Page 35 of Don't Point at the Moon

Devon blinked. And blinked again.

“He’s asked me to move in. With him.”

“I heard you the first time. What’s the problem, Dev?”

“The problem is we’ve only just met. It’s a huge step, don’t you think? And I like him so much. But we’re both independent, both used to having our own space. I’m worried that if we’re sharingthe same flat and he gets to know the real me, he’ll lose interest and end up throwing me out.”

“Is that it? Is that what’s got you all wound up?”

Mitchell wanted to say something more about the insecurities of gay men but sensed that now was not a good time. Besides, he knew his sister shared many of those. Perhaps everyone did.

“How have you left things? With Oscar?”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“And how did he take that?”

“Honestly, he seemed a little disappointed. I think he thought I’d jump at the chance.”

Tommy thought back to a conversation with Mitchell about people who were meant to be together. Although he had only known them as a couple for a short while, Devon and Oscar fell comfortably into that category.

“Let me show you this through Oscar’s eyes. He really cares about you—any fool can see that—and he’s also a decent person. When he sees his lover in a predicament, of course he wants to help. But he also respects you, which is why he hasn’t pushed you to make a decision. I’m pretty sure he was nervous enough about asking you in the first place. As for living together, well, you never know until you try. But I’d say the most crucial thing is that you talk to each other, tell him your concerns about living in close proximity and maybe about setting boundaries or ground rules on personal space. Tell him you’ll want to move some of your furniture in and put your stamp of fabulousness on the apartment, with his help, approval and assistance naturally—”

“I’m not sure I could do that.”

“Has he been to your place?”

“Once or twice. His apartment is much bigger.”

“Listen to me. You resuscitated that squalid little flat in Tin Hau. I remember when you first moved into that hole with its stark white walls, chocolate brown woodwork and whitewashedwindows. Two weeks later the place was unrecognisable. Walls in shades of terracotta, gold and apricot. Diffusers with amazing scents. Rows of musical theatre posters lining the walls, colourful chiffon draped over table lamps, and who would have thought self-assembly furniture could look so chic and fashionable? You have a knack for making things fabulous, Devon. That’s your thing.”

Devon sat thinking for a few moments before his sadness melted away.

“I know you don’t do relationships, Tommy, but Oscar and I are at that point where neither of us can do anything wrong in each other’s eyes. And you’re right, we do need to have a chat. Thank you, darling. If only you and I were compatible, we would make an awesome couple.”

Sammi had once said the same thing. But neither Tommy nor Devon had ever felt anything more than friendship for each other, as though they were siblings.

“Good. Then it’s my turn. I’m considering hitting on Alec, the best man at my sister’s wedding. What do you think?”

“Is he attractive?”

“Stunning as a Hemsworth. Mitchell’s going to help. He’s agreed to be my date to the wedding.”

Tommy didn’t miss the insinuation behind Devon’s grin.

“Let me rephrase that. Mitchell Baxter has agreed to be mypretenddate—”

“Mitchell Baxter?” came Aaron’s voice high-pitched voice. He had returned unnoticed and stood now with his hands braced on the back of Devon’s chair. “Tell me you don’t mean Emperor Harold’s foot soldier, Mitchell Baxter?”

Tommy nodded, picking from his plate of green lettuce and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, dear. Are you sure about that, Tommy?”

“We have an agreement.”

“Do you seriously not see? To say the man is barely average is being generous. He stands out like bad shoes. We’re catwalk, darling, and he’s not even on the reserve guest list. Have you not noticed his complete lack of style? And don’t, whatever you do, accidentally let him into your bed, because that is the kind of mercy fuck that will end up with the words stalker written all over it.”

Aaron’s words seemed unnecessarily harsh, even for him. Tommy wanted to brush them off, but his brain had stalled.

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