Page 48 of Forever Not Yours

“Twenty-two Tufton Street,” the barman said. “You’re on speaker, in case you didn’t realise.”

I was a grown-up, an adult. I earned a ridiculous amount of money per year, enough to pay more to the taxman than the average person earned. I sat upstraighter.

“Jake. I’m so sorry. I’m in a bar in Tufton Street.” There.

“I’m on my way,” he said.

I hated myself. So, so much.

Ifound him exactly where I’d dreaded he’d be, because I knew that bar in Tufton Street. Had been there myself once or twice. Right in the hustle of Westminster, supposedly catering to theposh locals but instead attracting the more hardcore side of the community, it had been mentioned in various scandals in the past, mostly concerning married politicians with habits that had not been socially acceptable back then. It had a well-attended darkroom and hosted heavy leather nights. Been there, done that.

It was a couple of blocks down from Bastien’s office, a good few miles from my Hampsted clinic, and the Tube was not an option. The Uber was pretty efficient, though, despite me fidgeting in the back the entire way.

What the hell now, Bastien?

That app of his had been going off solidly for the past three hours, and we’d been here before. Bastien was responsible…until he got stressed out and wasn’t. I’d even left messages for Juliet, hoping she’d get hold of him, but at least he’d called.

I slammed the door to the Uber shut and stepped into the bar. I didn’t know the place well, but I recognised the smell of it. Sex and beer, leather, disinfectant. It could be a heady combination when the urge came on, but right now, it filled me with terror, and totally rationally so, because here was my man, sat at the barbeing coddled by some leather daddy in a pair of biker boots that had seen better days, a bottle of lube on a keyring dangling from his belt.

“Bastien,” I said firmly, because there were rules here. Honor amongst men. I hoped. Oh, fuck it.

“Barry,” leather daddy said, reaching out his hand to me with a warm smile. “Seems your man here is perking up a bit. Was dangling well low earlier, didn’t look too good.”

“Thank you,” I said, staring at the back of Bastien’s head. “Better take him home then. Get some food in for him.”

“Tried to get him to chow down a packet of crisps. Wasn’t too keen on the idea.”

I smiled politely. “He’s funny about snack foods.” He wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to offend leather daddy’s kind gesture, not when I was wearing scrubs in a kink bar like a twat. “Do I owe you guys anything?”

“Happy to help.” The bartender was clearly a decent guy.

“My sister is a diabetic. Not something you mess around with,” Barry droned on. I could almost hear Bastien’s words.I don’t need another lecture. I wasguilty as hell of those, and this guy? Had Bastien been firing at 100%, he might have shared some words of wisdom here. Luckily, he kept his mouth shut as I shook this Barry’s hand and once again nodded to the bartender in gratitude before dragging Bastien by the arm, out into the warm London air that was as oppressive as the thoughts in my head.

Reaching into his pocket, he was suddenly wearing shades. Like a plonker.

“Where’s your car?” I asked.

“Multistorey.” Good. Words. He was using them.

“All right if I drive?”

“Still have you on the insurance.”

He did. I remembered. Something he’d always done. Always offered it up like we had shared custody of his goddamn BMW.

We walked. Random rays of sunshine fell on my face. At least he was steady on his feet, a faint blush on his cheeks, not so pale anymore under those shades. Sometimes I would look at him and it would be like I was seeing him for the very first time. The streaks of gold in his pale blonde hair. Those cheekbones, almost a little too high up on his cheeks. Broad shoulders,and those suits he wore for work. Fine tailoring that hugged his narrow hips. Beauty like frail porcelain, yet underneath the shell, he had strength in spades.

He called himself stupid and weak when he was anything but. He’d excelled at uni and landed his first job before he’d even graduated. And even though it may have looked like I was the one who always looked after him and cleaned up his many messes, I wouldn’t have been here if it hadn’t been for him. Failure had not been an option as long as Bastien had been by my side. He’d pushed, made me revise, taken me to the places I needed to go in that little Fiat he’d driven back then. He still did. Drove me places. Put me on his insurance. Kept me sane in a world where I often felt anything but.

Bastien. My beautiful man.

He still looked pretty awful, drained and dishevelled, and that bar? I had questions. So many goddamn questions.

Car found and Bastien strapped in, I took the driver’s seat with no protests from my silent passenger, who stared out the window like a grumpy teen.

“Did you need anything from the office? And your phone is ringing, again.”

He shrugged. Okay. We were like that then.

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