Half an hour later, I follow him out of the building and into the waiting car. “I feel amazing,” I say, throwing my hands out wide.
He grins at me almost shyly. “You enjoyed it, then?”
“I bloody well did,” I say stoutly. “I want to do that again.” I nudge him. “Especially if you wear that very charming hat again, Gabe. You looked like a suffragette just off to get her placard,” I finish dreamily.
He shakes his head. “Hope you’re hungry, smartarse.”
“Starving. What about you?”
He nods and then refuses to answer any of my questions which accounts for my eagerness in sticking my head out of the window when the car slows. “We’re by the river,” I say. “Is the restaurant near the Thames?”
“Not exactly,” he says, climbing out of the car and offering me his hand which I take happily. “More on it.”
“Oh my God,” I say, staring at the elegant boat moored up. There’s a man in a smart uniform waiting beside it.
“We’re doing a river cruise, and the chef will prepare a meal,” he says. “You can see London at night.”
“I’ve seen them go by before,” I inform him. “But they’re usually playing eighties tunes really loudly, and loads of people are sick over the side.”
He makes a moue of distaste. “Well, far be it from me to deprive you of Bon Jovi and Madonna and vomiting overboard, but maybe you’ll like this better.”
“I’ll give it a try,” I say bravely, and he shakes his head and laughs.
He isn’t laughing an hour later.
“Dylan, are you okay?” he asks through the boat’s bathroom door.
I groan. “Ugh! I feel like shit.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you get seasick?”
I try to judge the situation and decide it’s safe enough to lean back against the wall. “I didn’t know. The only time I’ve been on a boat was when I was ten, and it was a pedalo with Jude in the South of France. We got into trouble for pedalling it around the headland so we could spy on the nudist beach.”
There’s a soft snort through the door. “Let me in,” he says his voice low and warm.
“I don’t think so,” I say immediately.
“Why on earth not?” He sounds affronted.
“Gabe, if you see me vomiting, all the mystique will have gone. You’ll no longer want me, because all you’ll see going forwards will be my green complexion.”
“Yes, but I always had a bit of a thing for the Incredible Hulk,” he says earnestly.
I snort a laugh and then groan as my stomach roils. “Ugh.”
“Let me in,” he says insistently.
I comply and flick the lock. He eases in through the gap, looking tall and handsome in the navy checked Hugo Boss suit I know he put on just for me.
“I’m sorry,” I say miserably.
“What on earth are you sorry for?” he says briskly. He reaches over and flushes the toilet and then grabs a towel and wets it in the sink. Then he sinks down to sit cross-legged next to me and puts the towel across my clammy forehead.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” I sigh.
He smiles at me, and it’s the smile that only I ever see. Intimate and warm and so full of love that I always feel humbled to have it directed at me.
“Bend forward,” he instructs me.
“Gabe, it’s a lovely thought, but sex and vomit should never go together.”
“So I can put the cloth on the back of your neck, you twat.”
I lean forward and feel the cold towel moving in tender strokes. “Sorry for ruining the night,” I say again.
“You didn’t,” he says, and there’s a chiding fondness in his voice. “We’re together, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but a bathroom—even one as posh as this—isn’t conducive to romance.”
“I think there are all types of romance,” he murmurs, the towel still moving over my neck. “This is just the real kind.”
“How the fuck did you get so wise?”
“I had a good teacher.”
“That’s me, isn’t it?” I say, lifting my head and finding him smiling at me. “Admit it,” I say nudging him.
He chuckles, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound. “It’s always you,” he says solemnly.
I smile at him. “And it’s always you for me. But don’t kiss me,” I say quickly. “That’ll really put a downer on this moment.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Not fucking likely.”
I start to laugh and he grins at me. Then I fall sideways and rest my head on his shoulder. His arm automatically comes around me pulling me closer. Then he reaches into his pocket and produces a