The Best Man: Part One (5 page)

“No, I just thought…” He trails off, not really sure how to word it.

Patrick gets it, his brows lifting. “You thought it was just the two of you?”

“Yeah.” He feels awkward, and he looks away from him, searching for someone to serve him a bloody drink. “But it’s fine though. I don’t mind.”

“Generous of you,” Patrick says dryly. There’s a heavy pause, and then: “I can leave you to it.”

The fact that he would walk away because Noah asked him to has Noah wanting him to stay. It’s a weird feeling, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. “No, seriously. Let me get you a drink.”

Patrick considers him. He seems to do that a lot—just stare at him, contemplate him, work him out, whatever. Noah doesn’t know what goes on in his mind. He wonders if he’ll ever find out.

“I’ll get them,” Patrick says a moment later. “Beer?”

Noah smiles and nods, goes to find a table, and watches in exasperation as the bartender immediately appears and serves Patrick, as if Noah hadn’t been waiting there for minutes before.

“That guy thinks he’s funny,” Patrick says as he puts the beers on the table and sits down. “He’s not.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, you get used to him.”

Patrick’s eyes are bright and warm on him as he takes a sip of his beer. “Nice to see your mood’s improved.”

“There was nothing wrong with my mood,” Noah says, though he’s pretty sure Patrick sees through the lie. “I was just a bit annoyed about something.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” But he does, because Patrick’s giving him that look again, the one that makes him want to open up. As long as he chooses his words carefully, there shouldn’t be a problem. “Well it’s just Connor, right.”

Patrick nods, silently gesturing him to continue.

“I get that he’s got loads of money and everything, but sometimes I just wish…”

“Go on.”

Noah sighs, lets it all out. “Found out today he’s paid for the next year of my best mate’s rent and college fees.”

Patrick doesn’t respond straight away. When he does, his tone is carefully measured. “He’s always been generous like that.”

“He doesn’t even know her,” Noah grumbles, staring moodily into his beer bottle. The irritation of it all is catching up on him now, as if speaking about it is allowing it to affect him.

Patrick ducks his head to catch Noah’s eye. “That’s not what’s bothering you about it though.”

“What?”

“He bought you your shop,” Patrick points out.

“Yeah…”

“And he bought you the flat you’re living in. Now he’s buying your friend’s life for her—”

Noah’s stomach twists painfully. “It isn’t like that, right.”

“He’s basically bought you a whole new world,” Patrick finishes, and there’s a dramatic note in his tone that makes Noah’s twisted stomach drop heavily into his gut.

“You make it sound like my life before him was really crap.”

Patrick takes another sip of his beer before responding. “Well how was it then?”

“Really crap,” Noah admits, a small laugh escaping him.

But he can’t deny the truth in Patrick’s words. Connor owns everything. He might have gifted Noah the shop, but it’s still in Connor’s name. As is the flat. And now Julie’s relying on him too. If anything went wrong, all of this would be ripped from beneath Noah’s feet. It’s a lot of pressure to manage, and sometimes he feels like he could suffocate with it.

“But it was simple,” he says now, and he has no idea why he’s confiding in Patrick when he’s pretty much the worst person to talk to about this. “I knew where I stood.”

“And you don’t now?”

Noah licks his lips. The weight in his stomach is melting into a kind of bleak nostalgia. “I didn’t have a lot, but it was mine.”

“You haven’t had a lot of time to think about this wedding, have you?” Patrick’s tone is softer all of a sudden, gentle. It scares Noah, and he rushes to answer.

“I do want to marry him,” he says firmly. “None of this has anything to do with me not wanting to marry him. I love him.”

“I love my car.” Patrick lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Doesn’t mean I’d want to be committed to it for the rest of my life. Never able to try out other cars.”

Noah stares at him, squints at him a little. “You’re weird.”

