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“I’m findin’ my words,” I told him. “To thank you, I mean. For tonight, for being my buddy, my Roe. You know it ain’t easy for me—but whenever you say somethin’, I wanna say, yeah, me too.”

My Roe.

He smiled up at me. “I know that, Jake. You have your own way of expressing yourself.”

Okay, great, but I still wanted to say it, and now I finally could.

“My point is, I can’t picture my life without you anymore.” I fell against the wall as Roe stopped to open the door to our room. Hell, I thought it was farther down the hallway. “I think you and I should take our kids back to Norway one day—show them where our first major production took place. And your thirtieth birthday is mine. You did all this for me—so that’s the deal. When you turn thirty, you’re mine.”

Fuck, I had to stop saying that.

Mine.

My Roe. Mine.

Whatever—he was amused. Fine. I meant every word.

I followed him inside and was thankful when he only flicked on a couple of the lamps. No bright lights. Cozy and nice.

I removed my tie and threw it somewhere.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he joked.

Baby.

I scratched my forehead, and it felt like a sealed box was rattling in some remote corner of my brain. Trying to tell me something. I didn’t know. But as he headed into the bathroom, I went after him and had to say something.

“You’ve changed a little since you told me you’re bi,” I said.

He glanced at me, confused, maybe wondering why the fuck I had followed him into the bathroom when he was clearly trying to take a piss. But why? Did I care? No. We were beyond that. I could talk while he took a leak. The toilet was in its own little room in the bathroom, so I leaned against the doorframe and waited. And talked.

“You’re more, I don’t know—you’re sweet,” I told him. “You pay me a lot of compliments, and I’m stupid to never say anythin’ back. But that’s beside the point. You don’t share much about your datin’ life. I don’t know if you’ve met a dude. You only mention girlfriends.”

“Boy, did I unlock Pandora’s box when I poured liquor into you tonight,” he mused.

I grinned and lifted my brows. I wanted answers. Had he met a guy? Had he kissed another man? Gotten fucked? Had they played with that dildo together? I had to know. The women were bad enough. Now I had to bat away dudes too? I couldn’t catch a fucking break.

He stifled a belch and flushed the toilet. “I haven’t done shit with a guy.”

That was good. Real good. I liked that answer. I could relax.

Still feeling too hot, I unbuttoned my vest and took it off. “Isn’t it quiet here? My ears are ringing. We should put on some music.”

He cracked up and shook his head at me. “You’re just all over the place, aren’t you?”

I shrugged and walked out, wanting to find music. There should be music on the TV.

Roe helped me once he was done in the bathroom. I could count on him. He was a good guy.

I smiled and threw an arm around him. “You’re a good guy, Roe. The best.” This music was perfect too, because it was the same we’d heard upstairs. “Louder. I miss the club feeling. Did you charge your phone yet?”

“We’ll head back up there as soon as you pass out,” he promised, removing his tie.

I nodded. “Good.”

It shouldn’t take too long to charge his phone. Scratching my neck, I eyed the bar and decided to make a drink. Shit—I grimaced at the feel of my neck. Sticky and probably salty. I walked over to the bar and undid my shirt a little.

I kicked off my shoes and almost stumbled when I tugged off my socks too.

“You sure you wanna do that, Jake?”

“What? You want tonic or cranberry with your vodka?” I didn’t wanna waste my perfect buzz. The dizziness had gone down a bit, and now I just wanted to chill. Listen to music, drink, be with my Roe. I wanted to laugh at his crude jokes and hitch my future to his dimpled grins.

“You know what?” Roe hurried over to me and stole the vodka bottle from me. “What you need is a refreshing shower and some food. It’ll make you ready for round two upstairs.”

A shower wasn’t a horrible idea. I was sweaty and covered in salt and lime juice. At least on my neck.

“Can you order room service?” I asked. “I want ice with my vodka.”

“I’ll—yeah, definitely. Let’s get you into the shower. And while you freshen up, I’ll mix your drink and order up food. How’s that?”

Perfect, that’s what it was.

He ushered me into the bathroom again, a little too fast for my abilities, so I steadied myself against the sink. And he bent over to pick up my vest.

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