“I think they need me backstage,” Desmond said, though he didn’t pull his arm away from Javier’s touch.
“I know,” Javier said, closing his eyes for a moment and marshalling his thoughts, “but there’s something going on here, and I’m really worried about it. I’m worried about you.”
At last, Desmond pulled his arm away. “You shouldn’t worry about me,” he said.
That wasn’t quite what Javier expected him to say.
“The trouble is, I’m already worried,” he said, looking Desmond seriously in the eyes.
Des glanced away, his face coloring, but he remained silent.
“I know this has something to do with that Angus guy,” he said, inching closer. When Desmond glanced up at him, he went on with, “Honey, you know I don’t care about any relationships you’ve had in the past. You could have screwed the entire Arsenal football team in a rooftop pool orgy and I wouldn’t care, as long as you had fun.”
Desmond’s brow shot up as if that was the last thing he expected Javier to say. They were definitely surprising each other tonight, which shouldn’t have happened. “He’s my competition,” Desmond said.
Javier shifted his weight and leaned as close to Desmond as he could. “Listen, while I may not be proud of it, I have been known to do the horizontal tango with a guy I was in direct competition with for a spot walking in fashion week,” he said. “And there may have been a time or two when I was in the middle of a fuck sandwich. We’ve all been there. Who you get your rocks off with and how is nobody’s business but your own.”
Desmond looked gobsmacked. Which would have been funny if it meant the whole guilty tension thing was resolved. But Desmond continued to look like he’d killed someone’s puppy.
“There’s more to it than that,” he said, though Javier could have told him that without needing to hear the words spoken. “I—I haven’t been honest,” he said, lowering his eyes. “And I know how much you value integrity.”
“I do, but?—”
“Mr. White.” The awards coordinator came back to fetch Desmond. “We need you.”
Desmond sent Javier a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry,” he said with far too much finality, then left Javier to head backstage.
For a few seconds, Javier could only stand there and gape at Desmond’s back like a fish gasping for breath, prickles of doom racing through him. He still had no idea what was going on or what had put the hangdog expression on his lover’s face. He honestly didn’t care who Desmond had fucked in the past. They were both grown adults in their early thirties, which meant there were inevitably skeletons in the closet and dust bunnies swept under the carpet.
It had to be something else. Something bigger and more awful had Desmond tied in knots, and it hurt Javier to be shut out.
He didn’t want to be on the outside of Desmond’s life. He didn’t want to just be boyfriends on the weekend, hiding from their troubles and failing to do the one thing that would probably make everything easier for both of them, relying on each other.
It was more than just that. As he took a few listless steps back until he could lean against the wall, arms dropped limply by his sides, he realized that he cared more about doing whatever he could to wipe the strained and miserable look from his lover’s face than he did about saving his agency. Jobs would come and go, but there would never be anyone like Desmond in his life again.
“Shit,” he hissed as that mountain came tumbling down on him. He loved Desmond. Not just for pretend and on weekends only. He loved him full-time and wanted to be a part of whatever it was he was going through. More than that, he owed it to Desmond to let him in all the way, too. The business of his dreams was failing a little more every day, but he could endure that.
He couldn’t handle things with Desmond falling apart.
“So you’re still sniffing around, are you?”
Javier jerked to stand straight and step away from the wall. The voice that pierced his spiraling thoughts was familiar, and when he turned, he saw Matthew sauntering toward him, a smarmy look on his face.
“I heard you were here,” he said, scowling at the arsehole.
Matthew smirked and came to stand by Javier’s side. “I’m always here. This is my spot. You’re in it.”
“I don’t think so.” Javier stood even taller so he could look down on the man. “Whatever claim you had on Desmond, it’s in the past.” He was tempted to say Desmond was his now, but instead he said, “Desmond is his own man and can stand on his own two feet.”
“Oh, really?” Matthew snorted a laugh. “You really think that?”
“I know it,” Javier said, crossing his arms. “I also know that you shouldn’t even be here. Isn’t Pickering Jones suing you for something?”
“They can’t prove anything. My lawyer is going to make sure the lawsuit is dropped,” Matthew said with a shrug. “I’m here on behalf of my new company.”
“Good for you,” Javier said, arching one eyebrow then trying to turn away.
“I think it’s pretty rich that the Peabody Honors are giving Desmond an award for being an ethical businessman, don’t you?” Matthew called after him.
