Read The Best Man: Part Two for Free Online Page B

“Cooking’s a bit of an overstatement.”
    Connor comes up behind Noah and places a kiss on the side of his neck. “Who knew you’d be the one to domesticate big, bad Patrick Walsh.”
    Noah snorts. “There’s nothing big or bad about him.”
    “Uh oh,” says Connor to Patrick. “He’s seen through your bullshit. You’re losing your touch.”
    “Well fuck me,” Patrick says mildly, too busy making the perfect meatball to react any further to Connor’s teasing.
    Noah suddenly feels claustrophobic here in this little kitchen, with Patrick and his dexterous hands moulding the meat on one side, Connor crowding in close behind. “Shut up the pair of you and get out of my kitchen,” he says, and Patrick casts him a woeful look.
    “But…I was helping.”
    “And now you’re just in the way,” Noah says, flapping his hands at the pair of them to get them out.
    Patrick glares at Connor. “You ruin all the fun.”
    Noah makes dinner while Connor and Patrick watch football, like the manly men they think they are, and after they sit and eat and have too much wine. Patrick does the dishes while Noah sits at the breakfast bar and talks to him, Connor vanishing like he always does when the topic of household chores presents itself, and then they put on a film and the three of them squash onto the couch to watch it.
    Connor takes his hand halfway through the movie, but it’s Patrick’s arm brushing against his on the other side that makes his tummy flip, and he doesn’t pay much attention to the film, his mind toiling with confusion.
    * * * * *
    Christmas comes and goes.
    He goes with Lenny to the tux fitting on the Friday, and then they have lunch together, and he spends the evening putting up Christmas decorations alone with Patrick. He puts on festive music, which Patrick grumbles about, but he spends ages manipulating the branches of the tree into the correct angles, so Noah doesn’t think he’s as averse to the holiday as he makes out. They hang lights around the tree and then tinsel and balls, and Noah takes a picture of Patrick placing the star on top. He gets up on a chair after to hang garlands around the room, Patrick holding his waist the whole time to ensure he doesn’t fall, giving him the odd inappropriate tickle to make him jolt and nearly slip, laughing each time he steadies him.
    Connor doesn’t come home until late and when he does, he goes straight to bed, barely commenting on the decorations. Patrick and Noah sit up and watch telly and eat mince pies, then Patrick gets out a deck of cards and tries to teach Noah how to cheat at poker. It dissolves into Patrick calling him useless, and then Noah’s throwing all the cards at him in mock offense, and then he’s on the floor sheepishly picking them up, crawling around; he feels Patrick’s eyes on him and there’s a chance he might stick his bum out a bit more, curve his back low like a bow. When he looks back at Patrick over his shoulder, his eyes are dark, and they’re pinned on him.
    They get out another bottle of wine and they stick on Elf because Patrick’s never seen it and Noah thinks that’s a tragedy, and it’s three in the morning before Noah’s dozing off, vaguely aware of Patrick tucking a blanket around him and brushing fingers through his hair, before switching the TV off and going to bed.
    He wakes up much later in solitude and darkness, teeth chattering with cold. The surface beneath him is hard like stone, unforgiving against his bones. He tries to sit up but he can't get the leverage, can't get his hands on the ground to push because they’re tied, trapped behind his back. Panic floods him, and the adrenaline aids him in rolling to his side and lifting up on one strained elbow. He can’t see much, but he can see the sharp glint of metal bars surrounding him on all sides and above.
    He’s in a cage, and he can’t move.
    A whimper escapes him, and then he freezes when footsteps echo in the silence. He sits there