“I’m an acquired taste,” Patrick counters, and Noah thinks it’s probably the truest thing he’s said so far. He’s so distracted by the smile they share that he doesn’t notice Connor arriving.

“Hey,” says Connor, joining them at the table and shrugging off his heavy winter coat. “Sorry I’m late.”

Noah smiles at him. “It’s fine.” He accepts the kiss Connor places on the corner of his mouth and then pushes back from the table. “I’ll get you a drink.”

He comes back to the table with a pint for Connor to find them both laughing. He raises his eyebrows at them as he sits, silently asking them to share the joke.

“We were just talking about going out this weekend,” Connor says. He claps Patrick on the shoulder. “Been ages, ain’t it, fella?”

“Yeah.”

“Me and Patrick have had some mental nights in our time.”

“Bet you have,” Noah says dryly.

Patrick’s mouth curves into a wry smirk. “You don’t wanna scare the lad away, Connor.”

“Yeah,” says Noah. “I’m gonna choose not to know the details, thanks.”

“Good, because I can’t remember half of ‘em.” Connor laughs again, shares a look with Patrick that tells Noah he
really
doesn’t want to know. “So Saturday? We’re all free?”

Patrick wipes a thumb over his lip after taking a sip of beer. “Where’re we going?”

“Black Saddle?” says Connor. “It’s a gay bar.”

“Of course it is.” Patrick rolls his eyes.

Noah gives him a quiet smile that Patrick catches, his eyes twinkling. Noah can’t imagine him in a gay bar, drinking and flirting with the boys, letting his hair down. He seems more like the smoking room and whiskey type, an air of class shrouding him. But then Connor doesn’t look like the type for gay bars either, and that was where Noah had met him. “It’s in the city,” he tells Patrick now. “Only opened a few weeks ago.”

Connor and Patrick start talking about a night they had years ago, one that ended in Patrick going missing for three hours and Connor throwing up in a drag queen’s shoes. It doesn’t sound all that amazing to Noah, but it has them laughing and sharing in-jokes, so lost in memory together that Noah ends up pulling out his phone, flicking through the notes he’s made about the wedding, things he still needs to do.

“When are you gonna give the final numbers to that caterer?” Connor asks him suddenly, and Noah sighs. They’ve been over this.

“That caterer’s name is Lenny and he’s one of my best friends,” he states levelly. “My best man.”

Connor waves a hand, dismissive. “You know what I mean.”

It gets his back up, Connor’s inability to take an interest in Lenny, or Julie, or anyone important to him. Noah’s making an effort with
his
best friend, isn’t he? Paying him some attention? Perhaps more than Connor would like, if Noah’s going to be completely honest, but it’s beside the point. If Connor asked him to go to each and every one of his hundreds of friends and get to know them, Noah would. All Noah asks is that Connor remember the name of his best man. Just his name. He doesn’t think it’s that much to ask.

“He’s not back off holiday until next week anyway,” he says, his earlier mood returning. And he can’t sit here and pretend he’s completely fine about things now. “Speaking of best friends,” he says slowly, and he can see Patrick’s look of warning out the corner of his eye, trying to tell him not to do this now. Noah ignores him. “Why are you giving Julie money?”

Connor blinks at him. “I didn’t.” His tone is steady, calm. “I gave her landlord and college money. You said she was struggling.”

“’Scuse me,” says Patrick awkwardly, getting up suddenly and walking away.

“She is,” Noah says. He doesn’t care about Patrick right now, how uncomfortable this threat of a domestic might be for him. He cares about Connor, and how sometimes he makes Noah feel like less of an equal. “I mean, she was. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I thought you’d be happy.” He’s firmer now, an edge of challenge in his voice.

“You don’t even know her, Connor.”

“I know she’s your best friend.”

“Exactly. She’s
my
friend. So if she’s in trouble, I’ll help her, not you.”

