Page 8 of Promises Kept

“Jesus, Alec, stop being so bloody holier than thou for Christ’s sake. Leave me be, will you? You’re not my bloody mother.” Dylan’s tone was ugly, and Alec winced at the cruel words coming out of his man’s mouth.

“You can be a right bastard, you know. I’m on my way, don’t worry,” Alec spat back. “Be sure to leave that damn monkey you have on your back at the door when you come to sleep though. The damn thing is too big for the three of us to fit into our bed.” He stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door.

He hated confrontations and fights. He could hold his own in a boardroom, or when negotiating with a crazy rock star, but when it came to his nearest and dearest, he was a bundle of spaghetti, unravelling at the first signs of an argument.

He’d had an ex-boyfriend, Lucas, who he’d been with for almost a year, and that man had put Alec through the wringer emotionally. He’d been sly, secretive, and a cheating arsehole. When Alec had finally found out about the other lovers, it had led to an epic fight, turning violent, and Alec was lucky he’d only sustained a broken rib. He’d sworn then that his next man would be someone who was open and able to talk about problems. Dylan had been that man, until tonight.

Alec sighed heavily as he undressed and got into bed.

Bearing in mind that Dylan was an open book, Alec supposed he’d better cut him some slack. This behaviour was unlike Dylan, and all Alec could hope was that in the morning things would be better and the love of his life would be able to talk about whatever was troubling him.

***

The next morning, after spending an uneasy night in the spare bedroom after imbibing far too many beers, Dylan was at the theatre closeted in his small office doing paperwork. His head was stuffy, the headache he had was debilitating to the extreme, and the ugly stain on his soul for what he’d said to Alec was still plastered like fading wallpaper to his heart.

I shouldn’t have said those things to him. God, I’m such a prick.

And all because something sacred from his past was being taken away. Alec hadn’t deserved Dylan’s bad mood, he’d known that the minute the first ugly words had left his mouth. The look of hurt on his lover’s face had Dylan closing his eyes in shame.

I railed on him for no good reason. I should be proud of the fact he’s doing so well in business, not making him feel bad about it.

He looked up as Barry came into the office. Barry was Dylan’s general factotum, all-around busybody, and a man who simply took over where others feared to tread. He was scary, respected, and Dylan couldn’t have managed a busy theatre like the Val without him.

“Dylan sweetie, the cursed Health and Safety executive called this morning—” He stopped dead and narrowed his kohl-lined eyes. “You look like something the cat barfed up then ate its own sick and barfed again. What the heck is the matter?” His high-pitched voice was solicitous in the extreme

The thought of the Health and Safety exec coupled with the image of a cat vomiting then eating its own mess made Dylan want to pull out the wastepaper basket and be sick himself. Not to mention Barry’s rather colourful dress sense of bright green trousers and checked purple and pink shirt gave Dylan an even worse headache. Christ, Barry looked like a demented walking rainbow.

Dylan valiantly forestalled the impulse to barf and scowled at Barry, but figured he needed to give some explanation so this wouldn’t turn into a Scotland Yard interrogation. “I went on a binge, and it didn’t work out too well.”

“Peppermint tea,” Barry proclaimed with a show of ivory teeth. “Always works for me. Want me to make you some?”

Dylan shook his head then wished he hadn’t as it nearly exploded. “No thanks. I’ll be fine.”

Barry snorted. “Does Alec look as bad as you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see him this morning.” Dylan passed a trembling hand across his eyes.

“Dylan Donahue!” Barry swooped over and laid a slender yet strong hand on Dylan’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. Dylan winced. “Please don’t tell me you were tomcatting around on Alec last night. That man has the patience of a saint putting up with you, and I will not stand for any hanky-panky. That man has been the best thing ever for you. Absolutely ever.”

Dylan waved an impatient hand at Barry to cut off the flow of words. “I mean we had a bit of a tiff last night and I slept in the spare room. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Barry tut-tutted and sat down in the chair opposite Dylan, crossing his legs daintily. Dylan groaned. I don’t fucking need this right now.

“Do tell.” Barry leaned forward with a vicarious gleam in his eyes. “You two hardly ever quarrel. You’re the poster couple for the gay man and his man. What brought this on then? Tell Uncle Barry.”

“Christ, Barry, we may have known each other ten bloody years but that doesn’t make you my Mother Confessor.” Dylan squinted at Barry. “Although you’d probably look good in a nun’s habit.” He snorted in amusement then winced as the pain hit his eyes.

Barry waved a flighty hand. “Darling, I look great in a nun’s habit. One of those with the fabric cut out over my arse so everything hangs out for all to see.”

Dylan felt ill, the thought of a cat eating its sick far preferable to the image Barry’s last words had conjured up.

Dylan leaned down on his desk and put his head on his forearms. “Go away,” he groaned from his muffled position. “Leave me in peace.”

“Dylan, darling.” Barry’s voice went deeper, softer. “Alec phoned me earlier. He said he didn’t see you this morning and he wanted to make sure you got here safely. He said you’d had quite a bit to drink last night. He sounded really worried.”

Dylan looked up and scowled ferociously. “So, you knew all the fucking time? You and Alec been swapping stories about what an arsehole I’ve been?”

“No, you wanker. He didn’t tell me anything other than you’d had an argument, you were upset about something, and he was worried. And yes, I knew about it before I came in. But I’m also in the acting biz, you know. I can get by with the act like the rest of them.”