“And you’re a smug, jealous ass. At least we know.” Clinking my glass to his, I throw it back, and we stare at each other. He isn’t a bad guy, and he cares for Mackie. I’ve been testing him, and it’s clear he isn’t going anywhere.
He was faithful and dedicated to his husband, even after his death. Someone like that . . . Well, he will be the same to Mackie. He’ll look after him no matter what, even if things get hard. I feel a little better, so I sit back, looking to see if Mackie is coming.
“Honestly, I’m kind of relieved,” I murmur, hating that I’m telling him this, but I need him to understand for when the time comes. “I feel a bit better knowing he has you too.”
“What? Why?” he asks, completely thrown.
Debating how to say this, I stare at my glass. “Just . . . I do. You can be there for him when I can’t be. You can take care of him when I can’t. You can heal his heart and help him move forward.”
Conan can love and protect him when I’m gone.
I was always so scared to break Mackie’s heart, knowing it would ruin him when I die, but knowing Conan will be there after I am gone relieves some of that tension. It will still hurt, but he won’t be alone. He won’t have to go through it by himself. “Just promise me.” I lift my eyes. “Promise me no matter what, you’ll stick by his side, even if he pushes you away. You’ll stay, and you’ll love him and look after him.”
“And where would you be?” he asks, far too sharp.
“Promise me, and I promise to try not to be a jealous ass.”
His eyes tighten. “I promise, and you aren’t a jealous ass?”
“I said try,” I grumble, and he chuckles as he toasts me and throws his drink back.
“And I’ll try not to be a jealous ass too.”
The waiter arrives, and I go to order for Mackie, knowing his favorites, but I glance at Conan. “Why don’t you order? Mackie loves the burgers here, but he hates pickles and loves their cheesy fries, even if he says he doesn’t want them. He will never order it himself, but the pink soda mix is his favorite.”
Conan watches me with confusion before he smiles. “Thank you.”
I shrug. “You should know.” I don’t finish that sentence, but he should know for when I’m gone. Someone should remember Mackie’s favorites and order them for him when I can’t be here to do it.
I watch Conan order and nod. He finishes just as Mackie comes back. His eyes are a little red, but he doesn’t look upset as he sits. “I know this is hard, and I don’t expect you to get along all the time, but I’d like to get through this without someone dying or getting upset, okay?” he rushes out.
“We already came to an agreement, baby, so stop stressing.” I smile as I take his hand and place a soft kiss on it. “Okay?”
“You did?” He swings his hopeful eyes between us, and that tells me we’ve done the right thing.
“We did.” Conan nods. “No murder, at least not today.”
Mackie slumps, his relief palpable, and that damn smile tilts his lips, showcasing his dimples. Conan and I share the same lost, defeated look. I can’t help but laugh since we both have the same reaction, and he joins in.
“What?” Mackie asks, looking confused. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I reply as I kiss his hand again. “You’re just so cute.”
“Shut up,” he grumbles just as his pink soda arrives, and his eyes widen. “My favorite!”
I give Conan anI told you solook, and he rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. He leans in and tastes it when Mackie offers him a sip. As I lean back in my seat and watch them, some of my jealousy dissipates. Seeing it and imagining it are different. Mackie looks so happyand comfortable that no matter how jealous and angry I want to be, I can’t.
He’s happy, and I want the person I love to be happy. It’s that simple.
It seems the more I drink, the more Conan does, like we are in a silent battle. Or maybe, like me, he’s fighting off the need to pounce on Mackie, who is just too fucking cute as he eats, completely oblivious of the effect he has on us.
Does he even know he has us both wrapped around his little finger?
Doubtful.
“The burger is so good today.” He moans, and the sound goes right to my dick. It sounds like the noise he makes when I’m deep inside him, and I have to shift to relieve some of the pressure on my rock-hard cock. “Can I try your taco?” he asks, and I shove my plate toward him. He can have it all if he keeps looking at me like that. I don’t need to eat. It’s fine.
He takes a bite and moans as he sits back. “Oh, that is so good,” he murmurs. I swipe my thumb across his mouth and lick away the sauce as his eyes blow, desire flaming to life. Good, he should be suffering as much as I am.
