Page 139 of In at the Deep End

Matt had packed away his tools three minutes earlier, wished him a good evening, and disappeared through the side gate.

Again.

Owen frowned.

Something was different.

The day after the party, Matt had left earlier than usual. Owen hadn’t thought much of it. The dissertation was nearing its deadline, and to be fair, there wasn’t a great deal left to do in the garden.

The following afternoon, Owen had wandered outside with two mugs of coffee.

Matt had already gone.

Wednesday had followed much the same pattern. Matt arrived at nine, worked steadily all morning, ate lunch, worked all afternoon, then packed everything away and headed home.

Thursday was a repeat.

Friday had been a no-show.

Owen turned every minute over in his head, searching for an answer to explain the routine they’d suddenly slipped into.

There wasn’t one.

It wasn’t as though Matt had become withdrawn. He still smiled, laughed, took the mickey out of Owen for buying plants without once thinking whether they’d fit in the garden. Working alongside him felt as easy as ever.

But each time five o’clock arrived, Matt left. No lingering, no last-minute chats. No, Fancy a coffee? No, Come and have a look at this.

Just “See you tomorrow.”

Owen missed the conversations. He missed Matt’s easy laughter, the way he somehow filled every silence without ever seeming to notice he was doing it.

He leaned against the kitchen worktop and folded his arms.

Did I push him too fast?

Was the party too much?

Did I ask more of him than he was ready for?

His mind replayed the party. The sex. The morning after.

Nothing jarred. Nothing felt out of place.

But something has changed.

And if Matt was upset with him, why was he still smiling?

More than once that week he’d caught himself reaching for his phone before stopping. He didn’t want to crowd Matt.

If he needs a little space, then he can have it.

Even so, the whole thing puzzled the hell out of him.

He’d wandered into the kitchen that morning and reached automatically for a second mug before remembering there was nobody to drink from it.

Yesterday he’d spotted an unfamiliar plant pushing through one of the borders. His first thought had been, Matt will know what that is.

Then he’d remembered Matt had already gone home.