And that was that. They slid into morning roles as easily as the butter spread across the toast Javier made as Desmond put the bacon under the grill and fried several eggs. Expertly, Javier noted.
“You’re an amazing cook,” he complimented his temporary honey once they were seated at the small table in a nook beside the windows, eating the fruits of their labor.
“Yes, I always found cooking to be soothing,” Desmond said, still in his apron, relaxing more by the second. “I once had a therapist tell me to lean into that and to cook more to counteract my high-stress job.”
“And do you?” Javier asked, hoping he could keep the conversation going as long as possible.
“I do,” Desmond said, mopping up egg yolk with the last of his toast. He smiled suddenly and glanced up at Javier. “I’ll cook a special Valentine’s Day supper for you tonight to show off.”
A thousand more squidgey feelings shot through Javier’s gut. A few of them were guilt.
“I should probably go at some point,” he said, not liking the way those words tasted. “You’re probably more than ready to get rid of me.”
Desmond’s face pinked a little as he stared at Javier for a moment then said, “I couldn’t possibly kick my boyfriend out on Valentine’s Day.”
A slow smile spread across Javier’s face. So they were still pretending, were they? Strangely, he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind one bit. Part of him wanted to see how far they could take their little make-believe session.
“Do you need help washing up, sweetie?” he asked the way he would ask someone he’d actually been dating for months as he set his fork down on his plate.
“I will never say no to help washing up,” Desmond answered him with a broad smile.
And that was how it started. The two of them got up and worked together to clean up all the breakfast dishes, load the dishwasher, and wipe the counters and table. As they did, Desmond talked about a few of his favorite things to cook and made suggestions for supper that night. They checked the fridge, which was surprisingly well-stocked, and came up with a menu together.
After that, they headed upstairs, where the two of them went through Desmond’s wardrobe and bureau, searching for more casual clothes that Javier could change into. Javier’s legs were miles longer than Desmond’s, but their torsos were roughly the same size. Desmond’s t-shirts fit him, and even though Javier looked more than a little like he was wearing the sort of short trousers boys wore in the 19thcentury, they found a pair of sweatpants that fit well-enough.
Javier showered using Desmond’s grooming products and brushed his teeth with a spare, unused toothbrush, then Desmond took his turn while Javier set to work seriously rearranging the wardrobe, like he’d wanted to do the night before. Once Desmond was clean and dressed, he helped with the whole process.
It was all completely, boringly normal, and yet it filled Javier with a contentment he hadn’t felt in so long it was like he was experiencing the emotion for the first time. He’d been wildly busy building his agency for more than a year now and hadn’t had time to date. Now he was beginning to second-guess that self-imposed dry spell in the name of ambition.
Then again, as he handed various items of clothing to Desmond to hold while he sorted and rearranged, the thought of dating, or even hooking up with any other man didn’t have nearly as much appeal as it might have otherwise.
“Do you want to do the linen closets now that your wardrobe is arranged correctly?” Javier asked, half teasing, half deadly serious, once they were done. Anything to keep their boyfriend fantasy going.
“Actually,” Desmond said, brightening in a way Javier couldn’t quite put his finger on, “I’ve got something else to show you.”
Part of Javier wanted to answer, “I hope it’s those cute little buns of yours,” but weirdly enough, the timing wasn’t right yet.
Instead, he followed Desmond downstairs and back to the kitchen. Now that the sun was up, Javier was surprised to see that the window they’d been sitting next to during breakfast didn’t lead straight out into a back garden, it led into an amazing glass sunroom.
“This is gorgeous,” Javier said as they walked out into the heart of the magical space.
It wasn’t the sort of chilly sunroom with moisture trapped between the double-glazing and a few withered plants in the corners that most people he knew had. It was a miniature paradise that would have made Monty Don proud. Heat came from somewhere, and the dozens, maybe hundreds, of plants placed aesthetically throughout the greenhouse seemed to love it.
As it was the end of winter, most of the plants were green and not flowering. The space contained everything from small palms and shiny, tropical greenery to more delicate ferns and ivies. There was even a water feature off to one side that made a soothing, trickling sound. In the middle of the space was a wicker couch and two chairs, all with plush cushions, and a low table. It gave the place more of a conservatory feel than just a dozy sunroom.
“This is my favorite part of the house,” Desmond said, coming up to stand beside Javier, looking around at his sanctuary with a smile. “Matthew hated it of course and said it was a waste of time. He used to?—”
“Honey, don’t you know it’s bad manners to talk about your ex in front of your new boyfriend?” Javier stopped him. He didn’t do it so much out of jealousy, at least, he didn’t think he was jealous, but more because he was tired of someone as kind and generous as Desmond being held prisoner by a toxic ex.
If it was the last thing Javier did, he would get Desmond to shake Matthew’s dust from his feet and move on. Even if the man didn’t move on with him.
Although he wouldn’t say no to Desmond moving on with him.
“Sorry,” Desmond said with a sheepish smile. “Old habits and all that.”
“You’re not with him anymore,” Javier said, turning to face Desmond and to meet his eyes with a look that demanded Desmond listen to him. “You don’t owe Matthew anything. I know you feel responsible for him somehow—” Desmond’s face pinched for a second, “—but that’s all in the past now. The man made you sick on purpose last night. Someone like that doesn’t deserve the time of day from you.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Desmond said like he wanted to believe it but wasn’t sure he could.
