Page 118 of If the World Was Ending

When they got back to the apartment, Colby stopped at the foot of the stairs that led up to Catherine’s apartment. “I should go?”

It was a question, even though they both knew the answer was yes. Colby should leave and go back to his hotel room. Alone. Hunter stared at him. When he looked at Colby, he didn’t want to cry. His heart still felt like it was in a million pieces, but it also felt like, when Colby was near, those pieces were being carefully held, not lying scattered around his cold, dark insides. “Stay.”

Colby nodded and followed Hunter, who was following Manuel, up the stairs.

Chapter 39

Bi would’ve been fine

The next morning Hunter woke up with his head on Colby’s bicep instead of a pillow, and one of Colby’s legs was draped over him. He was facing Hunter, his mouth slightly open, sawing in heavy breaths that were almost a snore. Colby’s golden brown eyelashes fluttered every now and then. Zeus was sleeping on the corner of the bed, curled into a big black ball. They’d kicked the sheets off at some point, so it was just them, in their boxer briefs and nothing else. And if heaven existed, this was what it would be like for Hunter.

They’d spent the night like they were now, wrapped up in each other, hardly speaking and not doing anything else but holding on. Hunter hadn’t fallen asleep for a long time, so this morning he was a little blurry-eyed. He knew Colby must be exhausted, and that he had a flight back to Los Angeles tonight, so he was careful not to wake him as he slid off the bed. He glanced at his phone on the charger and saw forty-six messages waiting. Colby’s had an alert on the screen. A message from Ford. He left both phones on the nightstand, grabbed a pair of sweats and his Tidal concert tee, and slipped out of the room.

His dad was at the front door accepting a giant bouquet of beautiful flowers from a delivery guy. He kicked the door closed with his foot, and Hunter cleared off the kitchen island so he had somewhere to put them. “These are magnificent.”

Hunter nodded and plucked the card from the center. He had no idea who they might be from. They’d already received a bunch of flowers and a lot of people had donated in Catherine’s memory to the breast cancer foundations they’d requested in the obituary. He had to read the card twice for it to register.

Hunter,

My thoughts are with you and your dad. I lost my mom when I was about your age, and although everyone’s grief is unique, I’m here to talk if you need to. About this or anything.

Deepest Sympathies,

Margo

“It’s my old agent,” Hunter said and smiled. “Fuck I miss her.”

“So hire her back. You can do that, right?” Greg asked. “Are there terms on how long you have to stay with the one you got? I don’t know how this works.”

Hunter put the card on the island countertop and walked over to the coffee maker. “There aren’t any terms, but it’s not that simple. I’m with a huge agency now, with a lot of clout and manpower to handle my type of deals.”

“Do you like your current agent?” Greg asked. “Because he didn’t send flowers.”

“No. He did send a text,” Hunter said, knowing full well that didn’t compare. “I don’t think he has this address.”

“But she did. And you haven’t been her client for months, right?”

“A year and change.” He pulled down three mugs from the cupboard above the coffee machine as he waited for it to heat up. “Anyway, Marge… Margo would have to want me back. She’s doing fine with the clients she has, and I can’t dump Lorne if I don’t have somewhere to go. I don’t get work without an agent.”

He took the beans his mother stored in a ceramic mason jar and put them in the grinder. It wasn’t until the coffee was brewing that Hunter realized his dad wasn’t talking and was simply studying him. “What?”

“Are we going to discuss the Oscar-winning musician-sized elephant in the room?” his dad asked.

Hunter froze, grateful for the loud whirl of the coffee machine as it brewed their espresso shots, so his father wouldn’t hear his heart start to pound. He couldn’t decide if this was the worst time or the best time to reveal his sexuality. They were so raw from his mom’s death, so what was one more blow? Would it be a blow? And if it was, would it break apart the relationship with his last living parent?

“He’s my best friend.” Hunter wasn’t chickening out, he was testing the water. “He means a lot to me.”

“Remember, Guy? Guy MacPherson?” his dad asked, and Hunter glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “He’s been my best friend since my McGill days. I’ve never looked at him like you look at Colby.”

Hunter forced his eyes to stay on his dad and, through his panic, tried to read him. He didn’t look upset. Maybe a little shocked, but not upset. Definitely not angry, as there was a hint of a smile on his face. Maybe? Or was that Hunter’s anxiety playing tricks on him? “He was my roommate for a while too.”

“Yeah. Okay.” His dad nodded. “And now he’s… something else, isn’t he?”

Hunter didn’t respond and instead frothed the milk with his full attention, like it was the most complex task known to man. When he finally poured it over their mugs of espresso and carried them to the island, he had to work to keep his hands from shaking. Why was this so hard? His father took the mug with a thankful smile and reached for the sugar that his mom always kept in one of those diner-style dispensers. “Now he’s nothing. He isn’t my roommate anymore. And he can’t be my best friend because…” Hunter took a deep, steadying breath and held it. “Because we can’t be around each other without people noticing we look at each other like we’re madly in love.”

“Because you are?” his dad asked, the sugar frozen in his hand above his coffee.

“I am,” Hunter whispered, and when his dad put down the sugar and reached across the island to squeeze his shoulder, he finally exhaled.