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“Can hear me what?”
“Smiling.”
He laughed. “Caught me.”
Ambrose lifted his head to place a kiss on the corner of Barrett’s mouth. It wasn’t enough, so Barrett pulled him up and over, until Ambrose’s lean frame was half sprawled over Barrett and neither had to strain their necks. “I forgot how good morning sex was,” he murmured between kisses, already feeling lightheaded and giddy. That fizzy feeling in his chest was a nice contrast to the smooth muscles under his hands. And Ambrose lookedcontent, the lines of his forehead and around his mouth faded into pale skin.
“Do you have to get up?”
“Nah. It’s Sunday and I already let Dandi out. She’s snoring by the fireplace.”
Ambrose hummed and put his head back down on Barrett’s chest while his fingers danced across his skin. “I have a favor to ask,” he said quietly after several long minutes.
“Sure.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
Barrett shrugged. “It is easy.”
He heard Ambrose swallow hard. “I am, admittedly, not good at taking people at their word.”
That Barrett understood on a very basic level. People were complicated, twisting things and a certain number of them thought words had as much meaning as action. Words had power for sure, but actions had complete consequences. You could try to take back your words and apologize, but actions were more difficult - if not impossible - to undo. “Well, I’m not going to make big, sweeping promises,” he replied, making sure to connect gazes with Ambrose. “But I hope you know by now that I’m a pretty open book. Ask whatever you want, Ambrose. And if I’m not comfortable or I can’t, I’ll tell you.”
Ambrose took that in. Barrett could almost see the slow drip of realization and understanding erode another wall. “Well, okay.” He shuffled closer, a small smile flickering on his face. “I still have to open that letter from my mother. I was hoping you’d be willing to stay with me as I did. Let me complain or vent or whatever strong feeling I’m sure she’ll evoke.” His smile twitched. “I can owe you a beer or a bottle of something.”
“You don’toweme anything. We’re friends.” He trailed his fingertip over Ambrose’s sternum. “Lovers.”
There was no hesitation in the reply. “We are. But still.”
“I got you.” When Ambrose blinked at him, Barrett smiled. “Family shit is tough, doubly, maybe triply so when it’s that close to the heart. I get you.” He tipped Ambrose’s chin up with a finger and kissed him. Softly. Quietly. Not intending to make Ambrose moan but there suddenly were fingers curled around his bicep; not clinging, but holding on. “I’ll bring us some coffee. You want me to get the letter, too?”
That got him a laugh. “Oh the look on my mother’s face if she knew I was reading her oh-so important letter in bed with my lover.”
Loverslipped off Ambrose’s tongue easily. Barrett liked the sound of it. “Be right back.” He threw on pants and left the warm bed, shivering as the cold morning air hit bare skin. Dandi woofed at him softly, an acknowledgement of his presence, before closing her eyes once more.
The envelope smelled faintly of lavender and instantly Barrett hated it. He hated that this simple bit of paper and ink had made Ambrose upset. The urge to crumple it in his fist overtook him for only a moment, but he did squash it between the coffee mugs and lifted the entire thing to carry into the bedroom. Ambrose hadn’t moved except to slide his briefs back on and drape an edge of the thick, dark green quilt over his legs. Barrett handed over a mug and the envelope before folding himself into bed.
“I won’t bore you with the long details. My therapist has had to deal with all that at one time or another. But my mother is…unhappy with me.”
That hit a little close to home for Barrett. The indifference to his existence, and Val’s, had been the hallmark of their upbringing until their grandmother got ahold of them. And then it had beenyou’re not enough be better no wonder your parents dumped you on me.
“I won’t pretend to know. But I’m not lying when I say I understand on a level.”
Whatever Ambrose was looking for on Barrett’s face, he must have found it. With a nod and a long drink of steaming coffee, he said, “She’s ratherfamousin thewell-heeledparts of society.”
He snorted. “A nice word for snobby?”
“Exactly. So being her only child came with a set of expectations. Expectations I have never, ever met.” His mouth thinned and he sought out Barrett’s hand. The faint note in his voice slowly eased away. “I know, poor me. But it’s all to say that I’m guessing this,” and he whipped the envelope in the air, “is her polite way of yelling at me for moving and not leaving a forwarding address. So she shouldn’t have been able to find me.”
It wasn’t a hard leap to make. “The ex?”
“Fucking Preston. Has to be.” Ambrose gripped the envelope tighter. “He’d better never come around here again.” He snuggled closer, hooked his foot around Barrett’s ankle. “He’s ex. Permanently.”
Something like nerves fluttered in his belly. Did he dare? “No ex here. And Oz was just a distraction.” He grinned. “A physical one. And that gets boring.”
“You’re looking for something else.”
Ambrose was trying hard to look nonchalant. Desperately. And failing. Carefully, Barrett took the mug from his hands and put it aside with his own. Then rolled them until Ambrose was half on top. He was quickly discovering that Ambrose under him (on top beside with him) was his favorite. Ambrose hummed happily, not the least perturbed at the shift. “I am,” he replied, placing a kiss under Ambrose’s jaw. “Thinking maybe I found it.”
