Colton sighed. He knew he was partly the cause of Joel’s unhappiness, and that he was about to make a lot of other people unhappy too with what he was proposing. But he wasn’t going to think about that right now. When it came to Joel and Flora … well. He had dated a lot of different people down the years, and had come to some conclusions: one, that there was no single person for everyone; and two, if you found someone you were crazy about, who liked you in return, you were the luckiest goddam son of a bitch in the world. He’d spent plenty of time in love with people who only saw him as a friend, or were in denial about their own sexuality and feelings, or were simply wrong place wrong time.
Now he was in his mid-forties, he knew: waiting for what you wanted, waiting for something perfect, was a disaster. It would never work. You had to jump. If you jumped and it went wrong, well, that was that. You could fix it. But if you wouldn’t commit, wouldn’t settle, kept waiting for the next thing, the thing that would take absolutely no effort, that would be incredibly easy. Well. That was not going to happen.
Fintan had made a meal, but Colton shook his head. ‘Neh,’ he said. ‘I’m not hungry. I think I want to stretch my legs, shake off my jet lag, rebalance my melatonin, you know?’
Fintan did not know, as he rarely went anywhere, but he nodded regardless. ‘Sure,’ he said.
‘Let’s walk one of those stray dogs you always have,’ said Colton.
‘They’re not strays!’ said Fintan. ‘They’re loyal working dogs! Who happen to have a lot of freedom.’
This was true. Bramble was in the habit of ambling down the high street to go and visit the Seaside Kitchen from time to time. Residents and visitors had got used to him marching down the street, and Hamish had trained him to pick up the paper and bring it back to the farmhouse, so everyone was happy with the arrangement – except for Bramble, who smelled all sorts of awesome things around Flora, but was never given any of them. All the cuddles he got en route kind of made up for it, but not entirely. However, he was a wise dog, and lived permanently in hope.
‘Whatever,’ said Colton. He was just so happy, so pleased to be back on the island again, and it made Fintan happy just to look at him.
‘So, apart from your miserable lawyer, how was New York?’
‘Shithole,’ said Colton. ‘Too hot and sticky and I hated it. Can’t breathe there. LA was even worse.’
‘I brought you something.’
‘Is it cheese?’
‘Colton!’ said Fintan. ‘Shut up!’
‘I love your cheese,’ said Colton. ‘I’m just saying.’
There was a silence as they headed automatically through the town to park up at the Endless.
‘So,’ said Colton.
‘It’s not cheese!’
‘Okay, so what is it?’
‘I forgot it,’ said Fintan sullenly.
Colton sniffed in the car. ‘Stop it.’
‘It’s just … it smells a bit like …’
‘This car always smells like cheese.’
‘Well, that’s true. You could still surprise me. Soft cheese? Blue? Hard?’
‘Shut up!’
‘Because I got something quite hard for you …’
They got out of the car, grinning, and sure enough, there was Bramble, trotting up the high street, the newspaper between his teeth.
‘Good timing,’ said Fintan, patting him and retrieving it.
‘He maybe smelled the new cheese,’ said Colton.
‘Shut up about cheese!’
They set out. It was evening, but the sky still looked like a studio set: a blue that faded to white, or rather, to a colour you couldn’t quite put your finger on, a little like Flora’s hair, something that faded into itself, that was hard to look at.
Near the harbourside, the beach was busy with brave toddlers paddling in the shallow freezing water, little crab-catchers with their nets and fishermen on the jetty. (There weren’t so many fish close in to shore; it was more of an excuse to get out of the house on a fine evening, and chat to their companions and share a nip or two in friendly silence than a genuine activity.) But as they walked on, the weather changed: the sun swept out again and they both took off their shoes, letting their feet sink into the soft, warming sand, the crowds enjoying the beauty of the evening fall behind them and, sheltered from the wind by the rock behind, they felt the sun on their necks and the soothing noise of the waves and little more.
After a few hundred metres, Colton stopped, a serious look on his face.
‘Okay,’ said Fintan. ‘Okay, it was cheese. Sorry.’
Colton shook his head. ‘I don’t need any gifts from you,’ he said, rubbing his greying goatee.
‘I know,’ said Fintan stubbornly. ‘That’s why I wanted to give you something anyway. Nobody ever does. They just assume you have everything.’
Colton blinked, surprised. It was true. In his life, Fintan was practically the only person who as much as bought him a drink. He was just so used to paying all the bills it hadn’t even occurred to him. He smiled to himself. If he’d had a moment’s doubt, it had just been assuaged.
He glanced around. Some sea peeries were circling, far out over the waves, and a heron was lifting off from the rocks. Apart from that, they were completely unobserved, at the far end of the Endless Beach. It was a perfect evening. Colton held his breath and it felt for a second that everything except the waves was still – everything in the entire world. Time was not moving on, the world was standing in place and nothing had changed or ever would, which meant that either you could think that nothing was particularly important – or everything was.
Colton dropped down on one knee.
Fintan’s mouth dropped open.
‘What … what are you doing?’ he said, glancing round in case anyone was behind them. Colton suddenly felt a bolt of fear. Had he completely misjudged the situation? Fintan had spoken about men in the past, but nothing remotely serious; he hadn’t even come out until last year. Was it possible that he was just practice for the younger man? Before he moved on? He started to panic. Colton was not traditionally one of life’s panickers.
Fintan was still staring at him. Then, thank God, to the mournful calling of the peerie above, he bit his lip, and tried to stop a smile of pure delight spreading across his face.
‘Fintan MacKenzie,’ Colton said slowly. ‘I have never done this before, and seriously I never want to do it again as I am getting old and my knees can’t really take it, and the sand is actually quite wet when you get down here.’
Fintan’s hand had flown to his mouth.
‘But I can’t imagine being happier with anyone, anywhere on earth, than I am with you. And your …’
Bramble thought they were playing a game. He came and sat down next to Colton on the sand and was now pawing him, thinking he was going to throw something for him. Colton giggled. ‘Stop it, Bramble!’
Bramble threw his paws over his arms.
‘Aw, for goodness’ sake, Bramble. I don’t want to marry you.’
Fintan gasped audibly.
‘Shit, what did you think I was doing down here?’ said Colton.
There was a pause.
‘Is that it?’ said Fintan finally.
‘What do you mean?’
‘My proposal. Is that it? You proposing to a dog instead of me?’
Bramble was now jumping up and down, licking Colton’s face delightedly.
‘Stop it!’ said Colton. ‘That’s it, I’m getting up. Hang on, I can’t get up until you give me an answer …’
‘I haven’t had a question!’
‘This is much more uncomfortable than it looks when people do it in the movies.’
‘Right, fine. Come on, Bramble,’ said Fintan.
‘No! Wait. Right. Okay. My darling. Baby. I … I adore you. Have done since the first time I met you, all sulky and a bit drunk.’
‘That’s very much me at my best,’ said Fintan.
‘And … and the rest of my life is going to be here. It is. I’ve decided. I’ve been, hell, everywhere. And nowhere is better than this. Fact. I want to be here, I want to be with you, and time … time. Well …’ He winced. ‘It’s always later than you think.’
Fintan smiled down at him. Bramble let his tongue loll out and panted from his exertions. Colton wobbled.
‘FINTAN! FOR FUCK’S SAKE!’
‘Okay, okay, okay. Yes! YES!’
Chapter Thirty-four
No sleep. Endless work. Nothing from Flora. Nothing from Colton except more work, of the worst kind.