Page 37 of In at the Deep End

It was strange how quickly life changed things. A week ago Owen had been nothing but a name his parents mentioned. Now Matt found himself anticipating seeing him, not because of the garden, or the furniture, or the shopping trips, but because every time they talked he came away having learned something new.

Somehow, Owen had become the most interesting part of his day.

Owen carried the tray containing the teapot and associated paraphernalia out onto the patio. Matt stood at the top of the steps, a piece of A4 paper in one hand, staring at the garden.

Owen couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something different about Matt this morning. He seemed quieter, more thoughtful.

Maybe it’s the dissertation. Or something else entirely.

“Tea,” he called out as he picked up the pot.

Matt turned. “Perfect.” He descended the steps to join Owen. His lips twitched. “No biscuits this time? Oh, I get it. They were a lure to get me to work for you.”

Owen snorted. “No biscuits because we ate them all. I need to go shopping.” He pulled out a chair and sat, the mug in both hands.

Matt placed the sheet on the table, then poured himself some tea.

Owen glanced at it. “Is this your plan for the garden?”

He sighed. “It’s supposed to be, but it’s not coming. Maybe I’m overthinking.”

“Well, if you want to stop thinking about the outdoors for a while, I have a pile of flat packs indoors that are crying out to be assembled. And if you leave me to do it, they’ll all collapse within five minutes.”

Matt chuckled. “Okay, an indoor day it is.” He inhaled the aroma of the tea, his smile fading.

Owen studied him for a second.

Say something.

He cleared his throat. “Look… we’ve only known each other a week, but I can tell something’s up. You don’t have to tell me, but if there’s anything I can do…”

Matt’s eyes were warm. “Thanks. I appreciate that. And no, there’s nothing you can do.” He paused. “Remember I talked about my granddad?” Owen nodded. “Well, it seems it’s finally hospice time. And my dad asked me again if I wanted to visit him.”

Owen couldn’t help himself. He reached across the table and covered Matt’s hand with his own. “Hey. I’ve been where you are. I know it’s tough. So if you need a shoulder to lean on? I’m your man.”

He shuddered out a breath. “Thank you.” Matt stared out over the garden. “This is so peaceful.” He huffed. “I’m going to miss that next week.”

Owen blinked. “Something I should know about?”

He chuckled. “We’re about to be invaded by my brother Zach, his heavily pregnant wife Beth, and their little tornado, Jamie. So neither your garden nor my dissertation will get a look-in.” He let out a sigh. “I love them, don’t get me wrong, but whenever they visit, they bring chaos, noise—especially noise. Because what three-year-old doesn’t make a ton of noise?”

“If you ever want a quiet place to work…” He pointed to the black barn at the far end of the garden. “Use it whenever you want.” The words were out of his mouth before Owen could take them back.

Matt gaped at him. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “There’s now a couch that’s reasonably comfortable, a desk and chair, a little kitchen… and yes, even a shower room. And apart from when I finally get around to throwing the best housewarming party South Drive has ever seen or will ever see, it’s yours.”

Matt swallowed, and only then did Owen realise he was still holding Matt’s hand.

Too long.

Heat crept up the back of his neck as he withdrew.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “Does that work?”

Matt’s face lit up. “I’d like that.”

Owen’s chest loosened.