Down London Road

answered from the bedroom.
    I strolled along the hallway, pulling the bandanna off my head and thinking how nice it was to feel this exhausted. It was an accomplished kind of exhausted and I loved it. I stopped in the doorway of the bedroom to find Camsitting on the end of the bed with his hands behind his back.
    Our room was now a weird mishmash of my stuff and his, but I didn’t care. I just loved that when I woke up in the morning it was to a warm arm wrapped around my waist and usually a welcome morning erection nudging me in the ass.
    I wouldn’t swap it for anything.
    The move had gone well for the most part. We were both pretty laid-back about the small things, so sharing space wasn’t really an issue for me and Cam, and Cole had recreated his bedroom from upstairs in Cam’s guest bedroom in record-breaking time. He seemed to be perfectly happy with his new home, and glad that our room was on the other side of the flat from his.
    I was glad for that too.
    Mum, on the other hand, was still pulling the silent treatment, refusing to talk to me whenever I popped upstairs to bring her groceries and clean the place.
    Guilt would not find me. Not because of her.
    Admittedly, though, some days were easier than others.
    However, everything else had gone smoothly. Everyone was happy for us. Well, except Blair, I imagine, but since Cam had been as good as his word about breaking contact with her, I didn’t know that for sure. The only argument we’d had so far was about a week ago when we’d been watching a movie and Malcolm had called me. I took the call. Malcolm had just wanted to chat, a chat in which I told him I’d moved in with Cam. Silence had fallen on the other side of the line and when Malcolmfinally spoke, offering me congratulations, it was with such false cheer that I knew I’d hurt him. Again. Before I could respond – not that I knew what to say – he had made his excuses and hung up.
    When I returned from the kitchen, I was promptly manhandled by Cameron into the bedroom, where he tried to calmly (and was unsuccessful in that endeavour) ask me what Malcolm wanted. It ended in an argument. Cam argued that since he stopped talking to Blair I should stop talking to Malcolm. I argued it wasn’t the same thing since Blair was in love with him. Cam argued that Malcolm was in love with me. And since I thought he might be right, I let him win the argument, assuring him I wouldn’t speak to Malcolm any more. I didn’t think that would be a problem. I had a feeling that was the last call I would ever receive from Malcolm.
    As fiery as the disagreement had been, once it was done, it was done. We settled into our routines quickly, and so far, I would say the moving in thing was an absolute success. The following Saturday we were having a little flat-warming party so all our friends could visit and make sarcastic comments about how sickeningly in love we were.
    I couldn’t wait!
    Eyeing Cam suspiciously, thinking his behaviour very odd as he sat there on the end of the bed, I asked, ‘What are you doing? Where’s Cole?’
    ‘At McDonald’s with his friends. I said he could.’
    ‘That’s fine. Maybe we should order in food instead of cooking, then.’
    ‘Sounds good.’
    He seemed off. ‘You okay?’
    ‘How was the first day?’ he countered, suddenly grinning at the state of me.
    ‘Brilliant. I mean my neck and back hurt and I have paint on my eyelashes, but it was brilliant.’ I sidled into the room and slumped down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.
    When I pulled back, Cam gave me a half smile. I studied him, definitely getting the impression something wasn’t quite right. Did he look nervous? ‘Seriously, what’s going on?’
    ‘I have a present for you.’ He pulled his hand out from behind his back and held the gift-wrapped rectangular package out to me.
    I grinned at him. ‘What’s this for?’ I took the proffered gift and ran my fingers over it, wondering what it could be.
    Cam’s lips curled up at the corners at my excitement. ‘It’s just something to commemorate your first day as one of M. Holloway’s painters and decorators.’
    I laughed, giving him another quick kiss, before turning to my present. I slowly unwrapped it, tucking the paper behind me as I turned the gift over. It was a paintbrush – and not just any paintbrush. It was one of the best, most expensive, professional paintbrushes.
    ‘Oh, Cam.’ I sighed at his thoughtfulness as I pried open