Forever

Chapter 8

“I’m serious, Mark.”

“Did I say anything that would make you think I wasn’t taking you seriously?”

“You don’t have to say a word. It’s in your expression. Look. My clothes aren’t your responsibility.” He frowned. “I should have brought a change of clothes with me. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Probably because we usually spend the weekend at your place.” And we would have done last night if he hadn’t been so exhausted he’d picked a fight with me, revealing the level of his exhaustion. I decided to change the subject. “Wait until you see the closet in my new master bedroom. There will be plenty of room for your stuff. You could practically move in.” I thought about him moving in, living with me, of us making love every day—maybe even twice a day—working side by side in the kitchen, but then the reality of our situation descended on me. WBIS. CIA. I sighed and let it go.

“Oh?”

“What?”

He was smiling. “Nothing.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced around the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

The table was already set. “I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee. Pour us a couple of cups, would you?”

“Sure.” He went to the cabinet that held the cups, and I got a funny feeling in my gut. I realized it was because he knew where stuff was in my home. “Something smells good. What did you make?”

“Monte Cristos.” I’d figured breakfast would be a fairly simple meal to prepare, so I checked out recipes online and printed the ones that looked interesting. “By the way, I called the Lexus dealership.”

“Thanks, babe. When did they say it will be ready?”

“Monday afternoon.”

His mouth tightened. “The oil filter was supposed to be replaced this morning.”

“Yeah, but apparently some bolts sheared off.”

“Don’t tell me. They had to call New York for replacement bolts. Dammit.”

“Not to worry. I made a phone call, and a rental car will be in your driveway when I take you home tomorrow night. Of course, it’ll be there anyway if I take you home Monday morning.” I arched an eyebrow and waited for him to tell me tomorrow night would be fine, that he had work in the morning.

Quinn watched me steadily. “I’d like that.” He gave a huff of laughter at my surprise. “I have plenty of vacation and personal time. I’ll take the day off.”

“Cool.” I’d thought about taking the day off too and going down to the dealership with him, maybe having a chat with them, but he was a big boy, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to that, so I’d rented the car for him instead.

Meanwhile, it shouldn’t be hard to find things to keep him occupied after our ride with his mother tomorrow. Maybe I’d build us a fort of sofa pillows and blankets in the living area. Quinn could supervise. On second thought, he was too intense to settle for just supervising. He’d want to be a hands-on kind of.…

My mouth went dry at the thought of him being hands-on with me, and my c**k twitched. Oh, yeah. We’d definitely have to build that fort. With an effort, I brought my mind back to the present.

I took a stuffed sandwich off the griddle, humming softly, and slid it onto a plate.

“‘Blue Champagne’?” Quinn sounded surprised.

“Yeah. Someone I know has it for the ringtone on his cell phone.”

“Really.” There was a smile in his eyes. He was pleased I’d recognized it.

I sliced the Monte Cristo from corner to corner so I had four triangular pieces. Melted cheese oozed from the edges. I did the same with a second sandwich, lowered the heat so the two remaining would stay warm but wouldn’t burn, and took the plates to the table.

Quinn had the half-and-half and the sugar I kept for him already there, and he took a seat.

The microwave dinged, and I went to it to retrieve the maple syrup. He fixed his coffee, then took the pitcher I handed him and drizzled the warm syrup over his sandwich.

I made a production of doing the same, wanting him to take the first bite, watching out of the corner of my eye to see his reaction.

A slow smile crossed his face. “This is delicious. You did good, Vincent.”

“I keep telling you I’m the best.” I sliced off a corner of the sandwich, dipped it in some of the syrup on my plate, and put it in my mouth.

It was good.

* * * *

I kept him distracted during the day. There were CDs in the player by artists I knew he’d enjoy: Diana Krall, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, Sarah Vaughan. I’d first taken note of them when I’d paid a little visit to his town house this past spring.

As the music started, I opened the board for the game on the coffee table in the living area and made myself comfortable on the floor.

“Monopoly, Mark?”

“I like Monopoly. Sit.”

“I just didn’t expect you to have the kind of game that took two or more players.” He sat across from me

“Hey, I’ve got Trivial Pursuit and Jenga around here somewhere too, you know.”

“What? No Clue?”

“Nah. Once I saw the movie, I could never take it seriously again.”

That made him laugh. His hand hovered over the game pieces.

“I’d like the horse and rider, if you don’t mind?”