“Here. Order whatever you want for both of us.”
I load up my screen as a distraction as he taps away then puts my phone down. I can feel him watching me as I adjust the color they want on all five photos. It takes time, and I kind of forget that until Mackie disappears and my office door is opened.
I stand when he leaves, worried he’s bored, but a moment later, he returns, carrying a chair from the other office, his raised shirt showing his abs as he puts it down next to me and tugs his shirt down. I look away, not wanting to be caught. Mackie drops into it, tugging himself closer so he can lean into my desk next to me. “Don’t mind me, keep working,” he says, and I stare at my screen without seeing anything.
All I see are his abs.
I’ve seen some of the most beautiful, perfect bodies in the world. Hell, I’ve photographed them, but that snippet of his? I can’t remember any of them now other than him.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Oh, um, the client wanted some changes. I’ve been waiting all day. They finally just got back to me. It’s due by midnight.”
“Cutting it close,” he scoffs. “Idiots. What changes do they want? They look incredible.”
“Just small details. They want me to smooth the nail polish and match them in each photo, edit out some flyaway hairs, change one background, and alter some colors. It should only take me a few hours.This is how it always is with magazines. They leave it until the last minute,” I explain. I usually like it because it keeps me busy, and I’ve never missed a deadline.
“Got it, don’t mind me then. Go ahead,” he replies, and I eye him before focusing on the screen, opening the tools I need, and carefully removing each flyaway hair. It was supposed to be the hair team’s problem, but they apparently had trouble, so I’m happy to help out.
He sits at my side on the stolen chair and watches me work. It should be distracting, but if anything, I enjoy it. I worry he’ll get bored, but he seems happy enough to observe me, and I work as quickly as I can so I can spend time with him.
My phone buzzes, and I load up the doorbell camera to see a delivery driver.
“Let me get it,” I say and hurry to the front door. Once I have the bags, I head upstairs and to my office.
When I return, Mackie is standing before my desk drawers, looking out of the window. For a moment, I fear he saw what was inside, but he smiles at me as he turns, and I relax. He didn’t. If he did, he would have questions.
Putting the bags on the coffee table, I sit on the sofa. He strides over and drops to the floor, cross-legged, with his back to my office door so he faces me, and then he takes out boxes and sorts them. “I figured you could pick whatever you like.” There’s some kind of pastry, a rice dish, a noodle dish, pasta, and a calzone. Smiling, I pick what I want and lean back, eating slowly as I watch him devour his food.
“So nothing really happened today?” I ask after I swallow a mouthful.
Uncapping a drink, he hands it to me and takes a sip of his own. “It did, but it isn’t something I want to talk about, sorry.”
“Don’t be. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you ever do, I’m here, okay?” I offer, wishing he would lean on me, but he probably isn’t ready.
“Thanks, Conan,” he replies softly, and we spend the rest of themeal eating in silence. When I’m done, I groan, and Mackie gets up, wiping his mouth. “I’ll clean up while you continue working.”
“No, let me help?—”
He stops me with a look. “You need to work. I can do this. Go on.” He pushes me to my desk, and I go without protest, watching as he cleans up and heads out with the bag. I worry he won’t come back, but I relax when he does. Glancing at my computer, I carry on, wanting to get done as fast as I can now.
Mackie sprawls out on my sofa, and I eye him happily for a moment before focusing on the images. My eyes burn from the strain and low lighting, but I don’t stop until I’m done.
I attach the edited photos to the email and hit send, relief flooding me. Another job is done, which means I can spend time with Mackie.
Sitting back with a yawn, I log off my computer. “It’s done—” I stop as I notice Mackie. He’s curled up on his side with his hand under his cheek, and judging by his slow breathing, it’s clear he’s asleep. I should probably wake him, but he looks so fucking adorable. I stand and approach him before crouching and carefully tugging off his boots. He lets out a cute noise but goes back to sleep as I unfold the blanket on the back of the couch and drape it over him before sitting back on my heels.
I can’t leave him here, so I lower to my ass and lean against the sofa, watching him, but I must doze off because I wake when my head bangs into the cushion next to him. I wince and sit up. My ass and back ache. Mackie is still asleep, facing the back of the sofa now. I really don’t want to wake him, because he looks so peaceful, so I kick off my shoes and hesitate. I could sleep on the floor, but I can admit I don’t want to.
He might not appreciate it, but it doesn’t stop me.
Lifting the blanket, I slide in behind him, careful to leave some room between us so we aren’t touching, even if it means I’m almost falling off the edge of the couch. Despite how precariously I’m perched, I’ve never been happier. I can’t remember the last time I slept next to anybody. My bed has been cold and empty for years. It’s one of the reasons I usually crash here. It’s easier to forget when I’mexhausted, but at home, seeing the empty space where he should be, hurts. Right now, though, I’m not hurting, grieving, or lonely.
I’m happy.
My eyes open when he pushes back with a happy sigh, our bodies flush together as he turns his head, trying to get comfy. I lift my bent arm and slide it under his head like a cushion, and he presses closer, going back to sleep.
I wrap my free arm around him since he’s already touching me, and something deep inside me settles. A part of me is returning to life, and before I know it, I slip into a peaceful slumber, no nightmares in sight.
