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“I need to get back to work,” she said when they stepped outside into the bitter cold. “What are you doing for dinner?”
“Hotel food.”
“You’re going to get scurvy and die if you keep eating room service. Promise me you’re going to look for an actual house soon. I mean, seriously, I don’t even want to think about the cash you’re dropping.”
Neither did he, but only because it didn’t matter, which made him feel worse. Dahlia obviously lived a comfortable life, but she still had to worry about her bills. She still had to work to keep up on her child support payments, and her lights on, and her mortgage paid.
And she probably had some idea of his situation, considering the car he drove, but it wasn’t the first time she’d dropped a comment like that.
“I’m going to be fine,” he told her as the valet pulled up.
She laughed. “I have no doubt. Now, get my door for me, Prince Charming. People at work think I bagged myself a sugar daddy, and I want to keep up the rumors for a while.”
He laughed to himself as he helped her in and then let her ramble as he headed toward her office.
* * *
Pulling one sleeve of his sweater over his hand, Emil used his other to answer Victor’s call. He wasn’t expecting to hear from him, so there was a small bubble of fear that something was wrong.
“Everything okay?”
“Oliver has sunburned ass cheeks, and he’s so annoyed with me he kicked me out of the room,” Victor said.
Emil sagged forward a little bit. Okay. No one was dead, no one was maimed, and no one had found their fiancé in bed with their best friend.
This time.
“Ouch?”
Victor snorted. “Yeah. His bad attitude when he’s in pain doesn’t make it better, so I’m having a scotch by the pool.”
Emil felt the ghost of want in the back of his throat as he ached for the familiar burn of alcohol. It had been exactly three weeks since he’d touched a drop. He had an appointment for Dahlia’s therapist on his books, and he was white-knuckling it through his cravings.
But he was doing better than he expected, which was something, though he wasn’t ready to tell Victor about his decision just yet. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone. He didn’t think he could face the world if they all believed in him and he failed them.
“Where are you right now?” Victor asked.
Emil glanced around the nearly empty room, then at the three boxes of clothes, photos, and old letters that were left from when the house had been cleaned out. “I, uh…nowhere.”
Victor huffed a small sigh. “Is there a reason you’re lying to me?”
“Yes,” Emil answered. “But can it wait until you get back? This is a lot.”
“Are you in trouble? Are you hurt?”
His heart was hurting, but that was the childhood-full-of-issues sort of pain his friend couldn’t fix. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to burden Victor with anything, considering what a terrible person Emil had been over the last several years.
So, the answer was easy. “No. Not in trouble and not hurt. Just taking care of a few things.”
“Would any of those things be buying a house?”
“Not you too,” Emil groaned. “I made a friend here, and she’s been on my case for the last two weeks about living in the hotel.”
Victor gave a curious hum. “Friendfriend, or…”
“No. Nothing like that,” Emil said in a rush. He couldn’t imagine wanting anything like that with Dahlia now. “She’s just…nice. It’s weird.”
“Being around actual nice people takes some getting used to. Trust me, I’m still not over the way Oliver is with me,” Victor said softly, and Emil could hear the smile in his voice. It was something Emil wanted to protect with his whole body and whole soul because if anyone deserved that kind of happiness, it was Victor. “I hope we can meet her when we get back.”
