“I love you,” he said instead.

  “I love you too.”

  Ben kicked the blanket back up over them both, then anchored his arm around Stan’s waist. It took a long time for him to fall asleep again.

  The next morning Stan let Ben sleep in while he got up early and sorted through all of the pictures on his phone and made a list of social media posts for the rest of the week. Then he logged onto his emails and sorted through a list of invitations to different events and press releases, and one sponsorship opportunity that he quickly sent an email to decline.

  Brand sponsorship was an area he was definitely not ready to get involved in.

  Somewhere around midmorning he heard Ben get up and get in the shower, and Stan put the kettle on so there would be tea when he got out again.

  Ben emerged looking surprisingly refreshed, considering what he’d been through the night before, and Stan vowed to let it go. Ben would talk it through with Dr Greg when he was ready.

  “I’ve got something I want to show you,” Ben said once he had a cup of tea in his hands.

  Stan rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of that, thank you very much.”

  “Not my dick,” Ben said, laughing, and Stan let himself get lost in that sound. Ben laughed more now, and Stan loved it so much.

  “Okay.”

  Stan put on flat shoes when Ben said he wasn’t going to call a cab, and layered his long coat over the top of his outfit. Now October was only a few days away it was definitely getting cooler out.

  When they got outside, Stan tipped his face up to the chilly air. He liked this, liked watching the seasons change, liked the anticipation for next spring. He slipped his hand into Ben’s and let Ben lead the way.

  It took almost half an hour to walk across Camden, through the park to the other side of Primrose Hill. Ben checked his phone, then walked up to a house and confidently rang the doorbell. The outside was a combination of red and brown brick, with white trim and huge windows.

  “Ben?”

  “Trust me?”

  Stan shrugged. He could do that.

  A woman in a smart grey suit answered the door and smiled at Ben, then gestured them inside.

  “I found this place online,” Ben said, his voice low as they stepped into the hallway.

  “Are you going to buy it?”

  “Maybe.”

  Stan quickly realised that it was a flat, rather than the whole house, and it was beautiful.

  Light poured in from stained glass windows either side of the main door, opening into a wide hallway with wooden floors. From here, he could see all the way through to the back garden that stretched a ways back with real grass, almost unheard of in London.

  Stan felt his stomach clench. For the cat, he thought. They needed the garden for their cat.

  The estate agent didn’t attempt to show them around, which made Stan think Ben had been here before, without him.

  “It’s actually a maisonette,” Ben said and gestured to a slim staircase. “Up there’s the master bedroom and a bathroom. But I want to show you something else first.”

  He didn’t let go of Stan’s hand as they turned right and went down another short hallway to two doors, open opposite each other.

  “This would be your office,” Ben said. It looked out onto the garden at the back. What Stan thought was an apple tree grew right outside the window.

  Though the room was small, there was plenty of space for a desk set up under the window, and two of the three remaining walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The current owners had a thick, fluffy rug covering the floor.

  “And I’d use that room,” Ben continued, gesturing across the hall.

  His office was bigger than Stan’s, and had room for one of Tone’s little electric drum kits as well as Ben’s collection of guitars. There was a daybed set up in here too, meaning there was space for them to have guests to stay.

  Something very meaningful settled over Stan as they explored the rest of the house. A feeling of right that he didn’t know how else to explain.

  It was a few steps down to the main kitchen and living area, but that meant the space flowed right into the garden, with huge folding doors that they could open in the summer. Stan couldn’t really believe how tall the ceilings were, how much space was in the flat, despite it being relatively small.

  “That’s a real fire; I asked already,” Ben said. “And I know we don’t cook much, but the kitchen’s nice, I think.”

  “It’s amazing,” Stan murmured. He didn’t think this was a family home, but the people who lived here had set up a huge dining table anyway, a big wooden thing with benches on either side. Stan could already see the rest of the band sitting around it, with the windows open behind them.

  “Come and look at the master bedroom.”

  The staircase was steep, leading up to the area above the sunken kitchen and living room, which made sense now. The ceilings up here were lower, but Stan didn’t mind. It made the whole place feel cosy instead of cramped. On either side of the stairs was the bedroom at the back, overlooking the garden instead of the main road and its traffic, and a very luxurious bathroom on the other.

  The bathroom had both a walk-in shower and an elegant, old-fashioned claw-foot tub. Stan had always wanted one of those.

  Ben took Stan’s hand and gently tugged him close. “You’re being very quiet.”

  “I’m stunned.”

  “I wanted to find us a forever home,” Ben said, his voice suddenly soft. Stan stepped in close and wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “I wanted somewhere we can grow old together, with enough space for it to be comfortable but also just for us.”

  Stan kissed him. “I want that cat.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Maybe two cats. And….” He hesitated, knowing they’d had this conversation before, but wanting to make sure they were still on the same page. “No kids.”

  “No.”

  “We’re going to grow old here. Me and you.”

