A few too many beats late, he answered, “We’ve had the shoot on the books for months, but the talent who was supposed to take the job left at the last minute.”
“Left?” Desmond frowned. “Left the shoot or…left?”
Without warning, they were right up against the line between gloomy reality and blissful fantasy that they’d said they didn’t want to cross. The way that line and Desmond’s question rankled him proved exactly why they needed the separation between weekday and weekend to begin with.
“You know what, honey, I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said. “That’s week stuff, and the weekend is almost here.”
For the first time in the nearly three months that they’d been carrying on, saying that filled Javier with a biting sense of guilt. He was holding things back from Desmond, from the man hewas not too proud to admit he was falling head over heels in love with. What had felt like a fun game before suddenly hit him like deception.
But it wasn’t deception, he reminded himself. They’d both agreed to keep their lives separate from their time together. Dumping his troubles on Desmond’s shoulders would be just as morally dubious as asking the man for money to keep his business going. Sorry, Maisy, but he still wasn’t going to do that. He still didn’t want to be Matthew.
“So Angus isn’t an ex,” he said, contradicting every damn thing he’d just thought to himself. “but have you heard anything lately from your actual ex?”
Part of Javier immediately wanted to take the question back. It was none of his business. Matthew wasn’t a part of what they had. He wanted to keep all the good things between them as pure as he could.
But way back in the deepest recesses of his mind, it had occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, there was a connection between the vicious, gaslighting ex and some of the nasty and unfounded rumors Ryan Hawthorne had mentioned. Matthew didn’t have anything to do with the fashion or entertainment world as far as he knew, but the man was determined enough to hire a singing Cupid telegram to woo Desmond back. Who knew what sort of deviousness someone who could do that was capable of?
“I have not,” Desmond said after chewing a bite, then starting to wrap up the remains of his lunch. “I blocked his number and changed the locks.”
Javier’s brow shot up as he took a sip of his drink. Once he swallowed, he asked, “Has he tried to get into your house?”
“No,” Desmond said, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I changed the locks months ago. I was using it more as a metaphor.”
“Oh, I see.” Javier grinned, wishing to find a way back to the easy rapport they’d had while walking earlier. “I guess I won’t worry about him, then. I’ll worry about the gorgeous Scotsman who was clearly eyeing you up and looking for a repeat of whatever you had going on that was not dating, instead.”
It was a joke, but Desmond paled a little instead of laughing. “It was nothing, really. I don’t want to talk about it.”
It was something. Javier was sure of it. But just like he didn’t want to burden Desmond with the shitstorm that was his failing agency, he didn’t think he had the right to ask what the something was. They’d made an agreement, so the only thing he could do was nod and suck some more soda through his straw until he reached the bottom of the cup and made that annoying slurping sound.
What had possessed them to make their stupid agreement to be boyfriends on the weekend only? It had seemed like fun and escapism at the time, but now it was getting in the way of Javier’s bone-deep need to take care of Desmond and make sure no one like Matthew ever hurt him again.
“You’d let me know, wouldn’t you?” he said carefully, looking earnestly at Desmond. “If it’s a real problem? If this Angus guy is as bad as Matthew.”
Desmond sighed with annoyance that covered over a deeper tension. “If you must know, Angus McTavish is a senior partner at my company’s biggest competitor, Goulding McTavish. Our two companies are competing for an important deal with a Chinese company that could bring in a great deal of money for whichever company wins it.”
Javier’s eyebrows shot up again, particularly since Desmond didn’t look him in the eye as he gave his explanation. “But there was something between the two of you at some point,” he stated rather than asked.
Desmond huffed an exasperated breath and met his gaze. “I am willing to break the fourth wall only to say yes.”
Javier smiled apologetically and rested a hand on Desmond’s thigh. “I’m sorry, baby. I really didn’t mean to pry. You just looked a little stressed while talking to him, and I’ve always got this overwhelming urge to take care of you and make sure everything’s alright.”
The tightness around Desmond’s mouth and eyes softened into affection. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m not used to having anyone looking out for my best interest.”
That nearly broke Javier’s heart. Des needed someone to look after him. More than maybe, he knew. All the time, not just on weekends. And Javier definitely wanted that job.
That didn’t mean that he knew what to say in the wake of their near-argument, though. They both just sat there for a moment, reeling a little under the weight of coming so close to the forbidden territory of the rest of their lives.
Which was when Javier noticed a little girl in a school uniform who was probably about eight standing not far from their bench, looking like she was about to have a breakdown.
Desmond wasn’t the only one who needed taking care of.
“Honey, are you lost?” Javier asked as he gathered the remnants of his lunch, stood, and walked over to a nearby bin to dispose of it. Desmond followed suit.
The girl sniffed and wiped her eyes, watching Javier like she didn’t know whether to panic or run to him for help. Finally, she half-sobbed, “Yes.”
Javier brushed his hands off, glanced to Desmond for a moment, then approached the girl slowly with a smile. “Are you here on a school trip?” he asked, crouching down to be at her level.
The girl nodded and wiped more tears.
