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He lasted until eight that night before he cracked.
Things might have gone differently if he’d been able to distract himself with alcohol or if Dahlia wasn’t away for the next two weeks, but that was life. And his self-control was next to nothing these days.
He ate dinner, finally showered off, and found himself lying in his bed, staring up at the unmoving ceiling fan—at a little spider spinning a web between the blades. He blinked and saw Renzo’s face. He breathed and felt Renzo’s mouth on him. He flexed his abs and felt the hot, tight heat of Renzo clenching around him seconds before he came so hard he was pretty sure he saw God.
And then the thread of control snapped, and he picked up his phone before he could stop himself.
It rang four times before a tired voice picked up, and it took Emil a second to find his words. “I’m so sorry.”
“For bailing? Or making me feel like shit? Or…”
“For all of it. For letting my fear and panic take over,” Emil interrupted.
Renzo sighed, then let silence rest between them for a long, long moment. “Why?”
“Because I was afraid you were going to look at me the way everyone else does, and I didn’t think I could take it. I wasn’t expecting you to know the person I hurt.”
“Oliver or Victor?”
“Victor,” Emil said. “I was one of the people who helped hide the affair. And then I made him feel like he had no one he could turn to when everything fell apart.”
“Jesus,” Renzo breathed out.
“I know. I know,” Emil said. He fought back the ache that was making a comfortable home in the back of his throat. “He’s one of the best people I know.”
Renzo let out a small laugh, the sound surprising. “He hates me. Like, if I was on fire, he’d probably toast marshmallows over my corpse.”
Emil scoffed. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s obsessively in love with Oliver, and he’s petrified that he won’t be good enough for him.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Renzo said.
“Tell me about it. They’re so in love it’s disgusting.” They both laughed, and for a single beat of a heart, Emil could forget why things were terrible. But it didn’t last. “Victor forgave me, and I’ve been doing everything to be a better man than the one who let him down. But I assumed Oliver told you about me.”
“He never mentioned you by name. He talked about Victor’s past a little, but it wasn’t my business,” Renzo said. “I was in shock that we were connected.”
Emil rubbed at his eyes, feeling more foolish than before. “I kind of think maybe this is proof why I can’t be good for you.”
“That sounds like a cop-out,” Renzo said, his tone a little snappy. “We all have our issues. God knows I’m literally drowning in them because I have a shit-for-brains ex who made me feel like I was a cold, dead, useless fish in and out of bed.”
“Fuck him,” Emil spat, feeling suddenly vicious to the bastard that hurt Renzo. “You’re gorgeous and passionate and so fucking responsive it makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”
“It’s different with you,” Renzo told him. His tone was softer now, more afraid, and Emil understood why. “I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t need to. I get it. Trust me. But the one thing I didn’t want to do was hurt you. Then I just bailed…”
“Emil, please don’t take this the wrong way, but it wasn’t like I spent the day sitting around crying into my tea. I was really confused, but it was obvious whatever you had going on was a personal thing.”
Emil blinked, then burst into laughter. “You’re serious?”
“Not in a cruel way,” Renzo started to defend, and Emil laughed harder.
“I don’t,” he managed to get out. “I don’t think you’re being cruel. I just built up all this shit in my head like it was some giant mess, and it turns out you were looking at me like a dog who got his head caught in a chip bag.”
Renzo choked on a laugh. “Okay, notthatbad, but…yes, I suppose so. I figured you’d call and explain once you were calm.”
Emil rolled onto his stomach and pressed the phone to his ear as he buried his face in the pillow and attempted to smother himself. Humiliation was the worst feeling. “Cool. Yeah. Great.”
“Emil…”