  “Yeah. If you want that.”

  This time Stan didn’t hesitate. “I really, really do.”

  Ben’s smile was everything.

  They found the estate agent in the hallway, near the door, typing away on her phone.

  “We’ll take it,” Ben said. “We’re cash buyers, no chain, and we’ll offer the full asking price. How soon can we move in?”

  She smiled at them beatifically. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  The next two weeks were some of the most frantic of Stan’s life.

  Ares’s new album was about to drop, so Ben was stressed and moody, and willingly agreed to pick up extra sessions with his therapist to try and manage the influx of anxiety he had around the whole thing. Stan was proud of him. It seemed like Ben was finally, finally figuring out how to ask for help.

  At the same time, the work Stan had been chasing since coming back to London arrived with a dozen or more invites to parties, shows, exhibitions, and meetings. He’d never been a darling of the fashion industry before, and though he had a suspicion that his “leaked” relationship with the lead singer of Ares might have something to do with his sudden popularity, he decided he didn’t care. A connection was still a connection, and he still needed to work. More than that, he wanted to work.

  Their estate agent decided to do what Ben had asked and worked her arse off to get them moved into the new flat as soon as possible. It turned out the current owners had already left, and most of the furniture was for staging purposes, so they just needed to sign contracts and move money around to make it all happen.

  “I’m going to put this place up for sale,” Stan said as he sliced a banana and waited for his coffee to brew. Ben had come over early, dragging himself out of bed so they could have breakfast together before Stan’s first meeting of the day.

  “What? No.”

  “Ben.”

  Stan took him a bowl of fruit and yoghurt and put it down, trusting that this early in the morning, Ben wouldn’t complain about having to eat something healthy instead of a bacon sandwich.

  “You don’t have to,” Ben said, digging into his breakfast with gusto. “I can afford it.”

  “I know that. But I want it to be our home, that we made together, not a place that you bought for us.”

  “I’m not arguing with you about money. For fuck’s sake.”

  “Good.” Stan smiled at him sunnily. “Then I’ll call the estate agents and get it sorted.”

  “You’re a pain in the fucking arse, Stan Novikov.”

  “I love you too.”

  They were awake early so Stan could get to London College of Fashion for a meeting about him potentially becoming a mentor there, the same way he’d been at Parsons. He’d managed to get a great reference from his former supervisor at Parsons, and though she was sad to see Stan go, she was happy to recommend him to LCF.

  Ben snagged Stan’s wrist before he rushed out of the flat—when did it get so dark in the mornings?—and tugged him in close for a kiss.

  “Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” Stan said, and kissed him again.

  November had taken hold, and the temperature difference between the biting winter wind and the stuffy, stifling heat on the underground made Stan’s chest feel tight and his nose run.

  He was not going to get sick. He really was not.

  The college was only the first stop of his day. After his meeting was done—things were looking good, but he wouldn’t know until after Christmas if they wanted him for next year—he headed just down the road to the fashion district to meet Olivia at another event she’d invited him to.

  He wasn’t late, but still felt flustered as he gave his name to the girl guarding the door and rushed in to find Olivia. She was sitting at the bar, naturally, in a sleek, tight black dress, chatting animatedly to the little gaggle of followers around her. She was magnetic like that.

  “Good to see you, darling,” she said, exchanging cheek-kisses with Stan.

  “You too.”

  Olivia had made sure Stan got something fizzy and non-alcoholic so he didn’t stand out for not drinking. These events were always more about being seen than anything else, and Stan was happy to have Olivia by his side as they navigated the room.

  She had status here, with her job in Harrods, and Stan was still re-establishing himself on the London scene. Soon he wouldn’t need to be a plus-one at events like this. He’d be getting his own invitations, especially with his contract at the magazine. For now, though, it was nice to have a partner in crime who could murmur names at him as they wandered around.

  The last time he’d been working in London, Stan had attended plenty of industry events, but more on the publishing side than the celebrity side. He’d made friends with marketing managers and copy editors, not models and designers. This world was both familiar and not.

  “Olivia,” a slim Asian woman said, leaning in to kiss her cheeks. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too. This is Stan Novikov. Stan, this is Alice Xu.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, taking her hand. “I actually saw your show at New York Fashion Week.”

  She was a bridal designer primarily, though her work was conceptual and edgy enough for it to work its way through into some high fashion publications.

  “Of course, Stan. I chased your representatives for a long time. I wanted you to walk for me.”

  Stan laughed. He didn’t have representatives, so that was probably why she’d had a problem. “Thank you. I’m a journalist, though, not a model.” He’d repeated that phrase countless times throughout his career.

  “Oh, I know. It’s just that I’ve been working with models with your particular look for my next collection. It’s specifically a line of gender-fluid wedding outfits. I’ve already got Cara Delevigne signed up to walk for me.”

  “Interesting.” Stan barely noticed when Olivia slipped away, letting them continue their conversation in private. “That definitely sounds like the type of thing I’d cover. Let me know when it’s ready, and I’d love to come take a look.”