“You tried that, remember?” Connor snaps, his eyes lighting up with aggression. “Then you had to grovel to me for a handout.” He snaps his mouth shut as soon as the words leave him, realisation leaking into his expression and making him pale. His eyes speak of apology now, and he lowers his voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” It might have been a slip of the tongue, but there’s truth in it, and Noah feels the heat of humiliation crawling up his neck. “It’s just not nice having your generosity thrown back in your face.”

Noah stares at him, tries to see it from Connor’s point of view, remembers Patrick’s words from earlier. Connor
was
being generous, however misguided, but that doesn’t mean Noah has to always like it, always be grateful. He’s not a pet, and he’s not a trophy, and he has his pride.

But he’s also not stupid, and he’s painfully aware that his pride could be his downfall.

“Let’s just forget it,” he says heavily.

Connor sighs with relief. “C’mere,” he says, getting a hand on the back of Noah’s head and pulling him in for a kiss. He’s smiling after, nuzzles his nose against Noah’s. “I’ll get another round in.”

He goes to the bar, leaving Noah to sit and stew and try to get over it in the next two minutes. Patrick comes back immediately, as if he’d not gone far, stayed nearby and observed. It makes Noah uncomfortable, knowing that Patrick might have just witnessed a crack in his relationship, a crack he tries so hard to paste over.

“Don’t be so hard on him.”

Noah huffs. “Mind your own business.”

“The guy’s got more money than sense, all right?” He puts a hand on Noah’s shoulder, grips it, a gesture of consolation. “He doesn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“If he would just think sometimes rather than being so impulsive.”

He feels Patrick’s eyes on the side of his face, and his hand on his shoulder, and the silence in this pause makes his skin itch. Then Patrick dips a finger under Noah’s chin, lifts his face to look him in the eye. His expression doesn’t speak of pity, or irritation at Noah mouthing off about his best friend.

It speaks of concern, and an edge of conflict.

“I genuinely think he wants to make you happy, Noah.”

It’s like his words are saying one thing but his eyes another, and Noah can’t work him out, wishes he could peel open his skull and climb inside and see how his brain works, how he puts things together, what he thinks when he looks at Noah, and at Connor, and the imbalance of their relationship.

But mostly what he thinks of him. Just him.

Patrick still has his hand on Noah’s face when Connor returns, and he snatches it away as if scalded.

* * * * *

Noah gets over it enough to make love to Connor that night. It’s done now, this thing with Julie, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Wouldn’t want to change it now anyway, not selfish enough to ruin Julie’s world just so he can get a foot up in this partnership. He’s picking his battles, and he has another one ready to replace it.

He draws patterns into Connor’s palm with his finger as he lays spooned with him, the naked heat of Connor pressed all along his back and thighs. There’s a sated quiet blanketing them, and while he’s loath to disturb the peace, this is the best time to twist Connor’s brain to his way of thinking—he’s always the most agreeable after sex.

“I was thinking of bringing Ron into the business.”

Connor’s steady breathing stops, and the wall of relaxation pressed against Noah’s back tenses up. “What?”

“He’s practically my partner anyway,” Noah says, keeps his tone soft and neutral, avoids anything confrontational. “I couldn’t run the place without him.”

“So you just want to give him a stake of the business?”

“Yeah. It makes sense.”

Connor rolls away from him and onto his back. “It doesn’t make any sense, Noah,” he says, and when Noah turns, it’s to find him glaring up at the ceiling. “You don’t sign away half your business to an employee just because he does a good job.”

“But he deserves it,” Noah coaxes. “He’s been there since the day we opened.”

Connor looks over at him, his expression incredulous. “So?”

Noah narrows his eyes at Connor’s tone. “The place is as much his as it is mine. He does everything. He even chose the bloody colour on the walls.”

It makes perfect sense to Noah. Maybe not from a business perspective, but he’s not talking business here. He’s talking about doing the right thing, recognising loyalty and dedication from someone who didn’t have to give his all to something that wasn’t his, that would garner him no profit.