Page 72 of Out of the Shadows
Next to the older groom is the guy who can only be Cosmo’s relative. Brother? He’s not mentioned a brother, or indeed talked about his family other than the one acerbic comment he made about his father. Possibly a cousin, but probably an uncle. In this photograph, the guy’s watchfulness is nowhere to be seen and like Cosmo himself, he looks wildly happy.
“Oh my god, that was such a great day.”
I jump, because I’ve been so immersed in the photographs I’ve not heard Cosmo return.
He stands next to me, looking at the photo with a fond smile on his face as he clutches a couple of bottles of milk.
“So you’ve finally met Freddie. Or kind of.”
Of course… Freddie, the man who’s more like a brother. The knot in my stomach loosens.
“And that’s his husband Elliot. It’s on their wedding day, obviously. I was Freddie’s best man and my cousin Jimbo was Elliot’s.”
“Jimbo?” The name in the book.
Cosmo laughs. “It’s what I’ve always called him, but his name’s really James. He’s an annoying sod, so bloody infuriating.”
Annoying and infuriating. It’s hard to keep a straight face.
A few minutes later we’re on the sofa. The room’s comfortable and cosy and feels a lot more homely and lived in than my living room, or indeed the whole of my house. Or, maybe, it’s just because I’m with Cosmo. I slip down on the sofa and Cosmo does the same, as we huddle up against each other. Looping an arm around his shoulders, I pull him in closer
“That’s nice,” he murmurs, as he burrows into me.
Just the two of us, away from the world’s prying gaze, this feels right and natural, and something I should have been doing long ago if only I’d have had the courage. We don’t say anything, and I’m more than happy with that. The only sound in the room is a distant hum of traffic, but it’s muted and doesn’t intrude.
Cosmo shifts and I shift with him, our bodies accommodating each other. His head is half on my shoulder and half on my chest, and he flings one leg over mine, anchoring me down. I kiss the top of his head, more than happy for him to anchor me in place. Absently, I run my fingers through his thick, dark, silky soft hair.
It’s been a long and hard week, just like every week, and I close my eyes.
Lying back like this, on the sofa with my arms wrapped around Cosmo, is just reward. He says something, and I open my eyes, ready to answer, but before I can he says something else. It’s no more than a mumble and I realise he’s fallen asleep in my arms. His breathing is regular and steady, and I smile. I’m not the only one who works hard.
I peer down at him. Yes, he’s fast asleep and that means bed for one reason only. I ease myself away from him and he mutters something, a frown scrunching his forehead as he tries to hold me back. It’s just sleep, it means nothing. I could just as well be a pillow that’s being taken away, but the fact that he wants to hold on to me and doesn’t want me to let him go fills me with warmth and I find myself blinking away my blurry, misty vision. His brow smooths as he settles, and the muscles in his face relax. He looks not so much younger, but vulnerable, and open, all his snark and cynicism, all his watchfulness, smoothed away.
“Cosmo?” I rub his arm to ease him back to wakefulness, not shaking him, not dragging him out from dark, warm, safe place he’s in.
His eyes blink open, big and green, and for the first time I notice their little golden flecks, reminding me of woodland where the deep green of summer is surrendering itself to autumn gold.
He pushes himself up to sitting. Looking around and blinking again his gaze settles on me, and he gives me a sheepish grin.
“So much for wanting to have frantic monkey sex in the kitchen. I didn’t even make it through the whole of my coffee and my second Hobnob.” He rubs his eyes before scrubbing his fingers through his hair.
“I think you need to go to bed.”
“With you. You are staying tonight, aren’t you?” Still fuzzy and unguarded from his brief sleep, there’s doubt in his voice and shadow in his eyes, and for a moment I wonder how many times he’s asked that question only to be denied. I won’t add my name to the list.
“Of course I am.”
I hold my hand out to him and his smile’s warm and soft but there’s relief there too, relief that somebody hasn’t said no before getting up and leaving.
Cosmo places his hand in mine and I heft him up. He’s asleep as much as he’s awake; he wobbles for a second, and I’m glad I’m here to hold him steady. He leads the way through the house and up the stairs, still holding tight to my hand as we make our way to the bedroom, switching the lights off as we go.
