My Better Half (Sequel to My Cup of Tea)

Chapter Fifteen

Maybe, if Baz's mother had still been alive, he would have liked going back to Hampshire for the holidays. But now, without her, it just felt strange to go back. He'd grown up there until his father had sent him off to boarding school, but still. He'd spent every summer, at least, on the property since he was born. He'd spent each of those nights sleeping in the massive, four-poster bed in his room. He'd spent his mornings having breakfast at the round table in the kitchen with Daphne and his siblings (never his father). He'd spent holiday evenings sitting at the mahogany table in the dining hall, eating awkward and delicious feasts with his family.

Still, it felt foreign to be there. He had never felt at home in Hampshire—not in any way that mattered. He felt like a ghost. Like a stranger. When he thought about it, he thought that he might've felt at home here until he realized that he was gay, but even before he realized that, he'd always felt out of place. Up until he was fifteen, he'd spent so much time pretending to be a pompous git that he thought that maybe he just was a pompous git. But then he'd realized that he was gay and everything else sort of clicked into place.

Going back to Hampshire made him relive all of those years of pretending. Those years of lying. It made his stomach churn.

Thankfully, his father was finishing up at the office in London so he wasn't home yet. Daphne was home, of course, along with Baz's younger siblings. Mordelia lunged at him as soon as he opened the door. He dropped his bag and let himself wrap his arms around her in return. She was a feisty little thing and Baz secretly loved her. If there was one thing he liked about Hampshire, it was Mordelia. Daphne was okay, too. She was understanding and accepting of Baz, even though he wasn't sure what she was accepting him for. He hadn't told her that he was gay, but somehow she knew. They never spoke about it, but sometimes she would give him this look like, I see you and I love you.

"I've missed you, Bazzy!"

Baz rolled his eyes at the nickname. Daphne called him Basilton, but his father stuck to Tyrannus. Baz loathed then name, but he never said anything about it. He'd asked Daphne about it once, on a day where he felt more unnerved than usual. Daphne had sighed and explained that Baz's mother, Natasha, had chosen the name and that Baz's father liked to have it live on because she hadn't.

Baz never brought it up after that.

"You've grown," he said, unfurling himself from around her.

She grinned and pointed to a gap in her gum. "And I've lost a tooth!"

He smiled back at her and gathered his things to take them up to his room, knowing that Mordelia would be right on his heels. "Are you excited for Father Christmas to come?"

She pulled at his free hand, taking it in her own. "Of course! Aren't you?"

Baz sighed waited for Mordelia to open the door to his room.

"I'm afraid I haven't been good enough for Father Christmas this year," he explained, stepping into his room and dropping his two bags down on the sofa on the end of his bed.

"Why?"

He unzipped his black leather duffel bag to start unpacking. "I've just made some bad decisions. It's been...it's been a challenging year."

She frowned and jumped up onto his bed, peering at him from under her long lashes. "What'd you do, Bazzy? Did you hurt your girlfriend?"

He frowned. "My—who told you about her?"

"Father did. He showed me the newspaper and told me about her. She looks like a dolly."

Baz didn't really know what to say. If he took a picture with Simon and the papers printed that up, what would his father do? Would he bring it home, slam it down on the table, and insist that his family take turns insulting Baz and Simon? Baz shuddered at the thought of his father mocking Simon.

Simon. Baz wondered if he should text him. He was, admittedly, very worried about Simon. Simon had told him that Penny would be going off with her family for the holiday which meant that Simon would be all alone in that flat. Alone for Christmas...Baz really should text him.

"I...she's part of it, I suppose. It's just a lot."

Mordelia nodded like she knew what he meant. "Father Christmas will come, anyway. And, if he doesn't, I'll share my presents."

"What did you request?"

"A horse."

Baz couldn't help but scoff. "Crowley, Mordelia. Where do you plan on keeping a horse? What do you plan on doing with a horse?"

"I want to ride it," she shrugged.

"You don't know how. And you've nowhere to keep it."

She looked around the room and grinned. "I'll keep it here!"

"You will do no such thing."

Baz smiled at her, feeling an under-developed argument coming from her. She was persistent and stubborn and strong-willed.

This was the only thing that made him feel like the empty mansion in Hampshire was really his home.