Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) (33 page)

“Yes, it’s so sad. That’s your home district with the highest rates, right?”

“Aye. Once again, Shettleston wins Worst Place Ever.”

After discussing how to organize the data, then commiserating on their upcoming Probability exam, they hung up. Robert went to the window and stared in the direction of the East End, though he could barely see past the next street through the icy snow pelting the glass. He knew he should study, but a plan was forming in his head. It was a crazy, last-resort solution, but a solution nonetheless.

Robert put his hand to the cold window pane and whispered, “I won’t abandon you.”

T
HE
DOUBLE
DATE
was John’s idea. Part of Liam had wanted to crawl into bed with Robert for the entirety of Saturday night—especially after the weather had kept them apart for six days—but he rather liked the idea of going out as a couple, doing couple-y things. Might as well enjoy it while they could.

“I never knew Glaswegians were capable of something so tasteful,” Liam said.

Fergus squinted at the glowing Ferris wheel and jangling carousel before them. “I guess tastefulness is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Do they allow colored lights where you come from?” John asked his fiancé. “Or by law must they all be white and draped with pine?”

With the last remnants of the weather bomb behind them, everyone in Glasgow seemed to be at George Square on this cold, clear night. For the holiday season, the city’s favorite mass-gathering place had added an ice-skating rink, carnival rides, and roughly a million food stalls—all garnished with enough Christmas lights to be seen from space.

“This way to the doughnuts.” John led them around the edge of the glittering square. “I know we’ve not had dinner yet, but I need emergency sugar therapy after the day we’ve had.”

“What happened?” Robert asked.

“Our wedding planner quit,” Fergus said. “Said she took on too many same-sex clients at once and now she’s overwhelmed for Hogmanay.”

“So she’s ditching clients in reverse order of when she booked them,” John said. “We were her newest, so we were first to go.”

“Are you changing the date, then?” Liam asked.
To “never,” for instance?

“Even if we wanted to—which we don’t,” John said, “there’s too much publicity. Our fans and the media expect us to marry on the first day of same-sex weddings.” He grimaced at the long queue for the doughnut stall. “I cannae be arsed with all this. I’ve got exams next week.”

“I told you I’d sort it,” Fergus said. “Look, we have the celebrant and witnesses—and on Tuesday, we’ll file for the license. Legally that’s all we need.”

“We’ve nae venue,” John told Robert and Liam, “cos our planner accidentally double-booked us at the hall.” His eyes went round with panic, making Liam want to sit him down with a stiff drink. “Which means nae food! Guests expect food. And music. And a photographer. And—”

“Hang on,” Robert said. “I know a guy who might be able to help. His mum’s a wedding planner, so he’s got connections. He’s keen to do same-sex weddings on his own, since she won’t.”

“Why does he care?” Liam asked.

Robert met his eyes. “Cos he’s gay.”

“And how did you meet him?” Liam winced inwardly at his own jealousy.

John grabbed Robert’s arm. “I don’t care if you met him in a Turkish prison. I want to talk to him—now.”

Robert pulled out his phone, then glanced at the speaker blasting music above their heads. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

He and John hurried off toward the front entrance of the Millennium Hotel. Liam and Fergus followed at a more leisurely pace.

“He’s losing it,” Fergus said. “This debacle on top of exams, plus the usual holiday stress. It’s too much.”

“Then postpone,” Liam said, “at least until after the holidays. Hogmanay’s the most mental day of the year in Scotland. Everywhere’s crowded. Everyone’s up to their ears. I know it’s brilliant publicity to marry on the first day you can, but it’s turned your lives upside down.”

“John and I aren’t doing this for publicity’s sake. We’re doing it because we want to marry as soon as possible. Because it’s romantic.”

“Wouldn’t it be more romantic to do it out of the spotlight? Perhaps in March. Or in the year 2020.”

Fergus stopped short and stared at him. “You don’t think we should marry at all, do you?”

Uh-oh.
Liam had gone too far with the year 2020 comment. He looked away. “It’s not my business.”

“It
is
your business. You’re my best lad.”

That’s not even a thing!
Liam wanted to shout. “Do you really want my opinion?”

Fergus hesitated, then nodded. “Go on.”

