Page 90 of Charlie Sunshine
We cover him up, and then Aidan ruffles his hair affectionately. “Misha, sweetie. I adore you always and think of you as another son. But if you throw up on my new sofa, that adoration is going to take a very painful turn. Do you understand?”
Misha pats his cheek. “Love you, Daddy Aidan.”
“And my work is done.” Aidan straightens up. “You going to be okay with him on your own?” he asks me.
“Of course I will.”
“Okay.” He grabs his suit jacket. “I’m off to the reception. Sam’s waiting, and weddings always make him feel romantic, if you know what I mean.” He winks at me.
I gag. “Far too much information.”
He laughs and bids me goodnight, and within seconds I hear the front door slam.
I bend over Misha. His hair is a wavy mess, his mouth is open, andhe smells like a whisky distillery, but at this moment he’s impossibly dear to me.
“You’re a bit of a twat at times, but I really,reallylove you,” I say fiercely, kissing him on the cheek. My answer is a soft snore.
I put the wastepaper basket next to him within easy retching distance along with some paracetamol and a glass of water, and then settle back on the other side of the sofa. I bunch the cushions behind my head and pull a couple of woollen throws over me from the back of the sofa. Switching the television on low, I settle in for a long night.
I come awake, slowly aware of someone stroking my hair. I open my eyes blearily and look up at Misha, who is bending over me. His shirt is gone as are his socks and shoes. All he’s wearing are his suit trousers, and they hang low on his narrow hips giving me a glimpse of sharp hipbones and the start of his V line. He’s golden all over in the low lamplight.
“Are you alright?” I ask, coming up on my elbows and staring at him.
“I feel like shit,” he mutters. “But hopefully the tablets will kick in before my brain explodes.” He hesitates and then gestures at my nest of throws. “Can I get in there, then?” he says abruptly.
I startle. “Ofcourseyou can.”
I raise the covers and edge up on the cushions. Thankfully there’s plenty of room, and it’s insanely comfortable. He settles next to me. His body is warm against mine, and for a few awkward minutes, we lie in silence.
Eventually, I stir. “I’m so sorry, Misha,” I say in a low voice.
“What for?” His voice is even and expressionless, and I wince.
“For making you feel like shit and less. I’ve never in my life thought that about you. I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re wonderful, and I hate the idea that I made you feel bad because I was tired and grumpy. It was such a shitty thing to do.”
He looks hard at me. “But I don’t know where it came from. It felt like you were picking a fight with me and using a bloke who wasn’t even a blip on my radar to do it. Why, Charlie?”
I hesitate. This is my time to be positive and upbeat, but I think I’veblotted my copybook so many times today that he definitely wouldn’t believe it.
“I was thrown out by having a turn in front of you,” I whisper. “I was embarrassed.”
“What?” His exclamation is loud, and he immediately rubs his forehead in a pained fashion.
“Come here.” I pull him to me, so he rests his head on my shoulder. I start to manipulate the pressure points on his hands, and, after a few minutes, he gives an easier sigh and nestles closer. “That’s a bit better. Okay, talk,” he instructs me.
I shrug. “I don’t know why, but I felt vulnerable coming to completely naked after the turn.”
“But you were with me?” The incredulity is loud in his voice.
“I know that. Before, when we were just friends, it was fine. But it’s not so easy being weak in front of someone you…” I hesitate and draw in a deep bolstering breath. “Someone you love,” I finish in a whisper.
“Charlie,” he says in an awed voice. “Oh, Charlie, really?” I nod, feeling my heart speed up as he gives me a glorious wide smile. He leans up and kisses me hard. “I love you too,” he says with passion in his voice. “So much.”
My head whirls. “When?”
“Always.” He shrugs. “I’ve loved you in some form or another since we were kids. This is just the latest and final version.” He gives me a look. “I’m hoping it will last the rest of our lives if you don’t make any more bad wedding-party choices.”
“Misha,” I gasp and grab him close, hugging him tightly and inhaling the scents of whisky, bergamot, and laundry powder. Happiness run through me.
