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Emil leaned in and took a very soft, lingering peck. “How much longer do you have before you need to go?”
And there it was: reality crashing back in on him.
He rolled over and peered at the little clock on his nightstand. “Hour…ish.” He settled back against Emil, letting their knees knock together. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the most important thing in the universe to let Emil know that he didn’t want this to just stop. “You?”
“No plans for me today. I’m going to FaceTime my friends later…if they remember. They’re in the Bahamas right now.”
Renzo’s brow furrowed. “Really. So are mine. That’s…” He froze as realization hit him, slow and kind of heavy. Emil fit the bill as exactly the sort of person Victor had known before he gave up his entire life to become Oliver’s. And Renzo knew some of their story—how Victor’s ex-fiancée had been cheating. How his friends had covered it up.
How Victor had left most of them behind.
But not all of them.
“Victor and Oliver,” he dared in a voice so quiet it could almost be called a whisper.
Emil’s eyes closed, slowly, pain rushing over his face. “Oh, God.”
“Hey,” Renzo started, but something between them snapped, and Emil was rolling over and climbing off the bed before Renzo could actually move. “Please don’t?—”
“No,” Emil said. “No, I…I should go. This is weird.”
“It doesn’t have to—” Renzo stopped when the look Emil shot him was pure humiliation and grief.
“It’s better this way. God, I should have known. I’m sorry.” He fumbled with his pants, and Renzo felt frozen, pinned to the bed, helpless to do anything except watch. When Emil had the last button done up on his shirt, he turned and looked at Renzo. “For what it’s worth, I’m trying not to be the man I was, okay?”
Renzo just nodded and said nothing—did nothing—as Emil turned on his heel and left. The moment he heard the front door shut, he dropped his hands over his face and fought the urge to scream.
How had it gone from literal bliss to the ghost of what was in a single second? And why did he just lie there when he could have stopped Emil from running?
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
SeeingVictor’s face was only a momentary balm. Where it was supposed to bring him joy and comfort to set eyes on his friend again, instead it just sent Emil careening back to hours before when he’d fled Renzo’s house. Every time he blinked, he saw the realization hit Renzo—the way his eyes widened and his lips parted in a grimace.
It was clear from the way Renzo had looked at him he knew everything. He knew what a monster Emil had been—the things he’d done. And maybe he also knew that Emil was trying to better himself and earn Victor’s forgiveness, but from the look Emil had seen on his face, it wasn’t enough.
And how could it be? Why should it be?
“Hey,” Victor said, his brows dipped in a low frown. He was lounging on what looked like a very comfortable chair on a terrace, and Emil could hear wind off in the distance. The sun had Victor backlit, glowing like he was a literal angel, and if anyone deserved to become one, it was his friend. “Talk to me.”
Emil swallowed heavily. “I fucked up.”
Victor sat forward. “Explain.”
Emil fixed his gaze on his condo wall, not able to meet his friend’s eye. “I met Renzo.”
“Oliver’s friend,” Victor said, just a twinge of bitterness in his tone.
Normally, that would have made Emil laugh. He found it adorable the way Victor loved so intensely, so fiercely, that even a perceived threat was a target for annihilation. But unfortunately, he couldn’t find a single touch of humor in his current situation.
“His sister’s house is right next to my, um. My mom’s.”
In his periphery, Emil could see Victor’s eyes widen. “Your mom’s?”
Emil dragged a hand down his face, then said, “It was one of the reasons I wanted to come out here. She died at the beginning of the year, and there was no one to handle all the shit she left behind.” Emil had never talked to Victor about his childhood, and Victor knew there was a reason for it. He knew Emil’s mother wasn’t in his life. And he’d never asked why. Emil cleared his throat. “Anyway, he was there with his brother. His sister’s on vacation or something, and he’s housesitting. We, uh…we met one night.”
“You very clearly did more than just meet,” Victor said cautiously.
Emil covered his face and flopped back against the couch cushions. His throat was searing hot, and he realized it was from holding back tears, which made him feel even worse.
