I shrug, trying to pretend it’s fine when really I’m contemplating how much better it would be to just turn into sand and blow away on the breeze. I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t know where it’s going, but my instincts tell me to scoot away. I can feel the muscles in my shoulders knotting. “I know plenty of lads who are fond without being unchaste.”
“But it’s clear you’re not those lads.” I’m not sure if he hears the way my breath hitches, but he adds quickly, “Which is fine. Who gives a fig for chastity?” He laughs at his own joke, glancing over at me like he’s hoping I might join in. I don’t, but I wonder suddenly if this is what it’s meant to be like, with a father and a son and a first real love. I can’t imagine what this conversation would have been like with my actual father. Or rather, I can, because we had variations on it, but it makes me want to put my hands up. Instead, I clench them against the knees of my trousers and take a breath before forcing myself to relax. Let my hands fall loose.
Trust him.
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Scipio clears his throat into his fist, then continues, “I wouldn’t have come in at all, but I could hear things crashing and something about blood and there were puddles all over the stairs.”
“We were swimming. And wet. But not wet as in—it was water—and then I cut my head
because—you know what, it doesn’t matter.”
Scipio runs a hand over his beard, then stretches his legs out straight in front of him. “You could have told me. I know it’s been chaotic, but we could have given you two some time to yourselves.”
I laugh—one short, humorless burst. “What would I have said—could you vacate the
apartments for a while so Percy and I can engage in illegal activities?”
“Not illegal.”
“They are where I come from.” I shake my head, staring down at my feet. “I’ve taken too many hits to brave that.”
“Then maybe I should have said it to you sooner—you needn’t hide around us. I’m sorry you ever felt you had to. And that the world makes you feel as though you have to.” I finally manage to look up at him, and he smiles. I almost start to cry. Perhaps he senses it, for he claps a hand upon my shoulder brusquely, then stands. “I’m walking Miss Montague down to the ship for breakfast. She’s quite fairly not interested in being here. I’d suggest you take it easy for a bit.
The room is cleaned up, if you want to go back to bed.”
“I’m just going to sit here for a bit, I think.”
“Suit yourself.”
Scipio leaves me, and a few minutes later, I hear the front door open and shut. When
someone sits down beside me again, I assume it’s Felicity back to check on my progress before she leaves until I feel the light touch on my back and Percy says, “Still bleeding?”
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“No. Can you see out of both eyes?”
“Indeed I can. Look at us, healing rapidly.”
I raise my head so I can rest my cheek on his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head. We still for a moment, the courtyard quiet but for the mumbling of the waves below us and the wind sighing through the trees. The island in conversation with itself.
“This was a disaster,” I murmur.
I expect he’ll deny it or say something cheerful to make me feel better, but instead he says,
“Yes. It was a disaster.”
I let out a short laugh of shock.
“But aside from all the disastrous elements,” he goes on, “I was having a rather good time.”
“Really?”
“Well, there were figs.”
I raise my head, and he turns to me. “I love you,” I say quietly. “You know that?”
“And I you, my darling boy.” He nestles his head against mine and takes a deep breath, then asks, “Did Scipio go?”
“I think so.”
“Felicity’s gone too.”
I raise my head. “Percy Newton. Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
“I’m suggesting . . .” He looks over at me, his smile somehow both a little shy and a little wicked, and that smile alone, it’s enough. It’s so much more than enough. “It’s never going to be perfect.”
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Document Outline
GentlemensGuidetoGettingLucky_Cover
mktg_GGTGL_PreorderStory_final MS_9-24-18