Chapter 15
fifteen
. . .
Javier was at a complete loss as he followed Desmond, winding through the tables that had been set up and dodging the catering staff as they brought out everyone’s salad.
“Desmond?” he whispered when they finally found their table and sat.
“Not now,” Desmond whispered back, barely meeting his eyes for half a second before turning to the grey-haired woman seated on his other side to glumly introduce himself.
Javier’s jaw was slack in shock as he sank gracelessly into his chair and stared at the pile of greens on the plate in front of him.
He had no idea what had just happened. One minute, he and Des had been having a grand old time dressing for the event and flirting as they did, and the next, as soon as they’d arrived at the hotel, it was like someone had flipped a switch and the warm, funny, tender Desmond he knew had vanished.
“Are you Desmond’s date?” the stocky man in an expensive suit seated on Javier’s other side asked with a polite smile.
“I am.” Javier put on his most elegant smile and offered the man a hand. “Javier Rivera.”
“Harry Pickering,” the man introduced himself, shaking Javier’s hand. “Senior partner at Pickering Jones.”
Javier tried to make his smile friendlier. The man was Desmond’s boss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said, hoping he could make a good impression and reflect well on Desmond.
He would have done just about anything to reflect well on Desmond right then, and to make him happy. He felt like he was utterly failing at the last bit.
Because even though he refused to talk about it, there was something decidedly wrong with Desmond. Javier made small talk with his boss, but behind his feigned interest in the stock market and the nods he managed to throw in at appropriate times, most of his attention was on his boyfriend.
Desmond barely picked at his salad. When the main course was brought out, he pushed a few things around the plate and took a bite or two, but that was it.
Des didn’t talk to the matron on his other side, and his posture was so rigid that Javier was certain he’d break something. He was like a powder keg about to blow.
Even worse than his worry, a seeping sort of guilt worked its way through Javier.
Desmond wasn’t behaving like someone who had only just decided to turn squirrely.
The more Javier thought about it as he sawed through overcooked chicken and nodded at the conversation he’d been drawn into, the more he shuffled back through the last few weekends and the sometimes odd looks Desmond had given him.
When had their boyfriend fantasy turned into something more real than the trials and tribulations he dealt with during the week?
It wasn’t just him, he was sure of it. Their entire conversation at Kew Gardens came back in stark relief as Javier tried to sort through the things he was feeling now.
He’d been so desperate to keep his failures from infecting their fun and making Desmond think less of him, but now Javier was starting to see that Desmond had very likely been doing the same with him.
They were both struggling, both hiding things, and probably both bending over backwards not to lay their troubles on each other.
It couldn’t go on. Whatever else happened, they’d already popped the bubble. The only thing to do now was to forge ahead and deal with it.
“Excuse me, Mr. White?” a young woman in a sleek, grey suit came up to the table and leaned down to speak quietly to Desmond. “We’re about ready to begin the presentations. Would you mind coming backstage so we can prep you on how to use the microphone?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Desmond said, rising and pushing back his chair quickly. He then fled the table, following the woman, like someone had dropped a bucket of mud from Kew Gardens on the centerpiece.
Javier excused himself to the man who was trying to talk to him and leapt after him. He managed to catch up to Desmond at the front corner of the room.
“Desmond,” he said, grabbing Desmond’s arm lightly.
As soon as Des turned back to him, he didn’t know what to say. Or really, he had so many things he wanted to say and so many questions to ask that he didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t want to say everything with over a hundred people potentially watching them.
“I think they need me backstage,” Desmond said, though he didn’t pull his arm away from Javier’s touch.
“I know,” Javier said, closing his eyes for a moment and marshalling his thoughts, “but there’s something going on here, and I’m really worried about it. I’m worried about you.”
At last, Desmond pulled his arm away. “You shouldn’t worry about me,” he said.
That wasn’t quite what Javier expected him to say.
“The trouble is, I’m already worried,” he said, looking Desmond seriously in the eyes.
Des glanced away, his face coloring, but he remained silent.
“I know this has something to do with that Angus guy,” he said, inching closer.
