Page 138 of In at the Deep End

He drew a slow breath.

Finish the dissertation.

It had started as an academic deadline. Now it became an anchor, something he could control.

He couldn’t control who he’d fallen in love with.

He couldn’t control whether Owen would ever feel the same.

He couldn’t even control the ridiculous grin that appeared whenever Owen gazed at him.

But I can write. I can finish.

He could pour every confused thought into something that made sense.

Three chapters left. Then the bibliography. Then the formatting.

That was the plan. Keep busy, keep moving.

Don’t start imagining futures that might never exist.

He glanced once more towards Owen’s balcony.

Just because he’d fallen in love didn’t mean anything had actually changed.

Except, of course, it had.

From that moment on, every coffee they shared, every joke, every accidental touch, every smile across the garden would carry a weight it hadn’t before.

And Owen has absolutely no idea.

Owen woke to an empty bed before he remembered where Matt had gone.

He smiled. Matt and coffee. Some habits apparently formed quickly.

He pulled on a T-shirt and wandered downstairs to an unexpectedly tidy kitchen and not a soul in sight. Around him were noises, pointing to life existing somewhere in the house.

He knew where Matt would be.

Owen walked through the lounge, waving at the guys on the couch. He stood at the door, gazing out at the garden.

A mug of coffee stood on the patio table, doubtless stone-cold by now. And Matt was by the pool, apparently deep in thought.

Owen watched him for a moment.

He looks peaceful.

Whatever was going through his head, Owen had no desire to interrupt it. Some thoughts deserved room to breathe.

He smiled to himself. When Matt was ready, he’d come back.

And Owen had guests to feed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Owen glanced at the clock.

Five past five.