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"Thomas, take Josh to the room you're using as your studio and show him what you did on the roof last night. "
"Oh, I don't think - "
"I know that, you're an artist. " Marcus waved a hand. "Go take a look, Josh. You'll like what you see. "
As Thomas reluctantly complied, he threw a narrow look at Marcus before disappearing down the hallway with Josh. Marcus slid an arm around Lauren's waist and shot her a smile.
"He wants to kill me right now, but it's the easiest way to get him over his jitters.
We'll have to go dig the two out of there in a half hour because they'll be so busy impressing the shit out of each other and planning their next show together. That should take some pressure off Josh. He can scale back a bit, take some time to relax. I know he's been working his ass off. "
"So have you. I've seen all the faxes and emails. " Lauren studied him, then stepped up without preamble and put her arms around him. Drawing Marcus against her in a close, emotion-absorbing hug, she rubbed his back with her palms. "I'm so sorry. No, don't pull away. Just hold on a moment. Don't you know how important you are to us?" she scolded gently. "Josh absolutely wants to pummel you. It should have been you calling us instead of Thomas, but I'm glad he did. You look like shit. "
Marcus lifted his head, startled. "I do not. "
Lauren grinned. "The invincible pretty boy ego. Eternally sensitive but as enduring as the Rock of Gibraltar. " She ran her thumb beneath one of his eyes. "You're always a god, Marcus. But for you, you look like shit. Which means anyone else would be set to go out on a model runway. "
"Ego restored. " Catching her wrist, he squeezed lightly and lowered their now linked hands to swing between them. "I'll be all right. I have Thomas. "
"I noticed. When you came into the room, he was the first thing you looked for, like a captain seeking a port in a storm. Do you have him, Marcus?" She looked as if she regretted the question, but Marcus could understand why she asked it. Thomas had left before. . .
"We'll see. He hasn't resolved things with his family, or even told me how he plans to do so. " This morning Marcus had woken up with the apprehension Thomas would be packing his bags. Thomas had been silent on the subject, and for once Marcus hadn't had the strength to demand an answer, seize what his Fate would be.
He was in limbo and he knew it, but he just. . . couldn't face it yet. He'd heard everything Thomas had said last night during their intense encounter, the implied promise, but that was. . . Well, he knew Thomas loved him, would tear out his heart for him when Marcus was in pain. He also knew Thomas felt the same way about his family in North Carolina.
He saw in Lauren's face she knew it wasn't like him not to force the issue, but instead of saying anything, she gave him a considering look. "Well, since we expect the boys to be occupied for the next half hour, why don't I offer you my limited culinary skills to help with dinner?"
"Or you could keep me company in the kitchen and take a glass of wine. " She made a face. "Am I that bad?"
"No, of course not. You toss a good salad. Particularly if it comes in one of those premixed bags. "
She smacked his arm, but agreeably accompanied him to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine as he checked on the status of the dinner he'd had brought in by caterers. Normally he would have enjoyed the preparations of cooking for friends, but Marcus had preferred to spend his time wrapped around Thomas. Talking, fucking. . . sleeping, starting all over again. He had muscles that hadn't been sore in years.
"Why haven't you ever told Thomas about us, for heaven's sake? Are you ashamed of us? And Josh said he didn't even know you had lived with Thomas. Why hide us from one another?"
Marcus lifted his shoulder. "I haven't had many relationships, Lauren. In fact, with the exception of Thomas, the last one I had of this intensity was when I was fifteen years old. Everything else has been club relationships. I never wanted someone that close to me. "
I didn't want to be hurt when they were killed, or worse, decided they didn't want to love me back.
He hadn't realized that about himself until thi
s morning, when he'd held Thomas close, watched the sun rise and told his pet things he'd never even told himself.
Her irritation appeared to die away at the harsh honesty in his voice.
"Marcus, if you want him. . . I know it's tough. God, do I know. But you have to make yourself as vulnerable to him as you're demanding of him. Show him who you are. "
"I did," he said quietly. "So now. . . I guess we see what we'll see. " But as he turned away to check the stove temperature, Lauren could feel his fear of it like a tangible thing. She caught a flash of heartbreaking sadness in his eyes she'd never seen there before. Along with his obvious fatigue, it made her afraid for him.
Marcus, who never appeared vulnerable, seemed as breakable as a ceramic sculpture. She hoped like hell Thomas was telling the truth about his plans to stay this time.
* * * * *
After only a few minutes, any self-consciousness Thomas felt about Josh's status as an art giant vanished. They talked brush techniques, use of color and light. Josh gave him some sculpting tips, his specific milieu. Though it wasn't Thomas' best medium, there were a few pieces in his head he wanted to do.
Josh moved a lot as he spoke, the gray eyes brilliant. He used a scratch sheet on Thomas' easel to demonstrate his points. One part of Thomas' mind just cartwheeled like a giddy toddler with the thought, "I'm standing here getting tips from J. Martin", but the artist in him couldn't be suppressed for long. Before he knew it, he was beside Josh, pointing out other options, taking what Josh was suggesting to a different level, using it as a springboard for other possibilities.
The chance to stand with a peer and immerse himself in their shared world and language. . . Sometimes being an artist, obsessed with his art, was like being an alien.
