Page 81 of Companion Required

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kieran

Singapore, May 2019

Heavy monsoon rains had dissolved the stifling humidity of the May afternoon in Singapore, leaving behind the promise of a clear evening. Droplets fell from the old mango tree in the grounds of Kennedy’s parents’ place, with garden fragrances of jasmine and sandalwood rising to scent the air. In the eighteen months since Kennedy’s parents had visited them for Christmas, their world had transformed.

“Where is he?” asked Kieran, carrying a tray of pungent Indonesian appetisers to the outdoor table, followed closely by Matius, pushing a rattling, clinking drinks trolley laden with bottles of spirits and jugs of soft drinks. Kieran had spent the last hour watching—and occasionally helping—Maya prepare Indonesian dishes in the outside kitchen, mesmerised at the array of natural ingredients and spices going into the wok for each dish.

Laurie and Claire sat watching the last of the rain from beneath a canopy beside the swimming pool. Steph sat a few feet away, next to the back porch doorway, cooled by the air-conditioning from inside the house. Little Polly lay asleep in a crib, with Steph rocking her gently from side to side. Even though Laurie had been the birth mother, their baby had brought out the maternal side of Steph.

“Kennedy? Inside feeding the twins,” said Laurie, enjoying a cooling Singapore Sling. Kieran came over and joined them, sitting in the low two-seater rattan sofa. “He’s managed to get Link off to sleep, but Clint’s got a bit of colic, he thinks.”

“Maya will go help now,” said Matius, before heading back towards the kitchen.

Lincoln and Clinton had been born four months earlier, courtesy of a surrogate mother. Neither Kieran nor Kennedy had been expecting twins, but both had been as delighted as the other. Kennedy had been the donor, but Kieran had insisted on the names, in keeping with family tradition.

“I can’t believe how he is with them. I swear he has the patience of a saint.”

Not much in life left Kennedy speechless and in awe, but with the arrival of their twins Kieran had seen a fundamental change in him, in his priorities. Even with Kieran’s mother living with them, overjoyed at being a grandmother and only too willing to help, Kieran often drove home at the end of a long day to find Kennedy already there, feeding and burping the boys, or getting them off to sleep. Usually he dismissed the event as ‘working from home’, but Kieran knew better. If Polly had brought out the maternal in Steph, then the twins had brought out the doting parent in Kennedy.

“Well, he does have a lot of practice, having to live with you and Ed,” came Steph’s voice from the shade.

“I heard that,” said Kieran, joining in Laurie’s and Claire’s laughter.

“Where’s Jeff?” asked Laurie, handing Kieran a chilled glass of white wine and clinking their glasses.

“Doing me a favour,” said Kieran, quietly to Laurie. “He’s on his way back from the airport right now. Friends are over for a working holiday and having dinner with us before heading to their hotel.”

“And tell me again why they’re invited to afamilygathering?” called Steph.

“Bloody hell. Does your wife have super-hearing?” asked Kieran, mugging at Laurie.

“Meet Wonder Woman,” said Laurie, giggling.

“You know Jeff,” said Claire. “Always finding waifs and strays to bring home.”

“Mum!” said Kieran, with mock outrage. “I hardly think the son of the Earl of Stratham is either a waif or a stray. Nor is his partner, Trevor. They were the ones who helped arrange our wedding in Scotland at short notice, as well as the catering, and I didn’t hear you complain then.”

Everything had fallen into place so quickly almost a year ago, through friends of friends. Cole’s pals from Japan, returning in January from their holiday in Scotland, had sown the seeds in Kennedy’s mind when they’d met for a drink. And once Kennedy got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. They’d referred him to their friends who, through family connections, had managed to find a slim window of opportunity to host the wedding for the newly appointed CEO of Grey Steel International and his gay partner. They, in turn, had got in touch with the famous chef Marcus Vine to request his help in catering—something Vine was famous for declining because of a busy career running his international restaurants. But somehow, he’d found the time, and everything had come together beautifully, with Kieran and Kennedy finally getting married on a glorious day in early June with Loch Arkaig, Ben Nevis and the stunning grounds of Mortimer Hall as their backdrop.

“That lovely young man, Rudolph? Why didn’t you say so? Stephanie, I know I’ve said it before, but it was such a shame you and Laurie couldn’t be there. So close to Polly’s birth and everything. But the whole ceremony was like something out of a Disney movie, with this world-renowned chef actually there, catering the whole event. His partner even helped set up a couple of marquees on the grounds. Did we tell you? Absolutely adorable.”

“Yes,” said Steph, while Laurie rolled her eyes at Kieran. They’d hated not being there, but Polly had been premature and a difficult pregnancy for Laurie, and they hadn’t wanted to take any chances. “We saw the photos, Claire. The official ones, as well as all those posted by guests on Kieran’s Facebook wedding page. Even saw a couple of them featured in Attitude mag.”

Kieran noticed Kennedy heading out to join them. Forty-five years old and he still looked good enough to eat. As he spotted them and walked into the sunlight, when Kieran saw a flash of gold on his wedding finger, his heart swelled with pride. In the last hour he’d changed his shirt to a loose-fitting, short-sleeved Indian cotton affair in aubergine, opened at the collar to reveal his chest hair. Kieran knew the shirt well, because he owned the damn thing. Seeing Kennedy wearing his clothing, he felt himself getting hard and had to adjust himself, before waving Kennedy over to his seat.

“Thought I might find you here,” said Kennedy, squeezing in next to Kieran, taking the glass of wine from him and having a sip. “Leaving the old ones to do all the manual labour.”

Before they’d even tied the knot—and probably because he’d warmed to the idea of having his own little Polly—Kennedy had been the one to push for kids through surrogacy. And, as usual, he’d taken to the project like a man with a mission.

“Why are you wearing my shirt? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Little Clint puked on mine.”

“Ah. How is he?”

“Asleep now. Maya managed to calm him down. She’s amazing with them, insisted on watching them, even though I said I’d take the baby monitor. I wonder what it would take to persuade her and Matius back to England—”

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