Page 38 of Emil

“An office rule?”

“If it helps you to think of it that way, sure.”

Anders’s breath hitched, but as much as I wanted to understand it, I didn’t want to push him too far. And truthfully, I needed to clarify with myself what I was doing.

It truly was a workroom night. And that was before I told him about the dinner invitation.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ANDERS

“Hello. Sorry I’m late. Traffic caught up with me.”

The server had told me they’d been waiting about twenty minutes. Dammit. I hated keeping people waiting, and it felt heavier when it was Emil. Because he was my boss, of course. He hadn’t mentioned my breakdown from the other day, and thank God for that. It had been precisely what I’d needed in the moment, but not something I wanted to talk about afterward.

I hoped I sounded more put together than I felt on the inside. When Emil told me his friends had invited us to dinner, I’d been a little confused. Why they’d ask him was obvious, but I wasn’t sure why they’d included me. He’d given me the option of declining, but he’d also said he hoped I would accept.

I knew without question that Emil was nothing like John. Still, this was precisely the kind of catch-22 John used to test me with. Tell me it wasn’t required, then punish me for choosing the wrong option. I was trying hard to keep Emil and John separate in my head and not transfer what one would have done onto the other.

I said yes because… Well, I didn’t really know why I said yes, but I did. It was Quill. It would be fine. Worst-case scenario, if something went wrong, I’d hide in the back and get rescued by a frantic call to someone in the group chat.

“Traffic is terrible today. Please don’t apologize for that,” said the younger man at the table. His hair was a riot of curls that reminded me of my friend Jakob. They shared the same kind of innocence. He had a kind smile. Friendly too, but mostly kind.

Beside him, a more stoic man sat watching me. His expression was guarded and reserved, but not unkind. His eyes were very much like Emil’s, which made them hard to read, except when he glanced at the man beside him. Then his mouth turned up and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He kept his hand over the younger man’s. It was sweet and protective. He might not be sure of me, but my gut said he was a good man. Maybe just not an overly friendly one.

“Anders, this is Cal and his boyfriend Micah. This is my friend Anders.”

Friend.

My heart thumped against my rib cage at the word. Not employee. Not coworker or colleague. Friend. That word was loaded.

“It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you for inviting me.”

Emil stood, pulled out my chair, and helped scoot it in as I sat. It felt odd, but not in a bad way. Having him pay this much attention to me was unfamiliar. I didn’t really understand it, but it gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling, so I decided not to question it too hard. There would be plenty of time to overanalyze later.

“This is one of our favorite restaurants,” Micah said. “Have you been here before? If you haven’t, you’re in for a treat. And if you have, then you already know how fantastic it is.”

“Yes, several times, and it’s always been fantastic. I was excited when Emil said this is where we were going.”

Emil handed me a menu, and I studied it even though I knew it by heart. It gave me something to do with my hands. I shot him an appreciative look, and he smiled back. My heart, which had been pounding, calmed just a little.

“Daddy, I’m torn between two choices, and I don’t know which to pick,” Micah said with a small laugh.

Then he froze.

His menu lowered slowly, and his horrified gaze darted between his apparent Daddy and me. “I mean. Uh…”

“I’m sure that’s something your Daddy can help you figure out,” I said gently. “I have several friends who have Daddies, and they’re always happy to help when decisions like that come up.”

Micah relaxed a fraction. Cal’s fingers tightened briefly around his hand.

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better,” Micah said. “But I should apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just a silly nickname.”

“It’s absolutely fine,” I said. “I don’t have a Daddy, but I promise it doesn’t bother me in the least if you call him that.”

“Okay, well,” Micah said. “I’m going to move on before I say something more embarrassing.” He took a breath, shot me a big but still trembling smile, and added, “Are you a local?”

“I am.” It was hard to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. “I grew up near the end of 176th. My mom still lives over there.”