Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“I don’t have time for relationships,” Ed said evasively. It was almost true. He certainly didn’t have the energy to go looking for someone to distract him from Alec, even if he’d wanted to.
“That’s a shame.” His mum sounded disappointed.
Back at the house, Gemma flung her arms around Ed as she greeted him. “Hey,” she said.
“Blimey, Gem. You’ve grown again.” Ed looked her up and down when she pulled away. She must have shot up at least another inch since he’d seen her at Christmas, just a few weeks ago.
“Well, obviously.” She rolled her eyes, but the pleased flush on her cheeks gave her away.
Greg, Ed’s stepdad, stood up from his seat at the kitchen table. “Hi, Ed. Good to see you.”
“You too.” Ed moved forward to give him a quick hug.
Greg was the only father he’d ever really known. Ed’s dad had left when he was five, and he hadn’t seen him since he was seven. Greg had come into Ed’s and his mum’s lives at around the same time. Greg had filled the space Ed’s biological father had left behind, loving Ed unconditionally and never making him feel he was less important than his sisters.
“What’s cooking?” Ed sniffed. The smell of baking permeated the warm air in the kitchen.
“Double choc chip muffins.”
“Awesome.” Ed turned to his mum. “Shall I put my bag upstairs? I assume I’m in my old room. You haven’t turned it into a gym or a man cave for Greg yet?” The twins liked sharing, so Ed’s bedroom had remained nominally his when he went away to uni, even though most of his stuff was in the flat in London now.
Greg laughed. “I should be so lucky.”
“You’ve got your shed. What more do you need?” Ed’s mum teased. Then she turned back to Ed. “And yes, it’s still the same in there. I made up the bed for you.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Ed carried his bag upstairs, smiling as the fourth step creaked as it always had. He opened the door to his room and was assaulted by memories.
He looked at the desk, where he’d sweated blood revising for his A levels, the narrow bed where he’d lain and fantasised about David Beckham for years, and where he’d eventually had his first awkward, fumbling hand job from Jeremy who lived up the street and was in the year above him at school. The walls were still painted in the too-dark shade of blue he’d insisted on when he was thirteen and the duvet cover was the Harry Potter one he’d got for his sixteenth birthday—a joke gift from his mum that had ended up being his favourite. She still always put it on when he came to visit. It made Ed smile.
Ed sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over the cover. Quiet contentment filled him as he relaxed properly for the first time in weeks. Some things never changed. The girls got bigger, Greg and his mum got a few extra laugh lines, but home still felt like home.
It was good to be here.
Alec enjoyed the drive out to Newbury despite his trepidation. Living in Central London, he rarely used his car. It was an expensive luxury he could probably have done without, but he kept it anyway. What was the point of working the hours he did if you couldn’t enjoy some of the perks of the salary?
When he finally escaped the snarl of London traffic and hit a clear stretch on the M4, he settled back behind the wheel of his Saab and put his foot down.
The place his mother had booked for lunch was a new restaurant that Alec had never been to before. It was a purpose-built extension on the back of a country pub. According to his mother, it had rave reviews. No doubt it would be good. His family never settled for anything but the best.
Alec was heading straight there rather than meeting his parents at their house. That would mean he’d need to stay sober so he could drive his car back to their house later, but it postponed the family-only part of the day, and Alec was all for delaying that as long as possible. With the buffer of the other guests, the lunch would be all about keeping up appearances. Alec was good at playing the part of the dutiful son. He had years of practice.
He arrived a few minutes after twelve—the time his mother had told him to be there for pre-lunch drinks. Alec paused for a moment, gripping the wheel, and took a deep breath as he shifted gears in his brain ready to deal with his family. He found them exhausting. All perfect etiquette and genteel veneer on the surface, with a mess of ugly dysfunctionality lurking underneath. He fleetingly wondered what Ed would make of them.