Chapter 10 #2
She sighed and drained her glass. “Just be there for him. Listen to him when he needs to speak and give him the grace to recover from his mistakes. Expecting him never to make them and then being surprised when he does is the biggest mistake you could make, under the circumstances.” She stood, fluffed her dress out so it fell smoothly to the floor, then headed for the kitchen.
Ricardo called them for dinner soon after that, ladling out fragrant fricandó into Elodie’s artisanal gold-rimmed bowls before switching them over to a red wine that would go better with the meal.
“Enjoy,” he said as he sat down with them.
They used the table in the kitchen instead of the monstrosity in the formal dining room, and the intimacy of being with his two favorite people at the same time made August smile.
“Mmm.” Elodie hummed with delight after her first bite. “That’s fantastic. And thank you again for cooking, it’s so thoughtful of you.”
“De res,” Ricardo said, not quite meeting her eyes. “It’s the least we can do after invading your privacy.”
“I’d rather have you two for a visit than solitude any day.”
Aw, he was blushing! Elodie was the only person on August’s side of the family whose opinion Ricardo gave a damn about, and it was cute when she managed to fluster him, especially with a compliment.
Everyone relaxed as the meal went on, talking about everything except the jobs they’d just worked. Rebel AI did come up briefly, because Elodie said she’d gotten a message from the VP asking if she was still interested in making a deal, which—
August whistled. “Wow. They didn’t even wait for Bremmer to be cold before moving on, huh?”
“Would you wait?” Ricardo asked. “His leadership was probably as toxic as his actual presence.”
“What would you know about his actual presence? You were never in it.”
“I had to listen to you be in it, which ensured I suffered right along with you.”
“Excuse you, I am a constant and unending delight!”
“I don’t think that’s how you say ‘eternal torment.’”
August picked up a superfluous knife from his table setting and pointed it at his husband. “Is that the way you want to play this? Really? Because—hey!”
“No foreplay at the dinner table,” Elodie said as she plucked the knife from August’s grasp and set it down by her bowl.
“That wasn’t foreplay,” August argued. “We always establish a safe word before we use knives in the bedroom. That was pure threat.”
“From a puppy,” Ricardo said, completely unconcerned at August’s willingness to threaten his life.
Fuck, he really was the perfect man.
Eventually dinner came to an end. Ricardo washed up, because he was incapable of leaving a mess behind after cooking, then they exchanged hugs with Elodie and headed for their suite.
August paused halfway down the hallway and turned around before his sister got to her wing. “Hey! Did the CEO win the argument?”
“No,” Elodie replied with a little shake of her head. “But I paid for the surgery out of pocket as his signing bonus.” She smiled, then closed the door behind her.
Damn.
“What argument? What CEO?” Ricardo asked as they got to their door.
“Just some healthcare bullshit.”
“Merda, no wonder.”
“Exactly.” Yes, the American healthcare system was awful; they’d discussed it ad nauseum when thinking about scheduling another procedure for August’s feet.
No need to rehash it when he was feeling all soft and smushy in the aftermath of dinner and…
probably too much wine. “Hey, did you pack any of our bedroom knives?”
Ricardo burst out laughing as he took August by the hand and led him over to sit down. “Our bedroom knives? Which ones are the bedroom knives?”
“The pretty ones,” August insisted. “With the silver inlay on the sheaths and the handles with the—the handles! You know, the ones with the special handles.”
“As opposed to the ones without handles.”
“Fuck off, I’ve got knives without handles.”
Ricardo kissed his forehead, then bent down to help him out of his shoes. “The sharp side of your tongue doesn’t count.”
August pouted at him. “I was talking about the punch dagger.”
“That comes with a hilt, sweetheart.”
“No, it…” He paused, then shook his head. “Wait, what was I talking about before?”
Ricardo glanced up at him, smirking like a smirky smirker. “Something we’re not going to be doing tonight anyway. Even if I had packed the bedroom knives.” He eased the left shoe off his foot, then started on the right.
It struck August like a sudden blow to the head that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to take off his own shoes.
It was a stupid little thing, the sort of tiny physical chore that wouldn’t even register for most people, but Ricardo helped him do it every night.
And it wasn’t even because it was a prelude to sex—nothing about August’s stupid broken feet were attractive, especially after being on them all day.
It was just something Ricardo did now. A task he’d taken on, without asking, and made his own.
Did August do something like that for him? He couldn’t recall anything.
“Shit, I think you’re winning,” he murmured.
“Winning at what?”
“Husbanding. Being…husbandy. This.” He gestured at Ricardo. “And that pisses me off,” he added. “Because I want to win.”
“Marriage isn’t a competition, August.”
Feet freed, August flopped back flat on the bed. “Yes it is,” he insisted. “And I want to win at it.”
Ricardo toed off his own shoes, then headed for the shower. “Winners brush their teeth before bed.”
“Losers don’t use bedroom knives on their willing husbands!”
“I guess we both lose then.”
Mkay, he’d walked right into that one. August made a pathetic noise and thrust his arms in Ricardo’s general direction. “Carry me?”
“No.”
Ugh, fine.