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“Ambrose.”
“I’m serious. None of my little endeavors are equal to what you do day in and day out.”
“Stop. Stop it.” The bigger man slid to the edge of the couch and leaned into Ambrose’s space as he hunched over his cup. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not.” He could feel anger begin to bubble in his gut. This was not the conversation he wanted to have today; now or later. Not tomorrow, not next week. Not ever. He was still picking apart the knots of his mother’s career of slights and vitriol and maybe they’d never fully unravel. But that was his territory to claim, and nothing to do with Barrett. He got to his feet in a single huff, feeling his face twist out of a moue of distaste, to grab a small paperclipped bundle of pages from the kitchen table. Sharing good news was better than most things, especially his own fallacies and emotional hangups. “Here. From Raf.”
Pages of rendered book layouts were thrust into Barrett’s vision. “These ain’t getting you off the hook, Ambrose,” he muttered, but the little smile on his face as he flipped through the papers was its own story. “But hells. Really?” Barrett held up one of the page spreads; one Ambrose especially liked, as it featured long lines of wisteria and lilac paired with the pop of crocus and foxglove. Pretty in purples and blues and yellows, spring personified on two pages. “This is incredible. Huh.”
“What?”
Barrett shook his head. His voice went quiet, almost stunned, as he said, “Perry would have loved this. You’re doing right by him, and you didn’t even know him.”
If his heart could have sprouted wings and taken off in joyful flight, it would have. Barrett was staring at him hard now. Having all that attention focused on him in such a way usually made Ambrose want to find a dark corner in which to hide. But Barrett had a way at looking at you with raw, unfiltered emotion and it left him feeling…
Off-kilter. Off balance. A little bit as if he were on uneven ground.
“It’s nothing,” he said, trying not to beAmbroseand make his tone snap out of embarrassment.
“It’s not.” Barrett’s tone had turned emphatic and now he was on his feet, the page hovering in front of Ambrose’s face. There was no anger in the motion but Ambrose had to quell the urge to recoil anyways. “It’s not ‘nothing’.” His voice broke. “Perry was a good man. A good friend. But he had no one.”
“He had you.” A solid knot of emotion was forming in his chest.
“He did. And then he had a heart attack and he was just gone and….” Barrett’s eyes were wet as he turned away, motioning at the house. “And I thought coming back in here after someone else bought the place would be too much. But the house isn’t his memory.” He shook the page gently. “This is.”
When Barrett stepped closer and looked down at him, Ambrose had to take in a shuddering breath. Carefully, his fingers trembling, Barrett handed back the pages. The rawness of the emotion on his face was nearly too much to bear, but Ambrose was rooted to the spot; sunken into dark brown eyes that swirled with unspoken emotion.
In his head, Ambrose was bolder, braver. Willing to lean in those last few inches and take the thing he was at least seventy-five percent sure Barrett was offering. He’d pull Barrett to him, hands cold with nerves but the rest of him onfire, and find out how that beard felt against the sensitive skin of his face.
He should do it.
But a hug was okay, too. Barrett pulled him in for the kind of touch that made some part of him curl up in a happy, sated ball. Maybe he was touch starved, maybe it was the slowly abating loneliness. Maybe it was because Barrett was a genuinely good guy and Ambrose was happy to have him near, no matter the context. But his friend (hisfriendand wasn’t that an amazing thing to be able to say and think andfeel, like a drumbeat) smelled like the outdoors and wood smoke and Dandi’s warm fur and he wanted to keep that close to him. Wrap himself up in it.
Ambrosewantedand he practically burned with it. Being held in Barrett’s arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world made his head spin. But then Barrett said, “Thanks, Ambrose,” near his ear, beard brushing his jaw, and his knees turned to water.
“Yeah. Sure.” That was all he could manage until Barrett stepped back and he saw the bit of red on the other man’s cheeks. Maybe Barrett felt something similar?
“Ah, hell.” Barrett held up his buzzing phone. “Time got away from me. I appreciate you listening. Really.”
Ambrose swallowed away the lump in his throat. “Take your time with the pages. Anything you want to approve, just mark in the corner on the box that’s there. Note any changes you want. Raf will send you the contract.”
Barrett frowned, his thick eyebrows nearly drawing into a vee. “Contract? Shit, I didn’t even think about that.”
“He’ll go over it with you, but I know he’ll also recommend getting an attorney to review it.”
Barrett chuckled. “Well that’s awfully sporting of him.”
“Raf’s not interested in ripping people off, and he’s pretty choosy who he works with.”
That little smile was back. “Guessing your recommendation helps.”
“Maybe.” But he felt his own smile spread across his face, wide and open. Hopeful.
“Don’t play coy, Tillifer.” Barrett called for Dandi and moved toward the door. “Thanks again. I know that sounds like it’s not enough appreciation, but I really mean it.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go get about two hours of sleep and then drag myself through today. Get some sleep, Ambrose.”
“Thanks.” Ambrose meant it, wished he had more words to give Barrett more than just that.
And with the papers under one arm, Dandi’s leash hooked in his right hand, Barrett gave him a cheeky salute and ambled out.
