Page 36 of Take My Breath Away
“Maddy’s circumstances changed, out of the blue and dramatically. Family issues. She had to go back to Canada.”
“So your plans came to a standstill?”
I nod. “As far as getting our own place, yes. When we were working together, we did it out of somebody else’s premises.”
James’ eyes are full of questions, and somehow I feel he deserves all the answers.
“Where I used to live, before Grant, there was a small café around the corner. An older couple owned it. They did the best sandwiches and I used to pick one up each day, on the way to work. Dead cheap, too.”
It’s impossible not to smile when I talk about Joyce and Ian.
“I got friendly with them and I asked if me and Maddy could rent some kitchen time and space from them. I explained why, and they were really enthusiastic. You need room to do this kind of work, and proper storage facilities. Most domestic kitchens don’t cut it. Anyway, it worked out really well, and I think they were happy to get some cash in hand. When Maddy went home, it was just me. The orders were still coming in, but working a full-time day job, it was getting difficult to keep up. I didn’t let down any clients, but it was a near thing. But then it all came to a sudden stop.”
James’ brow crinkles. “How do you mean?”
“Joyce died suddenly, and Ian sold up. It all happened so quickly. The area was going through a lot of gentrification, and the café, and the other shops along that stretch of road, are all flats now. Shortly after, I moved in with Grant, and I couldn’t work from there because his kitchen wasn’t much more than a cupboard. So it all ground to halt.”
Plus, Grant didn’t like me monopolising his excuse of a kitchen to makefucking fairy cakes, as he always put it. I keep that nugget of humiliation under my belt.
With a final glance at the laptop, James wanders over to the fridge and pulls out a couple of beers. He flips the tops and hands me one. It feels like a peace offering and I’m more than happy to take it. The whole issue of Brighton has shocked him. I’m not sure why. It won’t make any difference to him where I go when I finally leave. The thought’s a heavy weight in my stomach, but it’s nothing more than the truth.
He takes a long glug from his bottle before he rests his feline gaze on me.
“I’ve a friend,” he says. “I might have mentioned him, I’m not sure. His name’s Jack. He and his husband have a very successful bakery, but they also do a lot of private commission work. I think you should talk to them. They know what they’re doing and they’ve made a great success of it. Contacts, Perry, they’re what make the wheels turn.” Chucking his empty bottle into the recycling, he heads for the door. “I’ll send him a text and get something sorted out,” he throws over his shoulder, as he wanders out of the kitchen.
* * *
JAMES
Escaping to my bedroom, I close my eyes as I slump against the door, taking in deep, steady breaths. I’ve had a shock, it’s the only way to put it. It’s the first I’ve heard of Perry wanting to set up on the South coast, and it’s come as a complete bombshell.
He’s got plans and ambitions and dreams and desires, and I admire him for it, just like I admire the way he wants to get his life back on track after the disaster of Grant. And what he says about having no ties in London, to people or places, is true in a blunt, stark way. There’s nothing to hold him, he’s as free as a bird, but knowing he wants to take to the air and fly far, far away is a hard and heavy punch to the gut. Not that Brighton’s that far, just an hour or so on the train, but it’s far enough to loosen the bonds we’ve formed. If he leaves the city, those bonds will unravel and fall away.
I’ve got used to him being here, with me. No, more than used to it, because that sounds like it’s something to be put up with, and Perry will never be that. He’s become an integral part of my home just like he’s become an integral part of my life, and I can’t imagine either without him.
For the first time in years, I look forward to coming home and closing the door on the day. The after work siren call of bars and clubs, full of heat and the smell of sex, has gone silent, and it’s all down to Perry.
Sinking down on the bed, I send Jack a message with a very brief explanation. If I can help Perry achieve what he wants, I will, even if I resent it, knowing it means he’ll go.
Jack and his husband Rory will be honest about what it means to set up and run a business of the type Perry wants on a full-time basis. It’ll be a useful reality check, just like looking at those disgusting rooms was. The phone vibrates in my hand, and I read Jack’s reply. Just as I expect he and Rory are more than happy to help, and I make arrangements for the four of us to meet later in the week because I sure as hell am going, too.
I throw my mobile aside and flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I’ll help Perry, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
After a quick shower, I make my way back downstairs, to the kitchen filled with the warm and delicious aroma of the meal Perry’s cooked for us. My heart drops, knowing that times like this are numbered.
“I’ve made arrangements with Jack for us to meet later in the week, after work if that’s okay?” Perry’s dishing up the dinner. He looks at me, a grin breaking out over his face.
“That’s great, thank you.”
I nod but don’t say anything as I sit down.
Maybe running his own business single handedly from his own premises will turn out to be too much to take on; maybe he could do it part-time; maybe he’ll stay working for Elliot; maybe he’ll stay here and not talk about leaving. But they’re selfish thoughts, and all about what I want because that’s all my life has always been: what and who I want, on my terms.
But not this time. For the first time ever I’m thinking about what somebody else wants, about their dreams and ambitions, and I hate it.
Perry’s chatting away, about this and that, and I tell him as much as I can about my day, anything to not have to think about why it is I don’t want him to go.
Chapter Seventeen
