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“Will you help me brainstorm places where he might be held?” I asked instead.
“Why me?”
That was a question I could answer. “Because I trust you, Ensley.”
Because I want to know what could happen between us if we had one more hour, one more day, or one more week. But I couldn’t voice those truths, so I simply returned his smile.
On my suggestion, and because being outdoors during the daytime hampered my ability to concentrate, we returned to the mansion. Ensley didn’t question it, and I suspected he was still absorbing the bombshell I’d dropped on his head.
Having failed so tremendously at playing host the previous night, I’d grabbed a few items to perpetuate a human ruse.
“Would you like a beverage?”
“Um. Water would be great, and a towel if you have one.” Ensley removed the hair elastic from his bun. Wet strands hung in clumps around his face.
“Oh. Yes.”
Ensley followed me to the kitchen at the back of the house. He sat at the worktop island while I retrieved a bottle of water from a case, then excused myself to fetch a few towels.
When I returned, he motioned to the door leading to the basement.
“Did you find anything interesting down there?”
“Decades of filth, a few spider’s nests, and a chest of moth-eaten clothes.”
“Lovely.”
I took a seat instead of fetching the map of the city I’d purchased. Ensley’s uneasiness hadn’t lessened, and if I didn’t reassure him, I feared he might head for the door and never look back.
“Forgive me.” I touched his hand. “I never meant to be deceptive.”
“No, I… I get it.” He chuckled, but it was strained. “I’m still absorbing the shock. This is serious stuff, and I can see why you wouldn’t blurt it out the day we met. It does explain a few things.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not like other guys, Mordecai. I noticed it from day one.”
That was unnerving, especially since I tried so hard to act a part. “How so?”
“You’re… sophisticated.” He used my accent and smiled. “Um… refined? I don’t know.”
I scoffed. “Hardly.”
“You are. Even the way you talk is cultured. Old-fashioned, I guess. I don’t know if that’s the right word, but I get the sense we don’t move in the same social circles.”
“That we don’t, and be glad for it.”
Ensley slumped, every ounce of good humor evaporating. “I should have known you were too good to be true.”
“What does that mean?”
“Why would a guy like you be interested in a guy like me?”
“Why on earth wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m not exactly a catch. My dating history is… sad.”
“Then those men didn’t see what I see. You’re down to earth, Ensley. You don’t put on airs. You’re not pretending to be someone you’re not. You’re funny, sensitive, honest, and…” A plethora of other adjectives I couldn’t summon the courage to say.
