Page 149 of In at the Deep End

“Wow.”

Owen joined him. “And one day, where we’re standing? That will go the same way.”

“Then who would live here?”

Owen’s smile held a trace of sadness. “Knowing how the story ends doesn’t make you want to put the book down.”

They headed back along the Terrace in silence. As they approached the main road, the level of traffic noise increased.

Matt slowed his pace. “I hope one day somebody talks about me the way you talk about Ben.”

Owen gazed at him. “What a lovely thing to say.” He took Matt’s hand in his. “You’d have liked him.”

“I wish I’d met him.”

They strolled along the Terrace, their fingers still laced, their shoulders brushing.

“I feel as if I’m walking through your memories.” Matt kept his gaze focused on the tarmac beneath his feet. “There’s so much of him here.” He paused. “I keep wondering whether I’m… intruding on those memories.” He wasn’t jealous of Ben. How could he be? Ben wasn’t an ex-boyfriend whose place he hoped to steal. He was the man Owen had built a life with. The man Owen still spoke about with quiet affection. The love of Owen’s life.

Matt wasn’t trying to become Ben. He wouldn’t have known where to begin.

He just hoped there might still be room for someone called Matt.

Owen stopped walking.

“Matt.” Owen let go of his hand so Matt had to look at him. “I’ve never wanted you to be Ben.”

Matt searched Owen’s face.

“I brought you here because you’re you.” Owen’s smile was gentle, his tone certain. “Not because I wanted to recreate anything.” Then he reclaimed Matt’s hand. “My memories of Ben don’t leave less room for you.”

Warmth surged through him.

Owen squeezed his fingers. “How about we go back to the Mouse, sit on the patio, and watch the sun go down?”

Matt smiled. “I’d like that.”

They walked on, still holding hands, stopping at the edge of the road as they waited for a gap in the traffic. The church bells were still peeling, a joyous sound that felt like the perfect accompaniment to Matt’s present mood. When they reached the inn, Owen led them through to the bar.

He turned to Matt. “I’m going to have a brandy. Is there anything you’d like?”

Matt thought about it for a second. “A rum and coke?” He grinned. “Dad caught me once helping myself to a glass one Christmas when we had a house full of relatives.”

“Aha. You were being sneaky.”

He gave Owen a look of mock outrage. “Me? Sneaky? Never.”

Owen addressed the man behind the bar and ordered their drinks. Then they walked out onto the patio where the sun was about to dip out of sight, the clouds hues of pinky-purple and gold. There was a bench tucked into an alcove, and they sat there, glasses in hand. Most of the people who’d been at the tables below them had gone. The swings were empty, and the bells had stopped. Only five or so cars remained in the car park.

Owen leaned back. “Can I ask you something?”

Matt smiled. “You’re always asking me something or other.”

He laughed. “Fair point.” He paused. “When you think back over this summer, do you have any regrets?”

Matt frowned. “Why would I have regrets?”

“I’ve dragged you into my world.” Owen shrugged. “You’ve met people you never expected to meet. Been to places you probably never imagined going. You came to that party…”