Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,113
easy as it usually is with us. We wake up, make love, and shower together, laughing at the cramped confines of the shower. Then I make breakfast, and Gid washes the pots. We’ve found that he’s better at that than cooking. His perfectionism, as he calls it, shows up best in organising junk drawers and drying pots. I call it pernickety, but he ignores me.
It’s only when the phone rings and I hear Gid say, “Julian,” that it starts to go downhill.
Ah, Julian. A local estate agent. A gay local estate agent. Good-looking, very neat hair, and obviously wealthy. Oh, and he fancies Gideon something rotten, and it’s becoming very obvious.
I suppose it’s not exactly a surprise. We’d only thought of the backlash if Gid came out. I never considered that the numbers of his admirers would go up proportionately too, and now he’s become fair game for everyone. Whenever we go out, I somehow always end up standing to one side as he takes photos with men, oblivious to their heavy flirting. To add insult to injury, I’ve even been asked to hold the camera while they wrap their arms around my boyfriend and slip their numbers in his pocket.
That sounds like I don’t trust him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I know that he loves me. But there are so many men out there who would make more sense with Gideon than me, and their numbers are hard to ignore. It leaves me feeling whiny and uncertain. Two things I’ve never been in my relationships before.
Julian seems to have become the focal object of my ire. Probably because he’s always on the phone talking to Gideon. Not me. Me, he treats with politeness edged in disbelieving disdain that this is who Gideon Ramsay came out of the closet for.
Gideon doesn’t spot it. He’s far too absorbed in finding a home for us to notice anything else. And he’s oblivious to overtures because he’s had so many over the years. He’d admitted that I was the first man he’d ever chased.
He puts the phone down, and I hastily rearrange my expression. “Was that Julian?” I say, trying for enthusiasm and failing.
“He’s got some properties for us to see. He’s all ours for the day.”
“I bet he is,” I mutter, sliding the cleaning sponge around the hob.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I turn to face him, leaning against the cooker. “So, where are these places? Let me guess. They’re all ten-bedroom mansions with fittings made of gold in exclusive areas because God forbid Julian should actually listen to a word that comes out of my mouth over what I want price-wise.”
“Do you not like him?” he asks, worried. “Shall we get another estate agent?”
“No.” I sigh, moving past him and giving up on this conversation because there is no way I’m coming out of it covered in any glory. “Just saying it might be nice if someone around here listened to what I say.”
“Oh, I’m being dragged into this too. How lovely,” he says sharply. “I always listen to you. Haven’t I listened to you about every bloody property you’ve said no to?”
“Yes, you’ve listened, while planning what to say for the five hours afterwards that you’ll use to prove how wrong and stupid I’m being.”
“Eli!” he says in a shocked voice, grabbing my arm gently. “What the fuck? Where is this coming from?”
“Nowhere. Just ignore me, like my opinions,” I say pettily, feeling stupid anger rise in me. What the fuck am I doing? Am I deliberately trying to push him away? I shake his hand off. “I’m going to get changed, seeing as Julian dresses like he’s attending Ascot.”
“You don’t need to,” he says softly. “You look good in everything.”
I pull him to me, kissing him softly. His arms band around me tightly, and I know I’m freaking him out and worrying him, but I can’t seem to help it.
It’s only when I’m shut in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, that I assess my thoughts.
Am I trying to push him away? Do I think somehow that it’ll hurt less if I do it now rather than waiting to watch him walk away the way he’s done with everyone else?
I spit the toothpaste out and lean on the sink, sighing heavily. My brain is going round in my head like a hamster on a wheel, so I can’t think clearly. All I know is that Gideon doesn’t deserve this. He’s done nothing wrong.
Half an hour later, I tread down the