Chapter 83

He picked up the post from the mat, separating out his monthly magazine from the bills—all in Yazid’s name—and headed into the kitchen to start dinner. Yazid would be starting full-time at the pub next month, and then no more boyfriend smelling like curried mystery meat. Ali was looking forward to it.

“Evening, Mrs P!”

Speaking of boyfriends…Ali turned in time to receive the whirlwind, catching him by the shoulders and kissing his cheek. “Whoa!” he said. “Your whites are in the wash, I’m about to start dinner, how’s Kevin, and how was the hospital?”

Yazid grinned. “Sorry. Today’s been manic.”

“You look manic,” Ali complained. “Post’s on the table. How was the hospital?”

“Big, stank of antiseptics, saw a nurse that could’ve turned me straight—oi!”

Ali raised the spoon again, ready to strike. “Say it again,” he challenged.

“Could have,” Yazid said. “Didn’t. Jealous, much?”

“You have wandering eyes,” Ali accused, but leaned forward to kiss him lightly.