Page 56 of The Missing Ingredient

“I want you to come home with me, Marcus. Tonight, if possible. But only if you want to. And if you do, I want you in my bed tonight. I want to wake up in the morning with you next to me and let the girls see us together. I’ll even take the day off tomorrow so that we can take them to school. Together. And later on we can go see Mum and Dad. Tell them about us. Not everyone’s going to understand or be happy—especially my football friends and work buddies. But that’s their problem. I can deal with anything. As long as I have you by my side. As long as I have your forgiveness.”

“I’ve already said you have that. But we need to communicate better in the future, Tom.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell each other things, especially feelings, and not leave each other to guess. I’m here for the long haul, a permanent fixture not just for the girls, but for you. To organize the house, meet the teachers, put up Christmas decorations, cook for you without you feeling as though it’s a chore for me. Someone you can trust never to simply up and disappear when times get tough. That’s not me.”

“I know,” said Tom, smiling gently. “I really do. But there’s only one thing I need right now.”

“And what’s that?”

“You.”

Marcus took a moment while he held Tom’s gaze.

“You’ve always had me.”

Epilogue

“OVERmy dead body,” said Moira, the disgust plain on her face.

“Mother, it’s my choice—”

“It’s not a choice,” she cried. “It’s an abomination.”

“Mum—”

“No, Tom. Absolutely not. I will not allow it.”

“Even if it’s what I want?” pleaded Tom. Although Marcus was pleased to see Tom keep his temper under control, he wanted to wade in. Instead, he stood in the background, unspeaking, lending solidarity but not interfering—as explicitly instructed.

“What about whatIwant?” said Moira, her voice almost cracking. “What about what our relatives will say, let alone the neighbors and the ladies of the conservative club? It’s disgusting. You have my support on most things, Thomas Jonathan Bradford, but not this. As for you, Marcus, I’m shocked and disappointed. Surely you of all people can see how wrong this is. Can’t you talk some sense into my son?”

“Actually, Moira—”

“Marcus,” said Tom, gently but firmly, “we agreed. This is my decision to make. Let me deal with my mother.”

“What have the girls said?”

“I wanted to get your blessing first of all.”

“Katie will disown you.”

“Ooh, come on, Mrs. B,” hissed Marcus. “That’s a bit strong.”

“Marcus. Please stay out of this.”

“I’m not backing down, Thomas. No son of mine—” began Moira.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, woman,” interrupted John sternly, wheeling in from the living room. He had clearly been trying to read the newspaper sitting open in his lap and been disturbed by the constant bickering. “It’s his life. Let him do what makes him happy.”

“What aboutmyhappiness? What aboutourrespectability?”

An uneasy calm fell between the four of them. Eventually Marcus took a huge sigh and decided to step into the fray to break the stalemate.

“Look, I know nobody’s asked my opinion. But on this occasion, I actually agree with Moira. Every step of the way.”

Both John and Tom turned on Marcus then. Tom was the first to speak.

---