Liam shifted his feet to brace himself. “I think you’re too young, and you barely know each other, and it’ll all end in tears.”

Fergus breathed in slowly, nostrils flaring. “Would you like me to release you as best lad?” he asked in a low voice. “I’ll do it, if you’re not happy for me.”

“I
am
happy. John’s a good man and he’s good for you. After Evan left, I thought I’d never see you smile again. Now you’re like a big ginger light bulb, always glowing. Please, don’t ruin that happiness by getting married.”

Fergus started to retort, then glanced past Liam and held his tongue.

Liam turned to see Robert and John standing behind him. By the looks on their faces, they’d heard every word he’d just said.

= = =

“‘Ruin’?” John’s eyes shot missiles at Liam. “Did you say ‘ruin’?”

Robert knew he had to steer the conversation away before the two lads had a square go in the middle of the Christmas chaos. “We spoke to my friend the wedding planner,” he told Fergus.

“Oh, good.” Fergus looked relieved to avoid conflict, even as he sent Liam another glare. “What’d he say?”

John didn’t answer, his eyes locked with Liam’s like they were two tomcats claiming the same territory. Robert stepped between them and said, “Ben can meet with you tomorrow. He’s got connections with caterers who might be able to help last-minute if you’re not picky about food. Like if you don’t need gluten-free options or anything.” He turned to John. “Right?”

John took a deep breath, the tension dissipating now that Robert was blocking his view of Liam. “Aye, I told him I’m on a strict all-gluten diet.”

“Okay, then.” Fergus slid his hands into his coat pockets. “Ferris wheel?”

Robert wasn’t sure that trapping the four of them in a box for the entirety of a carnival ride was the best idea—though it seemed an interesting concept for a reality show—but he nodded and went along.

They made small talk as they queued up for the wheel, then fell silent as they filed into the basket and the attendant clanged the door shut.

But the moment they began to move, Fergus said, “Liam, I refuse to take this personally. I know your reaction is because your parents married young and it didn’t work out, so—”

“It’s not about me,” Liam snapped. “It’s about statistics. Tell him, Rabbie. Tell him how often people get divorced when they marry young.”

“I don’t know every stat in the world.” Robert peered over the edge of the basket, which had stopped moving so the next one could be emptied and filled. He wondered if he was already too high to jump. The last thing he needed just now was to hear another Liam Carroll anticommitment rant.

Fergus was wrong anyway. Liam’s hostility came from more than his own parents’ divorce. He was no doubt jealous of the fact Fergus and John had something permanent, while Robert and Liam’s future was being held at gunpoint by this potential job offer.

“Historically,” Liam said, “men stayed single until their late twenties or even thirties. The whole marrying young thing came about in the 1950s.” He nodded vigorously. “I read that somewhere.”

“But the reason men used to marry older,” John said, “was because they had to wait until they could support a spouse financially. Fergus has a great job, and I will too once I’m through uni. Even if I don’t, he can support us both.”

“But John, what if you got offered some high-powered political job outside Glasgow?” Liam turned to Fergus. “Would you follow him, when you’ve got so much to stay for?”

Robert looked away, his heart aching at the question.

“I wouldn’t ask him to follow me,” John said. “It’s a decision we’d make together.”

“But if it did come to that”—Fergus took John’s hand—“I’d follow him anywhere.”

The Ferris wheel shuddered, making Robert’s stomach drop. Instead of pausing again, it continued, turning clockwise, beginning the ride proper. As the ground swept away, the cold wind whooshed down the back of Robert’s jacket collar. He tilted up his chin to let the air swirl about his face, for a moment letting himself savor the illusion of freedom.

Then the basket descended, and he was peering into the wheel’s bright spokes. The golden lights streaked from the center outward, pulsing in time to the music. He remembered riding this Ferris wheel with his father, begging to go again and again until all their money for snacks had been spent on the ride.

Liam’s voice cracked his reverie. “Lads? I think I might be afraid of heights.”

Robert looked over to see his boyfriend clutching the edge of the bench with one hand, his other arm snaked around the metal bars above the seats.

“You told us you outgrew that,” John said. “In our
Back-to-Back
quiz show video, when I asked—”

“I know I said that! I was never feart the last time I did this.”

“How long ago was that?” Fergus asked.

