Page 14 of Commitment Issues
Chapter Six
Elliot
“What have I done, Jasper? What the fuck have I done?”
Jasper, my mutt with arthritic back legs and more grey hairs than me, wriggles onto his back and offers up his pink tummy for a rub.
“You’re such a little tart but I can never resist your charms.” The dog answers with a yelp and a thump of his stubby tail.
Sometimes I think Jasper’s the only good thing to have come out of my relationship with Gavin. Four years ago, he’d come home with the dog, clearly not believing the adage that a dog wasn’t just for Christmas, and by New Year’s Eve he’d got bored with the four-legged scrap. I, by contrast, had fallen head over heels in love.
“You’ve been a lot more loyal than Gavin, haven’t you? Are you going to tell me what a fool I am? Or that asking a kid who’s young enough to be my son to play act at being my boyfriend is either a sign of advancing senility or a desperate act to recapture my youth? Hmm, are you, boy?”
Jasper squirms as I run my fingers across his tubby belly that feels like warm suede, and I can’t help but smile as his pink tongue lolls from the side of his mouth, a mouth that no longer has all the teeth it once had. He’s always such a loving little thing. Ugly, but loving. Ugly when he creeps onto the foot of my bed, where he knows he’s not supposed to go, and farts, but loving when he snuggles up on my lap.
“God alone knows what possessed me, but you won’t judge me will you? And what’s everybody going to think when I turn up with him?” I say, staring down at my wriggling, squirming dog as though I’m waiting for him to answer. “He’s so bloody young. Okay, some of them might think I’m one lucky bastard, but everybody else will think it’s some kind of pathetic attempt to reclaim my long-lost youth. Or that Freddie’s latched onto me like I’m his sugar daddy. Which he hasn’t, and I’m not. Why did I do it, Jas, why?”
I get up from the sofa and make my way to the kitchen, where I pull out another cold beer from the fridge. Jasper pads across with me, his back legs very stiff. Flipping the top off the bottle, I drink deep.
It’s early in the evening, and I’m home hours before I’d normally be. Because I never went back to the office. Instead, I’d telephoned Perry and told my very surprised Executive Assistant that I’d see him tomorrow. There’d been no point in going back to try and work because there was only one thing I could think about. Or someone.
Freddie.
Bright blond hair, pillowy lips, and deep hazel eyes shining green and gold. Just the thought of him makes my balls ache and my cock thicken. It’s been a long time since any man’s done that, and even longer since the now absent Gavin had. Why have I thrown all reason and good sense out of the window? Is it to do with basic, old fashioned lust? A man would have to be dead not to be attracted to Freddie, but it’s got to be so much more than that. He’d shown himself to be intelligent and honest, traits I admire and value. And quirky, because anybody who’s passionate about Viking studies shows a healthy disregard for the mainstream.
“Do you think I’m mad, Jas?”
Jasper cocks his head to the side, as though he’s considering my question. He’s a smart dog, ugly but smart, so he may very well decide to stand up on his rickety hind legs and talk to me. If he does, I’ll be a lot less surprised than by my agreement to go through with James’ ludicrous, juvenile plan.
“Or do you think this is some form of middle-aged male menopause? Do you think that’s why I’ve jumped in feet first?”
Because that’s not me. I don’t make irrational off-the-cuff decisions. I analyse, and think things through. I employ strategy. I take risks, because you have to in business, but those risks are calculated every inch of the way which means they’re not really risks at all, I suppose. This approach has served me well in my professional life, and I’ve taken the same approach in my personal life.
Bile coats my throat and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick. Cautious and calculated, staid and dull. The words Gavin threw at me. No spontaneity, no excitement. As boring as fuck. A boring fuck. I fumble to put the bottle down on the kitchen table, my shaking hand sending it toppling and rolling, and crashing to the floor.
A high-pitched yelp and a scurry of claws on the stone flagged floor.
Two big, accusatory eyes stare out of a furry face from the corner of the kitchen where Jasper’s basket sits.
“I’m sorry, boy, I didn’t mean to scare you. This is all James’ fault. I was perfectly happy to go on my own. Well, not perfectly happy, but you know what I mean. I could — I can — get through the wedding without any help from him. Interfering little runt. Gavin and I are both adults, and we’ll both be there for Andrew and Marcus. I mean,” I say, as I clear away the mess and chuck the newspaper-wrapped broken bottle into the recycling, “just because Gavin’ll be taking his new boyfriend, it doesn’t mean I have to have somebody hanging off my arm, does it? It’s not some kind of pissing contest between us. We’re not teenagers, for God’s sake.”
I glare at Jasper, as though expecting him to answer, but all he does is whine, bury his nose in his basket and clamp his paws to either side of his head as though he wants to drown out my monologue. And why shouldn’t he, because he’s heard me drone on about Gavin for weeks on end.
But… Freddie’s smart, with more than a hint of sass, and he’s jaw-droppingly good looking. More than good looking. And young. I groan. No more than twenty-three, or twenty-four at a push, to my fifty-two. I’m old enough to be his dad.
“Everybody’ll think he’s some kind of toy boy, and I’ll be a laughing stock.” I mutter to nobody and nothing but the air. Even Jasper’s decided that sleep’s preferable to my ramblings.
No, the idea has to be quashed before it goes any further. I’ve got my dignity, sometimes it feels like all I’ve got, and I’m not going to squander it. It’s not Freddie, it’s me. I snort…it’s not you, it’s me… I’ll call, tell him that, on reflection…
“Oh, fuck.” I pull out another beer, to add to the three I’ve already had.
I will call him, but not quite yet, because first I need to track James down, as the sod hasn’t returned any of the messages I’ve left on his phone. And I’m going to damn well make sure he coughs up that five hundred he’s promised Freddie. Five hundredplus.
Determined and fortified, I head back to the living room where my mobile is, and jab speed dial. This time, James picks up before the second ring.
“Once you met him, I knew you’d see sense,” James drawls.
“And good evening to you. And yes, I have seen sense. I’m going on my own to the wedding, just as I always intended.”
