Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,71

steps back. “I’ve never been happier,” he says in the most serious tone of voice I’ve ever heard.

“It looks good on you,” Jack says, hugging him too. As he’s a much better person than me, he puts his back into the embrace.

We watch Tom and Bee ambling back to the hotel with Freddy and Diana, all four of them laughing and talking. I feel a cold spot hit my nose and then another and another. “More snow,” I say delightedly, and Jack kisses me.

“Well, that’s done then,” my dad says. “Two wonderful pieces of news tonight.” He turns to my mum. “I know a great little cafe that sells the best grass. Shall we, my lady?”

She smiles at him and puts her arm through his, and, blowing a kiss at us, they walk away. Jack and I watch them wander down the cobbled street until they disappear from sight.

I turn to him. “Are you sure you really want to do this? I’m not ordered like Steven. I think I might be allergic to spreadsheets, and I have at best a twenty-minute plan for life. My parents are stoners, and I mostly bring chaos, mess, sarcasm, and clumsiness.”

“You’re like my own personal version of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.”

“Yes, but without the horse. I’m never getting on one again after Cromer.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says loyally. “Your horse just happened to fancy the one in front.”

“Yes, but a better rider might have managed to steer him away rather than towards the object of his affection.”

We both shudder at the subsequent memory, although Jack looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

He grabs me close, and I settle into him, feeling safe and warm and vaguely horny. The snow falls around us, thickening and blanketing the road in white and leaving us in a silence that makes it feel like we’re the last men on earth.

“I will take everything you give me,” Jack says solemnly. “All the chaos, all the mess. Because you know what?” I shake my head, my heart full of so many feelings for this complex and lovely man. “Because it comes with you, Arlo. You fill my head all the way through, so I don’t think about being perfect. Just perfect for you. That’s my concern now.”

We kiss, and when I pull back, I’m breathless. “So, we’re together?” He nods. “And we’re going to date when we get back?”

“Hard,” he says emphatically.

I wink. “Just what every good boy needs.” He rolls his eyes and I poke him. “Jack, must you make everything so smutty?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve still got a way to go before I sink to your own personal level of innuendo.”

I laugh and then smile sappily at him. He looks happy and wonderfully messy. I have so many feelings running through me for him. They’ve always been there, but now I let them run free. I know I’m going to love him. I’m already most of the way there.

“Well, there’s only one fly in the ointment,” I say cheerfully. He looks at me with sudden concern, and I can see he’s entirely ready to ride to the rescue. “We’ve still got to fly home, and I have concerns and questions about Schiphol’s runway and control tower that I need to share with you.”

He groans and hugs me close, kissing my temple, his breath warm on my face. “I’ll take care of you,” he says, and there’s a solemnness to the words that give them power and weight.

I swallow hard. “As long as you let me take care of you, too.”

He pulls back and looks into my eyes, his expression serious. “Of that, I have no doubt, Arlo Wright.”

Epilogue

ONE YEAR LATER

Arlo

I bike down the narrow, cobbled street. The wind blows in my face, sharp and cold and tasting of snow. Beside me, a party boat cuts through the dark water of the canal, leaving behind a faint trace of Christmas music.

I roll to a stop and unfasten my bag from the bike. I pause for a second to take in the beautiful view.

The Jordaan neighbourhood is covered in a blanket woven from warm white fairy lights and the shadows and golden light cast by old iron lampposts. Laughter drifts from the restaurant across the canal where a group of people have clustered drinking and talking. It’s a sight I never grow tired of.

The Westerkerk Clock strikes the hour, reminding me that I have a home to get to. I turn toward the old canal house