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It wasn’t as though the two of them were in any kind of permanent relationship, were they? Priest didn’t owe him any sort of explanation. In fact, Henri had known Priest was seeing other people, which was why he’d planned to tell him how he felt today.

But for Priest to display such obvious remorse at being caught with whoever this was must mean he was someone important, which made Henri want some kind of fucking explanation—now.

“Can we talk about this for a minute?” Priest said. “Just the two of us?”

Henri’s eyes once again cut to the man who remained silent behind Priest. “I don’t think so. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…guest?”

“I think it would be better if—”

“If what?” Henri demanded, his attention now returning to Priest. “If I shut my mouth and wait in the corner while you kiss him goodbye? Yeah, not gonna happen.”

Priest’s jaw clenched, and Henri couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at him or himself. “Julien, this is Henri. Henri, this is Julien.”

The name was a familiar one. Henri had heard Priest talk about this Julien guy in the past. How he’d caught him stealing his car, had to bail him out of jail, how he drove Priest out of his ever-loving mind. But he’d conveniently left out how stunning Julien was, and just how much Priest apparently loved kissing him.

Julien stepped forward, a tight expression on his face. “Bonjour, Henri. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

So apparently Henri wasn’t the only one in the room that Priest had been keeping informed. “I wish I could say the same, but I don’t make it a habit to lie.”

“Henri.” Priest aimed a pointed look in his direction, and Henri shrugged. “Right, that’s it.” Priest stalked over to where Henri stood in the front entrance of the apartment, grabbed hold of the handle on Henri’s duffel bag, and went to yank it out of his hand.

But Henri wasn’t having any of that; he tightened his grip around the handles and hauled it back toward himself, and when Priest came with it and they were practically nose to nose, Henri’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I suppose I should be flattered—my replacement and I are very similar, from what you told me.”

Priest’s mouth fell open, but when no words came out, Henri gave an unaffected shrug. “I mean, I get it—he’s hot. I would’ve given up years of friendship and trust to fuck him too. You think he’d let me have a go?”

A feral sound vibrated through Priest, and it was that moment, that protective instinct he displayed in response to a threat in Julien’s direction, that told Henri that whatever he and Priest had had was now over.

“I understand that you’re pissed off. But you need to watch your mouth,” Priest said, before he lowered his gaze to the bag between them and let go. “You should’ve told me you were coming.”

“Why? So you could rush him out the door, hide him a little longer?”

“I wasn’t hiding him. You knew about him.”

“Yeah, but you left a few fucking details out, didn’t you?”

“I was going to tell you the next time I saw you.”

“Joel,” Julien said, and the sound of Priest’s birth name in that soft, gentle tone made Henri want to hit something. “I think it might be best if I leave.”

No shit, Henri thought, and almost added, Pity you didn’t do that last night, last week, the first time you ran into my damn boyfriend. But at the last second, Henri bit his tongue, because that was the fucking problem here, wasn’t it? He’d never been Priest’s boyfriend, never been his partner, or had any claim on him at all. All he’d ever been was a casual fuck, and this ending proved it.

“Nah, you stay. I’m gonna go,” Henri said. “It’s clear who Joel wants here, and it’s not me.”

Henri took a step back, and as he turned to leave, he felt as though he were a robot. His feet and legs were moving, but nothing else was computing. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, and halfway down the stairs, he heard footsteps following.

“Henri,” Priest called out.

But Henri was done listening. He’d seen and heard too much as it was, and all he needed now was to get far away from the man who had just ripped his heart out.

Henri walked toward the parking lot, where he could call a taxi and peace the fuck out. But halfway there, strong fingers found his wrist and pulled him around until he was face to face with Priest.

“Would you stop for a fucking minute? Let me talk to you, explain what’s going on.”

“What is there to explain, Joel? I’m not stupid; I’ve got eyes, and anyone with half a brain can see that whatever I walked in on means a hell of a lot more to you than what you just let walk out your door.”

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