Operation Fake Relationship - Jay Northcote Page 0,27

I tried to push him into being someone he wasn’t, and all I succeeded in doing was driving him away.” He gave a dry huff of laughter that had no joy in it. “The irony is that he’s achieved so much, without any support from me. I’m so proud of him for the way he’s carved out his own path and done so well for himself.”

“You should tell him that,” Jackson said. “I think he’d like to hear it.”

“Yes. You’re right. I’ll talk to him when he gets back.” He put his peeler down and clapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jackson. You’re a good man.” He gave Jackson’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he added gruffly, “I’m glad Nick’s found someone like you.”

Complicated emotions rushed through Jackson: pride, guilt, and a wistful longing that almost choked him. “I’m lucky to have him,” he managed. In that moment he realised that he wished with all his heart that this pretence was the truth.

I’m in love with Nick. The realisation struck a blow to Jackson’s chest, stealing his breath. It was as though a lens had fallen into place and all his feelings suddenly slid into painfully clear focus. This wasn’t a crush. This was the real deal, only he hadn’t wanted to see it. Holy fucking shit. I’m in love with Nick and I had no idea.

He also had no idea what to do with the information now his unconscious mind had finally let it surface. So he picked up another potato and carried on peeling, wondering when exactly he had fallen in love with his best friend, and how he’d managed to hide it from himself for so long.

Jackson and Reg had finished peeling and chopping all the potatoes, then worked their way through the carrots, and were busy tackling a pile of Brussels sprouts when the sound of the back door alerted them to the walkers arriving home.

“The wanderers return,” Reg said lightly. “Did you have a nice walk?”

“Yes, it was lovely,” Sue replied. “Gosh! Haven’t you two been busy. Well done.”

“We went to the Pirate Tree,” Pete said. With his cheeks pink from the cold, he looked a lot brighter than he had before they’d left. “I can’t believe how good it’s looking. I thought it would have fallen apart by now.”

“I’ve been taking care of it,” Reg said. “I’ve fixed it up a few times over the years and treated the wood when it needed it.”

“Why?” Nick asked, his face intent. A strand of bright hair had fallen over his forehead. “Why would you bother?”

Reg shrugged. “We put a lot of work into making it. It seemed a shame to let it rot. Seth might want to play in it when he’s bigger, and maybe there’ll be other grandchildren eventually.”

“Not from me.” Pete wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I have a paternal bone in my body. But I’m sure Maria and Adrian want more sprogs. How about you two?” He glanced from Nick to Jackson and back again as he asked casually, “Do you want kids?”

Jackson’s heart skipped a beat.

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” Nick said smoothly. “But who knows? Maybe one day.” He smiled, a sweet intimate smile that made Jackson’s chest ache with all the things he’d been secretly longing for and never known about. His heart felt as if it had been torn wide open and all those hidden desires were flooding out like a river, threatening to sweep him away.

Somehow he managed to force himself to smile back.

“Maybe,” he said.

Eight

Nick was in the living room with Jackson, Seth, and Maria. The Queen was on TV making her annual Christmas speech. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Nick marvelled at Her Majesty. “I swear she doesn’t seem to have got any older since I was a kid. How is that possible?”

“Portrait in the attic?” Jackson suggested.

“Good genes?” Maria said. “The Queen Mother was incredible too.”

“Nick?” His dad’s voice from the doorway tore Nick’s attention away from pondering on the Queen’s miraculous longevity. “Can I have a word?” Something about his tone made Nick’s anxiety spike. “In private,” he added.

Nick’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, okay.” He kept his voice deliberately casual as he stood and stretched, before following his dad out of the room.

“We’ll talk in my study.”

Those words had Nick’s muscles tightening defensively. As he crossed the threshold into the forbidding gloom of the study, the dark wood-panelled walls seemed to close in around him, resonating with layer upon layer of unhappy memories of