Page 27 of The Missing Ingredient

“Before Raine, I didn’t have any—you know—serious thoughts about anyone else.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I mean, I dated a couple of women at college, but nothing serious, and I never once contemplated being with a bloke. Not that I think it’s wrong or anything, it was just never something I’d—you know—thought about, let alone something I’d want to try. Christ, the male body just isn’t aesthetically pleasing like a woman’s. Well, apart from yours in those bloody swimmers, which also confused the hell out of me. Shit, this is not coming out right—”

“For fuck’s sake, Tom,” said Marcus, half laughing. “Shut up a minute, will you?”

“Honestly, Marcus,” said Tom, pushing a hand through his hair again and staring at the carpet. “I’m sure that if I ever acted on any of these urges, I’d be as repulsed as you. So can you just let me have the chance to get out there and start seeing women again? See if I can fix this thing inside me? No, I don’t want you to stop seeing the girls, but if we could perhaps do less together as a family, see a little less of each other, things might….”

For a fleeting moment, Marcus wondered if he should have taken the opportunity to kiss Tom. But something in his friend’s heartfelt plea begged for understanding. And the last thing Marcus wanted to do was scare Tom away completely, to lose his friendship. Because so far, at least, he had been the perfect friend.

“Okay, stop now, Tom. You’ve made your point. And you should know by now that I’d do anything to see you happy again. So let me talk to Moira. I’ll tell her it’s my idea, tell her it’s to do with workloads. I’m sure we can move the schedule around so we’re less dependent on each other. Give you the chance to get out there and mingle in the real world. But please, Tom. One condition.”

“Go on.”

“Don’t treat me any different. I’m still the same friend you can call on whenever you need me. Deal?”

For the first time since he had entered the bedroom, Tom’s face brightened. “Deal.”

Chapter Ten

OVERthe following two months, Marcus almost managed to avoid seeing Tom altogether. Truth be told, Tom laying his emotions on the line had unsettled Marcus. Of course he had always found Tom attractive—a lot of people knew that, even Raine—but as his best friend’s husband, the man had always been comfortingly off-limits. Forbidden fruit, so to speak. Yes, he’d had molten private fantasies about the unobtainable husband, but for some reason hearing that Tom had been having carnal thoughts about him had not only thrown him for a loop but frightened the bejesus out of him. What the hell was that all about?

Over time, the distance Tom asked for had worked both ways, and Marcus made a point of sticking tightly to schedules. Occasionally he and Tom would pass each other as one took responsibility for the girls from the other, but then they only had time to share a curt nod or a brief pleasantry. Without Marcus asking or even wanting to know, Moira or the girls kept Marcus updated on Tom’s dating progress. In an ideal world, that should have made Marcus feel better, maybe even have given him an incentive to get out there himself. But he didn’t live in an ideal world. Far from it. Even so, eventually Marcus turned off the green-eyed monster in his head taunting him with the notion that Tom was out there somewhere with his arm around some random woman.

One consequence of the arrangement was that Marcus had his Sundays back, no more family outings, and could lie in or do whatever he wanted—which was usually nothing. Or worse still, spend time at home stewing over his predicament. At least this week he would have the distraction of a business trip to Birmingham with Tina to sign the lease and get the fit-out started on his new restaurant.

This particular Sunday, however, the special complimentary hotel brunch with Daniel had finally come around. Marcus arrived early and had the pleasure of watching his handsome friend saunter in smiling, turning heads as he descended the three shallow stairs to the reception lectern. He’d chosen to wear a navy suit with an open-necked pale blue shirt. That together with his mop of blond hair made him look more the movie star than ever. After chatting to a clearly smitten waitress, he was led over to Marcus’s table.

Barely an hour into the brunch, after they had covered the usual pleasantries and had brought the other up-to-date on their recent career dramas, Daniel put down his fork. Decisively.

“Okay. What’s going on with you? If that cloud over your head gets any bigger, I’m getting the waiter to bring over an umbrella.”

Although nothing was ever going to happen between them, Daniel had become a firm friend. With him, of all people, Marcus could open up and be himself. For a fleeting moment he thought about telling him the source of his moodiness, but then relented because he felt that wouldn’t be fair to Tom. As the thoughts passed through him, Daniel eyed him coolly.

“Let me guess. It has something to do with Tom Bradford?”

Marcus put down his champagne glass and stared at Daniel in disbelief. “How the hell could you possibly know that?”

“Pretty bloody obvious. And I’m guessing that after you tried to restore his trust in his wife’s faithfulness with that picture of Stone and his partner, he either didn’t believe you or didn’t take it so well?”

“I haven’t even had the opportunity to tell him yet.”

“Why? What has he done?”

Somewhat dramatically, Marcus threw himself back in his seat and let out a big sigh, staring at the huge crystal chandelier above their table, hoping for aPhantom of the Operamoment. “He told me he had feelings for me. Ever since I came back from New York. Told me he wanted to take me upstairs and fuck me senseless.”

“I see.”

Marcus lowered his gaze to meet Daniel’s. “You don’t sound surprised?”

“You two have been spending a lot of time together. So what did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do? I ran a bloody mile, of course.”

Daniel laughed before taking a sip of champagne. “Congratulations, Mr. Vine. You’ve managed a conversion.”

“Not funny, Dan. In fact, it’s killing me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

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