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“I hope you’re being careful. I don’t like the idea of you getting caught up in something dangerous.”
“Relax, Fir. I promise I’m not doing anything reckless. And if things ever got too shady, I’d be the first one out of there. You know me. I’m not one to take unnecessary risks.”
His words did little to alleviate my concern, but I forced a smile and dropped the matter. After all, York was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. It wasn’t my place to police his every move. But still, as a friend, I worried.
“All right,” I said. “Just promise me you’ll stay safe, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Cross my heart,” York vowed, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “I hate to cut this short, but I should get going. Early morning tomorrow for my mom’s birthday bash. She always insists on having breakfast together.”
“I’m sorry. I know those kinds of days aren’t easy for you.”
“No, but I’ve been getting through them for twenty years, so I’ll survive tomorrow as well. But thank you.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks, and thanks for having me over.” York stood and stretched. “It was great catching up.”
“Always.” I rose to my feet. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. And no worries about my clothes. You can return those anytime.”
York smiled warmly, and we embraced in a tight hug.
“Take care of yourself, all right?” I whispered into his ear as we pulled away. “And remember what I said earlier. Stay safe.”
“Promise,” he replied with a reassuring grin. “You too, Fir. Don’t be too hard on yourself about the whole Tomás situation. You deserve someone who understands and appreciates you.”
“Thanks, York.” My heart swelled with appreciation for his kind words.
York grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door. I waved as he closed the door behind him. I had no clue if I’d ever find someone who could fill the void Samuel had left behind. But at least I had a friend like York to lean on, and for now, that would have to be enough.
6
TOMÁS
What was the etiquette after a man kicked you out for not being able to fulfill his sexual needs? I bet Miss Manners didn’t have an answer for that one, and neither did I.
In the two days since my failed attempt at sex with Fir—mãe de Deus, even thinking about it left the bitter taste of defeat in my mouth—he’d been on my mind all the time. Not so much him as a person but the humiliating episode at his house.
So what did I do now? Did I leave it at that, accepting that this was a weird fluke caused by miscommunication and me wanting to be too careful? Or did I attempt to fix it? But Jesus, I had no idea where to start. None.
Usually, if I’d fucked up and hurt someone, I would send a small gift. Or if my screw-up had been bad, a large gift. They say money can’t buy happiness, but it sure as fuck can buy forgiveness. One can debate whether that was morally or ethically okay, but I wasn’t about to have that discussion.
But if there was a gift that could communicate “sorry for not listening when you asked me to fuck you like I meant it,” I had no clue what it could be. Fir wasn’t the type for the superficial stuff that often did wonders in my world, like eau de toilette, a designer bag, or a pair of exclusive shoes. That wasn’t Fir’s style. The man wore practical clothes, nothing fancy or exclusive, and his shoes had been Skechers, for fuck’s sake. I bet they were comfortable, but they didn’t exactly scream luxury. So anything fancy or expensive was out. What did that leave?
Words? They seemed so inadequate. A simple sorry couldn’t fix this.
The buzzing of my phone on the nightstand pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. Fir. My heart sped up.
Can we talk?
I texted back right away.
Yes, please. I’m sorry about what happened.
So am I. I didn’t give you a fair chance, sorry. I was too hard on you.
Should I make a double-entendre joke? Nah, better not. Not the right timing.
I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you and didn’t do what you asked me to.
