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And unexpected. This man is more complex than the boy I used to know. And there is so much more to him than the temper most people know him for.
“I’d have had an easy start with my mom’s seed money. Not everyone has a rich mother though.” He shrugs and throws something into the pan and the oil sizzles loudly, forcing my eyes away from him.
“This is a great PR story. You should talk about it with Catira, or we can call a few other leads—”
“Blue, this is a date, not a work meeting. And I don’t want people to know. This is something that grows organically when I meet someone who deserves a chance. I don’t want a bunch of wannabees to beg me for money. And I don’t want the fuss.”
I nod. I understand where he’s coming from, but I also want to shout this from the rooftops, so that everyone who only sees the angry energy in his kitchen can learn about the real man behind the frenzy.
“Ready to eat, Blue?” He plates the vegetables and the lamb and drizzles them with mint dressing, explaining it all to me as he takes his time to design the perfect plate.
“It smells amazing, and it looks like an art piece.” I stand up and follow him to a glass dining table by the window.
I didn’t notice it before, as it’s smartly hidden between a large plant and a tall cabinet. It’s a small space, but with the park at our fingertips it doesn’t feel cramped at all.
“Well, let’s hope the taste measures up.” He puts down the plates and pulls the chair our for me.
I take my seat, but Massi doesn’t move to take his. He stands beside me, observing me.
“Sit down.” I laugh.
He’s clenching his fists and there is something wild in his eyes that I don’t recognize.
“Have a bite.” His words come out hoarse. I don’t know what’s happening, but I pick my fork. The lamb is so tender I don’t need the knife. I put a slice in my mouth, too aware of his tight fists beside me.
I exhale because the explosion of flavors in my mouth is divine. “It’s amaz—”
“I’ll be right back.” Massi strides away.
What the hell is going on? He left so quickly, I don’t even know which way to follow him.
“Massi?” I call after him, but there is no answer.
I’m torn and oddly deflated, but I try to tell myself there must be a reasonable explanation. There is only one hallway leading out of this room. On each side there are two doors, but they’re closed. The double doors at the end of the hallway are slightly ajar.
I peek in, confronted with the most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever seen. Everything is white with deep brown accents, but most of the colors come to the room from Central Park through the glass walls.
“Massi?” I whisper, but I don’t see him anywhere. A soft groan comes from behind the door and I step in tentatively, my feet sinking into thick carpet.
There is another door by the side of the bed, behind it a luxurious master bathroom. But I don’t have time to take in the decor because my eyes land on Massi.
He sits on the tub, his head between his knees, wheezing.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing, but instinct pushes me forward. I kneel and touch the sides of his thighs gently. “I’m here, baby. What’s going on?”
He pants, gripping his hair. I place my hand over his and lean into him in an awkward hug. “Massi, talk to me, please.”
“Go back and eat. I’ll be right there.” He shakes his head, but shifts his weight slightly toward me, accepting the embrace.
I pull at his shoulders and he slides down to the floor, where I finally can wrap my arms around him properly, holding him while his breath slows to its regular rhythm.
I came today expecting intimacy, but not at this level. Yet I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Holding Massi in my arms when he’s vulnerable—even if I don’t understand the trigger—feels right.
It feels like home. Like I’ve wandered the world escaping him only to end up here, right now.
“Fuck,” he growls. He pulls away, avoiding my eyes and standing up before holding a hand out for me. Still without eye contact, he walks to the sink and rinses his face, then runs his wet hands through his hair. He turns off the water and leans on his arms, bowing his head. “Fuck.”
I step closer and lace my arms around his waist, resting my cheek on his back. He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry,” he rasps.
