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I picked up the queer magazine that had a picture of me in a pair of ripped jeans, my chest bare. “It’s a decent picture.”
Fir batted his eyes at me. “It’s a fantastic picture. You look sexy as hell.”
“Thank you?”
“Oh, how about that? They also interviewed you.”
“Don’t…” But Fir yanked the magazine out of my hands and leafed through it, looking for the pages about me. I didn’t even recall what the article was about. I’d sat down with that journalist months ago.
“Here we go…” Fir’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it says here you’re unlucky in love…”
Jesus Cristo, I remembered. The journalist had seemed hell-bent on making me divulge my deepest secrets about my love life. As if I had any. Well, not at that time. “I did that interview back in May.”
“Mmm, he quotes you as saying you’ve never been in love.”
“I hadn’t been back then.”
He looked up, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe you should call him and issue a corrective statement.”
I snorted. “You want me to tell the whole world I’m in love? Because make no mistake, I will if that’s what you want.”
He sighed, leaning against my shoulder for a moment. “You’re such a smooth talker, Tomás Banner.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do. It’s still funny to read this.”
“Put it back, please.”
“Hell no. I’m buying this. This is going on the fridge. Have you seen these pictures?”
He held up the magazine, a full spread with two pictures of me. In one, I was wearing underwear and an unbuttoned dress shirt, which didn’t look half bad. The other one was far more provocative, with me naked from the back, showing off my ass.
I shook my head, laughing. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’re right. Not on the fridge ‘cause the boys would see it there. On my bathroom door so I can see all those yummy pictures of you anytime I want.”
“Excuse me, but why would you want pictures when you have the real thing right there in your bed?”
“Good point.” He closed the magazine. “But I’m still buying this.”
When we checked out, the cashier took the magazine and looked at me, then back at the magazine. “That picture barely looks like you,” she said, and Fir snorted.
“He’s much hotter in real life, right?” He bumped my shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Dr. Everett.”
Later that night, in bed, I proved just how much better the real-life version of me was than any picture could ever be. Fir—once he could talk and move again after I’d fucked him into a happy, boneless mess—agreed.
25
FIR
Much to my surprise, Tomás hadn’t let his brother know he was back. When I asked him about that, he said it was because he wanted some uninterrupted time with me first. But after two days, he had told him, and of course Tiago and Cas had invited us to come over for dinner a few days later. It was the last night Tomás and I would be alone, since my boys were coming home the day after, but I didn’t mind spending it with Tiago and Cas. Tomás, however, had needed some persuading.
“I don’t understand why they can’t wait a few days to see us,” he complained when we were in my car, driving up the mountain. “We could’ve spent the evening in bed.”
“We can still spend the whole night in bed.”
