Page 90 of Take My Breath Away
“Jimbo!”
The stocky young guy almost throws himself at James, who laughs and gives him a big hug.
I hang back a little and watch the two cousins.
Cosmo’s around my age, maybe a little older, and the family resemblance isn’t striking. Or not until Cosmo unwinds himself from James and lets his attention fall on me. It’s the eyes. The same moss green, feline and assessing. His smile, when it comes which probably only takes a second or two but feels like hours, is bright and friendly.
“And you must be Jerry?” He sticks out his hand for me to shake.
“Nearly. It’s Perry.” It’s a common mistake people make and I’m used to it, and Cosmo’s wince followed by a sheepish smile is enough for me to know it’s a genuine oversight.
“I’ve already had a couple of cocktails,” he says, by way of an explanation.
“A couple?” James quirks his brow, at the same time he shrugs off his coat.
Cosmo pouts and tries to look put out. “I’m allowed because it’s Christmas.”
It isn’t, it’s a few weeks off yet, but I’m getting the impression Cosmo doesn’t need excuses for a party.
“Drinks and food are in the kitchen.” He takes my and James’ coats and stashes them in a wall cupboard already overflowing, before disappearing into what looks like the fairy light lit living room, where dance music’s playing.
“Jimbo?” I say to James.
He rolls his eyes, but his smile’s fond. “He’s always called me that, ever since he was a young kid. I’ve never broken him of the habit and never will. Come on, let’s get a drink.”
We dodge our way through the press of bodies. It’s noisy and everybody seems to be well on the way to being drunk, but that’s not surprising as we’re late by a couple or more hours as James got caught up on a work call he couldn’t get out of.
“There’s enough stuff here to open up his own cocktail bar.” I look at the array of bottles, some containing neon hued liquid, many of which I’ve not heard of.
“I think I’ll settle for a glass of wine. You too?” He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white.
“A bit too early to say Happy Christmas, whatever Cosmo says. Cheers.” James chinks his glass to mine.
I give him a cheery smile, but to be honest it doesn’t feel very cheery. He could have saidto usbut he didn’t. He hasn’t said that for a little while, certainly not since he returned from the leaving party he went to a week ago. In fact, it feels like he’s not said very much to me at all since then, but I guess that’s hardly surprising since I’ve barely seen him.
He’s spent long hours at work, and we’ve reverted to how it was when I first moved in, with me leaving a note about dinner before I’ve made my way to the bed we’re sharing. I’m asleep before he comes home, and he’s gone before I wake up. At times, I’ve even wondered whether he’s come to bed with me at all.
Tonight, at this party where I know nobody, is the most I’ve seen of him in the last few days. He’s insisted on coming, but I’ve the creeping feeling it’s been as much to do with us not spending the time together, just the two of us, as it is about wanting to come for his cousin. We’re out of kilter suddenly, and he’s not giving me the chance to find out why.
“Do you know anybody here?” I ask, looking out over the throng in the kitchen. Cosmo must have a varied group of friends. Men and women of all ages, and all of them shouting over the noise, which has got louder.
“There are a few I recognise.”
I turn to look at James. He sounds distracted, and he’s not looking at me, but at the other guests. His gaze is intense as though he’s looking out for someone in particular and I look, too, to see if I can pick out whoever it is. Somebody he knows well, perhaps, an old friend, an old—
I look away, not wanting to know.
The table’s within reach, and it looks like the remains of a battle. A few cocktail sausages are scattered on a plate and I reach out for one, but the thought of it makes my stomach turn over, and I let my hand fall to my side.
“Perry?”
James’ voice is warmer than before, and I instinctively turn to face him. He’s smiling and he’s studying me, not in his cool and inscrutable way, but in a way I’ve not seen before, something I can’t put my finger on, something indecipherable.
“What?” I croak.
“Just this.”
He plucks my glass from my hand and places it along with his own on the table. Cupping my face between his palms, like he’s done so many times before, and as though I’m something precious and worthy of reverence, he tilts my face up and lays a soft kiss on my lips.