  “If you’re looking for an angle,” Alice pressed, “you’d be more than welcome to work with us on it. An insider’s take, if you will. I have a gown that you’d look stunning in—it’s a mist-coloured organza.”

  “I’m not a model, so you’d be taking an awfully big chance on me. There are other gender-fluid models out there who I’m sure would love to be involved.”

  “I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” Alice said, smiling kindly, though he definitely caught a glint in her eye. “I think it could be a great opportunity to have you involved. I won’t lie—the thought of having you cover the collection from the inside is a huge bonus. This kind of thing isn’t an easy sell, and you’re already so well respected for covering these kinds of collections.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he laughed. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She winked at him, then melted back into the crowd.

  It took Stan almost half an hour to find Olivia again, eventually tracking her down near the bar, where she was ordering another drink.

  “You threw me to the wolves,” Stan murmured as he took a seat next to her.

  “Alice isn’t a wolf. She’s a force of nature.” Olivia shrugged, the strap of her dress falling down from her shoulder. Stan fixed it for her. “I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “She wants me to cover her collection ‘from the inside.’” The barman slid him a glass, and Stan picked it up, trusting that Olivia would have ordered him something he’d like.

  “You’d be fantastic.”

  “I’m not a model. I don’t know how much credibility I’d lose by doing something like that.”

  Olivia was already shaking her head. “Not you. If this is about proving yourself, you did that a long time ago. I think it’s a great opportunity.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “If you need references, let me know. I know a few people who have worked with her in the past year or so. They’ll be able to let you know what she’s like.”

  “Do you have a vested interest in this?” Stan laughed.

  “Not at all. I just know you, and I know why you haven’t done anything like this before. You’ve made your point, though. No one underestimates you anymore, Stan. I think you’ll add a lot of credibility to what Alice is trying to achieve.”

  “Have you seen the collection?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve heard a few things, though. You know that if anyone was going to tackle a gender-fluid wedding collection and have it really make waves, it’s Alice Xu.”

  Stan closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s going to be amazing, isn’t it?”

  Olivia smiled serenely. “Oh, I do hope so.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Ben missed his regular Thursday appointment with Dr Greg because he was too busy trying to sort out the flat. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but by Thursday afternoon, he regretted the decision and called him instead.

  Thankfully, Greg hadn’t given away Ben’s slot to someone else.

  Talking through the decisions they were making and why actually helped Ben come to terms with them and feel more assured that his choices were the right ones, for once. Finding the flat hadn’t been difficult. Stan’s reaction had been more than Ben could have hoped for. Now he just had to make it real.

  Though he could probably have called someone and arranged for them to do things like decorate and buy furniture and turn the place into a home, he wanted to do it himself. Even if it was stressful, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Fortunately, their estate agent was a fucking dream and helped with stuff Ben was pretty sure wasn’t within her job description.

  He put together a list of furniture they needed and worked steadily through buying it all online, arranging for it to all be delivered on the same day so he didn’t have to keep running back and forth to the house to let people in. Stan picked his own desk, and Ben went to a bookshop and dropped a ridiculous amount of money in an attempt to start to fill the book cases in Stan’s office. Being able to do that left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling that he wouldn’t admit to under torture.

  God, he loved that man.

  It turned out moving house was one problem Ben could throw money at and it actually helped.

  “I can’t believe you did all this on your own,” Stan said, standing in the kitchen of their forever home with a cup of tea Ben had made for him.

  A lot of things were still in boxes. Furniture was yet to be assembled, and nothing was where it was supposed to be. But they each had a set of keys, and Ben had changed the alarm codes, and it was officially, legally, theirs.

  That alone called for a cup of tea in celebration.

  “I had the motivation. For once.”

  “But you did it so quickly.”

  “Do you like it? I know there’s still some decorating to do, and we’ll probably be buying furniture for months, but it’s liveable for now….”

  “Ben.” Stan set down his tea and stepped in close, wrapping his arms around Ben’s neck. “It’s amazing. I love it. Thank you.”

  Ben kissed him, slow and easy.

  “We live together,” Ben murmured.

  “Yep. You’re stuck with me now.”

  “I reckon I can handle that.”

  Ben had been attracted to the living space in this flat more than anything else. The kitchen wasn’t huge, not compared to the house he shared with the band, but there was plenty of space for the two of them and the big dining table. The cupboards were all dark grey with silver handles, and the countertops had a glitter going through the white marble, which Ben surprised himself by liking. All the floors on the ground level were wooden—real wood—with underfloor heating so it never felt cold.

  From the kitchen it was another two steps down to the living room where he’d bought two huge corner sofas, angled towards each other, with cosy armchairs in between. This was where they’d make music; he was sure of it. He’d bought a huge TV to go on the wall, even though none of them watched that much TV. It just felt like the right thing to be there.