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When I raise my face from the towel and meet my eyes in the mirror, it’s as though I’m seeing myself for the first time. Actually, every time I look in the mirror, I’m seeing myself for the first time. I know the parts that put together my face, but I’ve always been a stranger to myself.
But maybe it’s not just the prosopagnosia that has kept me blind.
With Leo, I don’t feel the need to put on a mask. I can let it drop. I can be…myself.
What that actually means, I’m not sure.
And that scares me.
CHAPTER47
LEO
I hearthe water stop in the bathroom, followed by the creak of the door. Julian strides back into the kitchen, naked and unashamed, and slaps his hands down on my tiny dining table, the one I use to stack my shit on when I get home, rather than eat on.
“Leo,” he says, his voice steady and resolute, “I’ve never felt like this before, and I need to know what it means.”
I try to hide a smile. “Okay, slow down there. Let’s get some food into you first. When was the last time you ate?”
“I’ve no idea,” he says impatiently, but then he pulls in a deep breath through his nose, and his tone changes completely as the smell of steak hits him. His belly growls. “And I’mfamished,” he finishes.
“Good. Sit your bare ass down and get this into you.”
I slide the plate of steak and eggs I’ve prepared in front of him as he sits obediently. “You cooked for me?”
“Looks like.” I fill my own plate and sit opposite him. I have to use a stepladder rather than a chair, but it’s almost the right height. Both of us are naked, but it feels completely natural.
Julian shakes his head slightly as he stares at the plate, still looking confused. “Only the kitchen staff has ever cooked for me before,” he says, and then he looks at me. “You’re not staff, Leo.”
“No, but I need to eat, and so do you. Maybe that silver spoon’ll fall out of your mouth while you do.”
Julian looks at me, taking in my tattoos, staring at my face hard. For a moment, I wonder how he sees me. What he thinks of me.
“Come on,” I say, picking up a fork. “Let’s eat.”
As he wolfs down the food, his eyes continue to roam over me, like I might disappear in a puff of smoke any second now—or attack him. There’s a vulnerability in his face I haven’t seen before, and it fires up my protective instincts. There’s a lot at stake here, and I’m not talking about our respective Families.
“Thank you,” he murmurs when he’s done, his voice barely audible.
“You’re welcome.”
He reaches tentatively across the table, brushing my fingertips with his, and I grab his hand. Hold it tight. For a moment, we’re not enemies. We’re not killers.
We’re just two men trying to figure shit out.
“Leo,” Julian says hesitantly, “there’s something I need to tell you.” He takes his hand out of mine. “I have…a condition.”
“A condition?” My mind goes straight to a terminal diagnosis, so what he says next flies over my head for a moment.
“Face blindness.”
“Face…blindness?” I repeat, sounding as dumb as I ever have.
But Julian nods. “I can’t…see faces. Can’t remember them, maybe, is the better way to put it.”
I stare at him, and then I say something pretty unhelpful. “Are you shitting me?”
I’m lucky it provokes a smile. “No. I’ve had it all my life, which means I’ve become adept at hiding it.”
