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Maybe going wouldn’t be the worst thing, though; ease people into it by at least introducing myself as their friend.

Or maybe we should see if we can make it work before we bother getting anyone else involved in the first place.

Damn it, my head’s a mess. I really need more time to think.

“Great, I’ll send you the details,” Joey confirms. “Hopefully we’ll see you before then, but just in case.”

“Yeah, like Joey said, we’re not working this week, so let us know if it would be better to come to your place. We can bring you dinner or something so we can still see you,” Patrick adds.

“Okay, thanks,” I respond automatically, but I can’t help but focus on him pointing out that their offer is for this week. After that, we’ll have three schedules to figure out, all in wildly different industries. I work when I need to, often on weekends and at night. I’m assuming they have more typical hours, from what I remember, but I don’t actually know anymore.

“Want me to jump out with you and help you carry your bags in?” Joey offers as we approach my building; there hasn’t been any parking for blocks.

“Nah, I don’t have much,” I remind him.

“Okay. Fuck, I don’t know why I’m dreading this goodbye so much,” Joey admits. “I’m sure we’ll see you really soon; it’s just been so nice to be together all week.”

“It really has,” I agree wistfully.

“We’ll figure it out,” Patrick assures us, and I really wish I had his level of confidence. “I’m so glad you joined us this week. Best Christmas ever.”

Patrick is able to pull over enough so we’re not completely blocking traffic, and he leans in for a quick kiss, followed by another from Joey.

“Thank you both for the best week of my life,” I tell them honestly as I open the door to leave.

“Just the beginning,” Joey responds with a hopeful smile.

Patrick winks at me. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

I nod and shut the door behind me before rounding to the trunk to get my bags. They both wave goodbye and wait until I’m in my building to finally pull away despite someone honking at them. I chuckle as I climb the stairs to my unit, but by the time I make it into my apartment, I’m painfully aware of how alone I am. How quiet it is after my week full of laughter and easy conversation with two incredible people.

There really is so much I need to do, but instead, I leave my suitcase by the door and fall onto my bed with a heavy sigh as I dial Tara’s number.

She answers after the second ring. “Oh my god! He’s alive. You barely texted me. I was worried that you died from too much sex, or that they lured you there under false pretenses and you were actually a sacrifice to some gay god that keeps them both so good-looking.”

“Have you seen them recently? They’re somehow even more attractive than they were fifteen years ago,” I respond, not bothering with a greeting. “But yes, I’m alive. And you’re dramatic. It’s not like you sent me updates on your holiday.”

“I was with my parents,” she emphasizes. “Not two hot men who wanted to fuck me for a week straight. But enough small talk, how the hell was it? Are you glad you went?”

“Of course,” I respond automatically. I might be struggling with what happens next, but I could never regret going. “It was the best week of my life.”

“I want to hear everything.”

“I hope you have time, because I need to process,” I admit, and because I’m too impatient to wait until we’re together in person, I switch the call to FaceTime so I can see her full reactions, prop my phone up against a pillow, and tell her a very PG version of everything that happened. She has a lot of comments and questions, but by the time we get to them asking me on a real date for Christmas, she screams loudly into the phone.

After she collects herself, she adds, “I can’t believe you didn’t lead with that!”

“Well, I have no idea what I’m doing,” I admit.

“It sounds like you’re doing two sexy-as-fuck men at the same time,” she teases, and I snort a laugh. “But seriously, do you want me to come over tonight instead of in the morning? I can bring wine, and we can talk more.”

“No, that’s okay. I already told you everything there is to tell. Honestly, I think I just need to sleep.”

“Okay. Fine, be responsible,” she deadpans, and I laugh again. “But I will be there bright and early, and if there were any photos taken this week with them in it, I need to know what they look like now.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m really happy for you, Scotty,” she adds.