Page 72 of Salvaging Christmas
“That’s a given. But you need to let me take care of you, too, Trev. Deal?”
“Deal. And if you want,” said Trevor, releasing Rudy, “I can come back with you and help you pack.”
Rudy tilted his head in puzzlement before looking back at his holdall.
“I’m already packed.”
“Back in Scotland. Help you pack for your new life down here.”
“But I’m flying later this afternoon.”
“I figured you were. And I’ll need to buy a ticket at the airport if we’re flying together. Or don’t you want me to come back with you?”
“Of course I do,” said Rudy, aghast now. “Mother would be over the moon to see you. But don’t you have other things to do?”
“Not really. Yes, the house will be empty, but Cheryl can go and feed the goldfish if I ask. I’ve got all my work here on the computer. And next week I don’t have to physically visit any clients, so the least I can do is come help my new partner—wow, I really like the sound of that—pack for his future life with me.”
While Trevor had been talking, a broadly grinning Rudy had been checking something on his phone.
“How about a compromise?”
“Go on.”
“If I stay one more night—at your place, perhaps—to give you time to pack and me a chance to check out the bed in my new digs—”
“Our bed.”
“Our bed. Then we can both take the six-thirty train up from Euston tomorrow.”
“What about your plane ticket?”
“Not booked yet. I was going to get a standby at the airport.”
Trevor laughed happily. “Then it’s a deal.”
Across the restaurant, he barely heard the two men framed in the open kitchen doorway, standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing too and clapping their hands.
“Are you done yet? Can we bring the drinks and appetisers?” asked Tom.
After pleasantly surprising Trevor with a very drinkable sparkling wine produced by a vineyard in Sussex, Marcus impressed Rudy with a traditional Scottish soup of seafood with crab and rice, one he introduced as partan bree. Trevor thought the name sounded like cheese, but Rudy knew better, though he had only ever tasted the one made by their housekeeper, Millie. When the main course came along—Marcus serving his delicious spin on the Scottish classic of haggis, neeps and tatties—Rudy insisted Tom and Marcus join them. Trevor sat back at one point, listening to the easy conversation between the three men, with Rudy promising to bring them to Scotland one day. He would introduce Marcus to Millie so he could grill her about recipes while Tom went fishing on the loch. While Marcus and Tom cleared plates and prepared dessert in the kitchen, Trevor and Rudy found themselves alone again. A very happy Rudy reached across the table and grasped Trevor’s hands in his own.
“I love your friends. They’re such easy company.”
“Technically, Marcus is my client. But I know what you mean. Isn’t it great to have clients you can categorise as friends?”
“Sure is. And what I meant to say earlier—and messed up monumentally—is that I couldn’t stand this geographical distance between us. I need to be close to you. I’m not sure I really believe in fate, but somehow everything feels right when I’m with you, when we’re together, Trev. And I want to see where this goes.”
“So do I.” A warm feeling of optimism filled Trevor, and he lifted his wineglass in the air. “Let’s do this, Rudy. Together. For the sake of old times gone by.”
Rudy raised his glass and clinked it with Trevor’s.
“To old times gone by. And new ones to come.”
