Chapter 30 #2
His body language suggests he wouldn’t welcome my sitting close to him, so I pull out one of the chairs from under the little dining table, set it down across from the couch, and sit on it.
He’s sad, certainly, but there’s something else in his eyes, anger maybe.
His mood reminds me a little of the night in the hotel, when he’d gone and come back laden with a determined air and a few kilos of sweets.
“Well, firstly, I’m sorry about last night. It took me longer to get away than I hoped, and when I got to my office, Leo was there.” His body language changes, stiffening a little. “He told me he’d said some things... he was quite regretful, I think.”
“He knew,” Asher says. “I never confirmed anything, but he knew. I think he knows about Felix, too.”
I nod in confirmation. “Yes. We had a chat last night, it seems he’s worked out some things.
I didn’t deny anything, but we need to talk, properly—something I’ve been avoiding for a long time, likely since his mother died.
” Last night, we agreed to see a family therapist. I agreed to put him first for a while, because although Stella was the one who’d died, Leo confessed it had long felt like he’d lost both his parents.
We also agreed to talk more about his mother.
“We have some work to do on our relationship.”
“He seemed really… sad.” Asher’s voice is empathetic.
“He is. Which is my fault: avoiding him, lying to him, hiding things from him. I hide a lot of things… even from those I care about.” I give Asher a meaningful look. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the job offer.”
“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “Why would you tell me? It’s not really any of my business, I’m just some guy you fuck when you’re stressed or whatever. I’m not important.”
“Asher, of course you’re important. You must know that.”
“I don’t!” he yells, startling me. “I don’t know what the fuck I am to you, honestly, I don’t.”
“Then that’s my fault, too. For not treating you better.”
He looks at me, frustrated. “It’s not even that because you do, you treat me better than anyone ever has.
Fuck, Christian, when we’re together… it’s like…
magic. The way you make me feel, the way you look at me, touch me, talk to me.
” He looks down and fiddles with a thread on the blanket.
“Like I’m precious and wanted and so fucking special.
Like I’m important.” This word is critical to him, I can tell.
This notion of being important to someone.
He needs this. “But then I’m reminded every now and then that I’m not, that this is just temporary for you and that it can’t ever be anything real, and you treat me the way you do because that’s who you are: a decent person who treats people with respect, not because you lo—not because I’m important to your life or your future or anything.
And like, it’s fine, I knew that early on…
You never lied to me about that, so I can’t even be mad about it.
But now you’re going to run a country, and I’m just some little gay boy from Ohio who paints and who didn’t have a fucking passport until last week, and so yeah, I guess that’s that then.
It was just really good… with you, and it was hard not to get carried away when we were together, but like, that’s on me, not you.
So, fuck, I don’t even know what I’m saying.
This whole thing has been a mindfuck, honestly.
” I get off the chair and go to him, sitting close to him on the couch.
He turns his head, a hesitant look in his eye as he looks at me.
“Asher, listen to me, you’re one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met.
You’re the very definition of special. To me, to your friends, to anyone who’s lucky enough to know you.
Good heavens, Doreen out there thinks you’re made of pure sunshine, and I happen to agree—Jacob Fordyce was charmed by the way, Felix, too.
” His nostrils flare a little at the mention of Felix, which only makes me smile.
“You live your life with all of your heart and soul and a self-assurance that I’m completely envious of.
The moment I set eyes on you in that bookshop, I knew you were going to change my life.
” I reach out to smooth a hand over his cheek, delighting when he leans into it.
“And you have. You’ve made it immeasurably better.
You’ve made me smile and laugh, more than I have in years, more than I thought I would be able to again.
These last few months with you… I’ve been happy. ”
He turns on me then, eyes hard again. “This is what I’m talking about.
How can you say shit like that and not expect me to fall for you?
No one talks like this, not to me anyway, no one ever has.
It’s this sort of shit that messes with my head, Christian, that makes me think about and want stuff I can’t have, because why wouldn’t I want this?
I know you don’t mean it, and you’ve been honest with me from the start, it’s just… fuck, it’s hard.”
My heart breaks at the pain in his voice, at the idea that I’m hurting him in any way.
I never want to hurt him. But being with me is hurting him.
He deserves better than this half- thing I’ve been offering while I avoid dealing with my life.
He deserves to be cherished and loved, fully and completely.
“The last thing I wanted was to hurt you,” I say miserably. For a very long time, he picks at the same thread on his blanket while I watch, feeling suffocated with ineptitude.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he says. “I just… I can’t.”
When he lifts his head, his cerulean gaze is shimmering with tears and a look of fierce determination. “I love you.”
My heart gives an almighty judder, like a great ship moving out into the sea. And it doesn’t sink… it floats.