Page 5 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Three

Patrick

“It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine,” I whispered to myself over and over, repeating it like some sort of mantra. Maybe if I told myself enough, I’d start to believe it.

I stared at the laptop on my kitchen table like it was about to bite me. There was still time for me to back out of this call and the party. I could tell everyone I’d gotten food poisoning from bad takeaway. That would work. Or I could just not tell them I was gay. I’d been putting it off for twenty-nine years; it could wait a little longer.

Except, I didn’t really want to wait any longer. I’d been wanting to tell them for years now, but I’d never had the right words and it never seemed like the right time. But now I was getting to the point where I wanted to find someone, or at least try. Maybe it was selfish of me to want to tell them now purely because I wanted to find a boyfriend. I’d just thought it would be easier to do it before I actually found someone, but maybe that was the wrong decision. Maybe I should have told them years ago when I’d finally figured it out for myself, rather than waiting another five years to tell anyone.

But before I could linger any more on when or where I might have told my family, the familiar digital ringtone of Skype started echoing through my kitchen, and soon my screen was filled with familiar faces.

I was the youngest of five children, so I had four incredibly lovely but incredibly nosy older sisters. I’d been what you’d call a “surprise”, arriving nine years after my sister Mary, by which time my oldest sister, Cara, was already sixteen. My sisters had always viewed me as a combination of baby brother and communal pet project, so despite the fact that I was nearly thirty, they often treated me like I was seven. It was never meant to be mean-spirited though. I just think they forgot their baby brother was a fully grown man sometimes. But since my oldest nephew was already in his early twenties, I got where it came from.

It didn’t help that I was soft spoken and a bit of a pushover around them just like my Da. My sisters were largely extroverted. I loved them though, and that was what mattered.

“Patrick!” my second sister, Imogen, cried as soon as my Skype connected. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m good, Im. How’re all of you?”

“We’re good. I can’t wait to see you next week. It’s been too long since I got a Patrick hug.”

“Get in line,” said Orla, sister number three. “We all miss our baby brother.”

A pang of guilt set in because I hadn’t seen them for ages. I’d missed last Christmas because we’d decided to open the restaurant for the first time to do Christmas bookings, since so many people had asked for them. I’d used the excuse that I was the senior pastry chef and it was my job to cover the service. I hadn’t wanted Darcie to have to give up her family Christmas since her sister had just had a baby. Secretly, I was happy to work because I wanted to avoid my family while I tried to work out how to tell them the whole surprise I’m gay thing.

“How was your weekend?” my mum asked, finally getting a word in edgeways. She still had her Irish brogue, even though she’d lived in Devon for nearly fifty years. It had stubbornly refused to shift into a Devon burr, and as a result, most of my sisters and I had a lilting Irish note to our voices too.

“Fine. We had a busy service yesterday, and I made some plans for the cake,” I said. “I think I’m going to bring it down in pieces and assemble it in your kitchen if that’s okay?”

“Of course! Just let me know if you need me to get anything.”

“Thanks, but I think it will be fine. I was chatting it over with Connor yesterday, and I’ve made a plan.”

“Oh? I thought Connor wasn’t working at The Pear Tree anymore?” Mary asked, and I saw her raise an eyebrow in her tiny onscreen picture.

“No, he doesn’t. But he came round last night and made dinner, then we watched a movie.” We’d ended up curled up on the sofa, his head resting on my chest while we watched some ridiculous romcom that was supposed to be really popular. Connor and I loved watching cheesy movies together, the more ridiculous the better, but this one had really pushed the boundary of possibility. I think that had made me enjoy it even more. It had been a nice way to end the weekend, and the fact that Connor had been so supportive about me telling my family had made many of my worries melt away.

We’d been friends for three years, and even though I’d known Connor was gay, I was still worried he wouldn’t accept me or that things would change once I’d told him. I’d felt a slight pang of guilt that I should have told him ages ago because he’d always been open with me, but, again, I’d never been able to find the words. I’d always been afraid that if I said something, it would change everything between us, and that was the last thing I’d wanted. But considering we’d ended up curled up together, the same way we always did, I didn’t think things would change at all. Which made my chest lurch for two different reasons I wasn’t ready to examine.

Mary hummed, and the conversation moved on to other things—mostly a general catch up and then details about the party. It was taking place in one of the barns on my parents racing yard, and apparently Da and some of the guys he worked with had already spent three days clearing it out. There was going to be a band, a bar, a catering company providing canapes and a huge buffet, plus a wood-fired pizza oven because my mum didn’t want people going hungry. Apparently, mum thought she was feeding a thousand people instead of just the couple of hundred or so guests.

Half my brain turned back to the cake, wondering whether I should do something tiered to make sure there was enough or if I should just make a couple of extra cakes that could be cut up to serve. That would certainly be easier than moving several tiers, and I had some large, rectangular cake tins at work I could use. I usually made brownies or large traybakes in them, but they’d do fine. I could probably even borrow them for the weekend. Aaron wouldn’t care, and I could give Darcie a heads-up so she knew where they were. We were closed on Mondays, and I’d have them back for Tuesday morning when I needed to start baking for the week.

“Patrick? Did you get that?” Cara’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Sorry, I missed that.”

“Are you okay?” Imogen asked gently. “You’re distracted today. Is something wrong?”

“No, not really.” I took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any, I guessed. “I need to tell you all something.” There was a pause, and I looked at my hands rather than the camera. The last thing I needed was to see their faces right now. My heart was racing, and the lump in my throat made it so I could barely get the words out. “I… I’m gay.”

My laptop speakers exploded with chatter, and when I finally glanced at the screen, all I saw was a gaggle of smiling faces. I’d sort of tuned out their reactions, mostly because they were so loud, I’d been half-deafened. From what I could pick up, there seemed to be non-stop words of love and support. Relief flooded my system, and I let out a breath that I felt like I’d been holding for years. I’d imagined having this conversation a thousand times with my family, but I’d never quite pictured it happening like this. Everything was going to be okay.

Just like Connor had said it would be.

Until I heard Connor’s name and all my thoughts came to a screeching, grinding halt.

“Sorry, repeat that,” I said, staring blankly at my screen. This time, I knew I’d missed something important.

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