Liam looked at Robert, face pinched with terror. “Your da was with us.”

Robert turned to the others. “Maybe eight years ago?” He put his hand over Liam’s on the edge of the seat. “Is it bad?”

Liam squashed his eyes shut. “Define
bad
.”

“Can you breathe?”

Liam checked with a sharp inhalation, then nodded.

“Do you want me to sit closer?”

“Will it throw us off? Like—the balance?”

“No.” Robert slid over, pressing against Liam’s side but not too tightly. “See?”

“Uh-huh.” Liam pulled his hand out from under Robert’s and latched onto his thigh instead. “Better.”

“Good. Can I put my arm around you?”

Liam hesitated. “Try it.”

Robert looped his arm around Liam’s shoulders, loosely at first, then tighter when Liam didn’t tense up. He looked across at Fergus, who was watching them with apprehension, then at John, who was watching them with amusement.

“Would it help,” John asked, “if I mentioned youse are the cutest couple I’ve ever seen?”

“Pretend I let go long enough to make an obscene gesture in your direction.” Liam squeezed Robert’s leg. “Mm, you’ve got amazing quads.”

Robert flexed his thigh in Liam’s grip. “Does that distract you from your fear?”

“It does.” His hand loosened just enough to move higher. “You know what else would distract me?”

“Hey, we’re right here,” Fergus said.

“I don’t see you,” Liam replied, his eyes still shut, “so I can pretend you’re just a nagging voice in my head.”

“A minute ago I was a fool,” Fergus said, “and now I’m a nag?”

“Never called you a fool. That’s your own self-assessment.”

“Hey.” Robert leaned over to speak low in Liam’s ear. “Leave off them now and I’ll see you’re rewarded later.”

Liam’s hand spasmed on Robert’s leg. Then his littlest finger let go, brushing close enough to Robert’s balls to make him squirm.

“Don’t move,” Liam said, his voice tight with fear again. “How long before it’s over?”

“There’s no countdown timer I can see. Just—” No, Robert knew better than to tell a tense person to
just relax
. “Keep thinking of other things.” He brushed his lips over Liam’s ear. “Like how you’re gonnae fuck me tonight.”

“What?” Liam opened his eyes, then jolted at the sight of the lights sweeping by. He shut his eyes again, tighter than ever. “Okay, I’ll think of that.”

“Think of what?” Fergus asked.

Liam just smiled quietly to himself. Then he said something Robert couldn’t hear.

He bent his head lower. “Sorry?”

“I said, I don’t know if you’re ready.” Liam rested the side of his head against Robert’s. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

“But I am.” Robert moved his mouth to Liam’s ear. “Been practicing all week at home. Fingers and toys and all.” He gave his earlobe a soft bite. “I’m pure ready.”

“Well,” Liam said with a hard breath. “In that case…” His death grip on the basket’s struts began to loosen, his knuckles turning pinker as the blood flowed into them again.

“Go on,” Robert murmured. “Tell me what you’ll do. From the beginning.”

“I’m gonnae take off all your clothes.”

“Seems a good start.”

“Shh. Then I’ll lick you everywh—” Liam’s phone rang inside his jacket pocket. “Seriously?” He took his hand off the bar to answer, then grabbed hold again with a whimper.

“I’ll get it.” Robert reached into Liam’s pocket and brought out his phone. “It’s your sister.”

“You answer it. Tell her I’m in the loo or something. If she knows I’m feart of Ferris wheels, I’ll never live it down.”

He put the phone to his ear. “Hiya, Mare. It’s Robert.”

“Where’s Liam?” Marianne’s voice was tight, like she was trying to sound calm.

“What’s wrong, lass? Where are you?”

Liam opened his eyes to give him a questioning look.

“We’re on the way to Royal Infirmary.” Marianne sniffled. “Ma’s been bleeding, see.”

Oh God.
“Is she okay?” he asked, watching Liam’s eyes turn wide with terror at his words.

“We’re not sure.” Marianne’s voice broke. “But she thinks she’s lost the baby.”

T
HE
CEILING
WAS
spewing that Paul McCartney Christmas song again. As Liam made his fortieth lap around the empty waiting room, he clenched his fists in time to the peppy rhythm, wanting to leap up and jam one of those fists into the speaker.