Finally, Javier broke the tension by blowing out a breath through his nose and rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “I think I’m going to go home,” he said.
Desmond’s eyes went wide with panic. “It’s Friday night.”
“I know,” Javier said quietly, staring at one of the buttons on Desmond’s shirt. “I think I need some space to think about everything. Just space.” He glanced up and met Desmond’seyes. “We’ve pretty much smashed the whole weekends only boyfriend thing anyhow. Tonight has been a lot, and I don’t think I’m in a place to make any smart decisions at the moment.”
“Neither am I,” Desmond mumbled.
“And I don’t want to make any wrong decisions because of it.”
Desmond nodded, sad and ashamed. But he had to admit that Javier’s understanding of both their mental states was exactly the sort of maturity they both needed at the moment.
All the same, it hurt.
Javier must have seen the pain in Desmond’s eyes. He sighed, then hooked a hand around Desmond’s neck and leaned in to kiss him chastely on the lips. “Let’s just take this weekend to sort our heads out, okay?”
Des somehow managed a watery smile. “Okay,” he whispered in reply, blinking rapidly.
“I’ll call you once the dust settles,” Javier said, then let go of him and moved toward the hall. “Until then, get some sleep and try not to think about everything too much. You’re a good man, Desmond White. You just need to believe it.”
Of all the words for Javier to leave him with.
Desmond could only stand there, fighting not to cry, as he listened to Javier walk down the hall then out the door. Once he was gone, Desmond turned back to the tea that never got made on the counter, praying that he hadn’t just ruined everything.
seventeen
. . .
“Iswear, Javier, it’s nothing personal,” Elaina said, tears in her eyes as she stood in front of Javier’s desk, clutching her purse to her chest like it was her emotional support accessory. “You just haven’t been able to find the sort of job for me that will build my career, and Waverly and Marsh can.”
Javier sighed and slumped back in his chair, trying to smile so Elaina wouldn’t burst into tears outright. “I know, I know,” he said. “And I don’t blame you or hold anything against you at all.”
“Really?” Elaina asked, blinking her watery eyes. “Because I know I’m not the only model that’s jumping ship. I know a bunch of us have.”
She wasn’t lying. Since coming in on Monday after the roughest weekend of his life, Javier had had three of his models tell him they weren’t renewing their contracts. One had asked to be let out of his immediately. And it was only Wednesday.
“You have to do what’s best for your career,” he told Elaina, trying to sound like the wise older brother who only wanted what was best for her. “This is the best move for you.”
“Thanks for understanding,” Elaina said, hugged her bag tighter, then rushed forward so she could throw her arms around Javier.
Javier stood so their hug wouldn’t be awkward. Elaina was sweet, and he appreciated her goodwill. That made it easier to hug her back, then to say a few parting words as she dashed out of the office.
Once she was gone, though, he flopped back into his chair and looked at the mountain of exit paperwork on his desk. That was it. He couldn’t avoid the truth or dodge his way out of the mess he was in anymore. Rivera Talent was essentially over.
It was a horrible feeling. He’d thrown everything he had into the agency and it just hadn’t worked out. As far as he could say, he’d done almost everything right. He’d sought out the best people to work with, both in terms of clients and talent. He’d worked nights and weekends, until he met Desmond, to try to get everything off the ground. He really had given it his all.
But sometimes his all wasn’t good enough.
Even thinking that hurt. Mostly because it wasn’t his agency that had him brokenhearted. Businesses came and went. Like restaurants, most new talent agencies didn’t last more than a few years unless they were extraordinarily lucky. He’d known from the word go things might not work out.
What really had him heartbroken was that he hadn’t heard a single thing from Desmond since walking out of the man’s house on Friday evening.
It was the first weekend in three months when he didn’t have somewhere to go and something, or rather someone, to do. He’d wandered around his apartment all day on Saturday and Sunday uncertain what to do with himself. He’d tried watching the telly, but nothing held his attention. He’d gone for a walk, but barely saw anything around him. He’d even headed toward the West End with the intention of picking up last-minute tickets for ashow, any show, but nothing had really grabbed him, so he’d turned around and gone home.
Without Desmond, he was lost. And that was completely unexpected. Whether it was fair of him or not, he kind of expected Desmond would be the one to drift around like a leaf in a stream when the two of them were on a break. But no, there he was, bumbling through his days, his business failing around him, without a clue what to do with himself.
“You got a minute?” Maisy asked as she knocked on his doorframe, then walked all the way into the office.
“It’s starting to look like I have a lot of minutes,” Javier sighed, pushing himself to sit straighter in his chair.
