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Steve did something then that shocked Connor. With no warning, he bowed his head and wept.
Connor, stunned, simply sat and watched as Steve’s shoulders heaved, as his breath caught, and as he sniffled. Connor offered no comforting words. No words at all, actually. He sat back and allowed Steve to get it out of his system. It took a couple of minutes, but at last, Steve pulled himself together with a few trembling sighs and a hand pressed against his eyes.
When he looked again at Connor, his eyes were rimmed in red, moist. “I’m sorry.”
Despite all the hurt he’d inflicted on Connor, Connor couldn’t help but be moved. He contemplated patting the place next to him on the couch but resisted the urge. However, he did say, “What’s the matter, Steve? Everything okay?” He reached out a hand and then dropped it.
“Social media puts up this picture of us—Rory and me—that shows this blissful couple, almost sickening in our happiness.” He tried for a grin and failed.
Connor didn’t want to admit that he’d been stalking, er, following Steve on Facebook and Instagram. Such an admission was simply too pathetic. “Ah, we all do that? Is the picture you’re referring to wrong? Aren’t you guys the ones posting them?” Absurdly, or maybe not so much, Connor found himself hoping the image Steve and Rory presented was a sham. Then he chastised himself for having too much invested, for not letting go as much as he’d assumed he had. He’d once heard the opposite of love wasn’t hate; it was indifference.
Steve shrugged. “Yeah, they kind of are wrong or at least misleading. I mean, at first, they weren’t. At the start, when you’re head over heels in god knows what, they were true, to a point.” Steve stared down at the floor, then looked back up. “I don’t know how to talk to you about this without hurting you.” He released a trembling breath. “But you need to know. All of it.”
Connor glanced at the front door, expecting Trey to come bursting through in a sweat-stained black T-shirt and gray sweats. “Okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”
“It started off great, you know, with Rory. You and I had been together for such a long time. It was wonderful, our relationship, comforting and comfortable. We finished each other’s sentences. Cliché, but true. You were, are, my best friend. You’d seen me on the toilet; you’d been by my bed when I was sweating and burning up with fever. You were there when Mama passed. You saw me at my highest and lowest points.”
“That’s what you do for somebody you love,” Connor said, his voice barely above a whisper. He wondered if Steve even heard. He wondered if the notion would apply to Trey.
“I know. I know. But I was at a point where I was missing excitement and romance. Yearning for it. Shoot me, but it’s true. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you. I was just, and please don’t take offense, bored. You know, I so wanted to feel that same spark we felt when we first met.”
“That doesn’t last for anyone. You know that. We’re not kids.”
“You’re right, but that didn’t stop me from craving it. When I looked in the mirror, an old guy looked back at me. I began thinking about how fast things fade, how little time we really have. I’m sorry to say I didn’t appreciate you, what we had. I should have! God knows. But I just saw endless days of the same old, same old.”
Offended, Connor opened his mouth to protest.
Steve held up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t even say it. I know what you’re thinking. ‘I still have that power!’” He laughed, but there was little mirth in it. “I wanted to say it took me going through this whole time with Rory to realize just how valuablesame old, same oldis. It can be precious. And rare.”
Connor smiled and, again, resisted the urge to touch Steve. He knew. He knew. He’d had the same thoughts when they were together—why, we’ve become a boring old couple. In bed—for sleep—by ten on Saturday nights. No surprises. No flashes of excitement. Our relationship, once caviar and champagne, became bread and water. Connor reminded himself, though, that one can survive much longer on bread and water than on delicacies. In the end, he realized what he and Steve had together. It might have not been fireworks and passion, but it was two things he believed were more substantial and long-lasting than passing thrills—homeandfamily. Steve represented both of those things, and Connor had thought he always would.
And now he was the one who wanted to cry. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t. He glanced again at the front door.
“Did something happen?” Connor finally asked.
Steve stared for a long time out the window, at the shimmer on the lake, a buzzing seaplane ascending, houseboats rocking on the water. He started to stand and then sat down. His voice got very quiet, almost inaudible. “I shouldn’t burden you with this. It’s not fair. I left you.”
“We are well aware, but you came all this way.”
“Rory leftme. He’s moving to Miami, of all places.” He shook his head. “I guess the bloom was off the rose for him. Too. Maybe the petals fall off quicker when we get old, older. The engagement’s off. He feels bad, but I know he’s already found another man, even though he’d deny it. I’ve seen the texts.” Steve shrugged. “Serves me right, huh?” He captured Connor’s gaze. His eyes filled with tears.
And this time, Connor rose and went to him, kneeling at his feet and taking Steve’s hands in his own.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He hated to say the words, even though earlier he’d relished the same words and couldn’t wait to throw them at Steve, like daggers. But Steve needed to know. “But I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Understanding? I get it. I really do. If you’re hoping for some sort of reconciliation, though, I have to tell you, I got married.”
“What?” Steve’s mouth dropped open, his face stricken.
Connor was about to explain when the door opened.
Of course. Trey.
It probably didn’t help matters that Connor guiltily leaped to his feet, grinning in a way he knew was the very definition of sheepish. He moved back and away from Steve and plopped down on the couch. He actually giggled, and he could have kicked himself. What must Trey think?
He could just picture the scene through Trey’s eyes, like something out of a romantic film.
“What’s going on?”
And Steve rose. He wouldn’t even look toward Trey, let alone at him. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