When Desmond glanced up at him, he went on with, “Honey, you know I don’t care about any relationships you’ve had in the past. You could have screwed the entire Arsenal football team in a rooftop pool orgy and I wouldn’t care, as long as you had fun. ”
Desmond’s brow shot up as if that was the last thing he expected Javier to say. They were definitely surprising each other tonight, which shouldn’t have happened. “He’s my competition,” Desmond said.
Javier shifted his weight and leaned as close to Desmond as he could.
“Listen, while I may not be proud of it, I have been known to do the horizontal tango with a guy I was in direct competition with for a spot walking in fashion week,” he said.
“And there may have been a time or two when I was in the middle of a fuck sandwich. We’ve all been there.
Who you get your rocks off with and how is nobody’s business but your own. ”
Desmond looked gobsmacked. Which would have been funny if it meant the whole guilty tension thing was resolved. But Desmond continued to look like he’d killed someone’s puppy.
“There’s more to it than that,” he said, though Javier could have told him that without needing to hear the words spoken. “I—I haven’t been honest,” he said, lowering his eyes. “And I know how much you value integrity.”
“I do, but—”
“Mr. White.” The awards coordinator came back to fetch Desmond. “We need you.”
Desmond sent Javier a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry,” he said with far too much finality, then left Javier to head backstage.
For a few seconds, Javier could only stand there and gape at Desmond’s back like a fish gasping for breath, prickles of doom racing through him.
He still had no idea what was going on or what had put the hangdog expression on his lover’s face.
He honestly didn’t care who Desmond had fucked in the past. They were both grown adults in their early thirties, which meant there were inevitably skeletons in the closet and dust bunnies swept under the carpet.
It had to be something else. Something bigger and more awful had Desmond tied in knots, and it hurt Javier to be shut out.
He didn’t want to be on the outside of Desmond’s life. He didn’t want to just be boyfriends on the weekend, hiding from their troubles and failing to do the one thing that would probably make everything easier for both of them, relying on each other.
It was more than just that. As he took a few listless steps back until he could lean against the wall, arms dropped limply by his sides, he realized that he cared more about doing whatever he could to wipe the strained and miserable look from his lover’s face than he did about saving his agency.
Jobs would come and go, but there would never be anyone like Desmond in his life again.
“Shit,” he hissed as that mountain came tumbling down on him.
He loved Desmond. Not just for pretend and on weekends only.
He loved him full-time and wanted to be a part of whatever it was he was going through.
More than that, he owed it to Desmond to let him in all the way, too.
The business of his dreams was failing a little more every day, but he could endure that.
He couldn’t handle things with Desmond falling apart.
“So you’re still sniffing around, are you?”
Javier jerked to stand straight and step away from the wall. The voice that pierced his spiraling thoughts was familiar, and when he turned, he saw Matthew sauntering toward him, a smarmy look on his face.
“I heard you were here,” he said, scowling at the arsehole.
Matthew smirked and came to stand by Javier’s side. “I’m always here. This is my spot. You’re in it.”
“I don’t think so.” Javier stood even taller so he could look down on the man. “Whatever claim you had on Desmond, it’s in the past.” He was tempted to say Desmond was his now, but instead he said, “Desmond is his own man and can stand on his own two feet.”
“Oh, really?” Matthew snorted a laugh. “You really think that?”
“I know it,” Javier said, crossing his arms. “I also know that you shouldn’t even be here. Isn’t Pickering Jones suing you for something?”
“They can’t prove anything. My lawyer is going to make sure the lawsuit is dropped,” Matthew said with a shrug. “I’m here on behalf of my new company.”
“Good for you,” Javier said, arching one eyebrow then trying to turn away.
“I think it’s pretty rich that the Peabody Honors are giving Desmond an award for being an ethical businessman, don’t you?” Matthew called after him.
Javier stopped as a frizzling jolt of adrenaline shot through him. He turned sharply back to Matthew, feeling like the answers to all his questions were right in front of him.
“I already know about your sordid dance with his competitor,” he said.
Matthew laughed. “That was nothing. We all had fun.”
Javier stared daggers at him, knowing there was more. He didn’t want to play into Matthew’s hand by asking for it, but he desperately wanted to know everything.