allergic.”

His smile folded and his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t care.”

My eyes flicked to his. “Not everyone is made for a life partner, Gazza.”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “But actually deciding whether that matters is important, not just exiting the game. If it doesn’t matter, that’s great. But, and I might be wrong, I think in your case, it does matter. You just don’t want it to.”

His insight shocked me silent. As much as I wanted to dismiss his appraisal out of hand, I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I thought Gazza was shallow, he wasn’t, but I hadn’t expected him to see through me quite so easily. I’d given him no cause to suspect I wasn’t anything but content with my solitary existence. Hell, I wasn’t sure that I’d even admitted it to myself.

He flushed. “I’m sorry, that was none of my?—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “But as I’m sure you know, there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely.” A classic response that sounded trite even to me.

“You’re right.” Gazza held my gaze, all trace of apology gone. “There isa difference.” The inference being that he still thought me lonely and not alone.

My mouth sprang open to protest but nothing came out.

Like his question had been answered, Gazza continued in a softer tone, “I know I’m way out of bounds here, so feel free to tell me to fuck off, but the only reason I’m saying any of this is because you’re one of the best men I know, and it kills me that you don’t have someone telling you that every day of your life because that’s whatyoudeserve.”

I made a point of looking around the studio. “Have I crossed into some alternate dimension where you’re my therapist now, not my employee?”

Gazza rightfully ignored me. “Don’t fob me off with a joke because I think you need to hear this.”

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