I gather the papers on the table, sorting them into one big stack, unable to hide my smile.
“That good, huh?” He bumps my shoulder, his smile uncommonly bright.
I nod as my cheeks heat up. I’m not sure why I’m blushing, but every time I think about Ronan, I want to burst into song, or something else equally embarrassing.
Yeah…I’m gonna keep that one to myself.
Finally, I’m able to meet his eyes. Lifting a shoulder, I give the only explanation that comes to me. “He’s the love of my life, DB. I wasn’t thrilled with him working with us at first, but…if you hadn’t brought him on board, we’d have ignored our feelings for each other for god knows how long. Probably the rest of our lives, and I can’t even imagine that now.”
First the desire to sing and now I’m near tears? I should be embarrassed or something, but I can’t quite manage it.
DB’s laugh resonates in the enclosed space. “Fuck, dude. You’re glowing! I’d ask if you were pregnant, but actually…you’ve kind of trimmed down.”
I flex my considerable muscles. “What’re you saying, man?”
“Oh, don’t get it twisted. You’re still pretty. But you’ve lost some bulk. It looks good on you, but is it purposeful?”
My smile is genuine, though shyer. “Yeah. Ronan made me realize that I didn’t have to punish myself just to maintain an image. At least not for him. I mean, I still go hard, but I balance it out with yoga and Ro’s homemade pasta. I don’t even have a six-pack anymore,” I say, rubbing my belly.
“Bullshit. Lemme see,” DB says, laughing incredulously.
I lift my shirt, and he laughs even harder.
“Fuck’s sake, dude. You’ve still got the lines. They’re just not deep trenches anymore. You’re built like a fucking tank.”
“What’s weird is that because I’m not as bulky, I’m actually faster.” I gesture at him. “Meanwhile, you’re still shredded, even with your fucked-up knee.”
He shrugs as though his muscles don’t strain against his fitted button-down and tailored slacks. “Eh, office life is actually harder to combat than the knee, but I’ve got a lot of friends up at my gym, and we keep each other going. Kinda like what you’ve got going here.”
“So, things are good on the personal front?”
He immediately reads that for what it is: an indirect question about Odd. Grimacing, he shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing with my personal life, to be honest. I’m just trying to stay afloat with everything, y’know?”
“I do. But I was mistaken when I thought I had to keep everything separate. I almost lost out on him, and I’d hate for you to lose out on something that could really be special for you.”
“I appreciate that, man. I do. But I need time to work it out.” Shifting gears—changing subjects, really—he asks, “So, how are things with your dad?”
“Eh, my father’s been pretty nasty, blaming me for everything, threatening to cut me out of an inheritance I don’t need or want.”
And fuck if that doesn’t hurt every damn time. It was like he’d been holding back while my mom was alive.
I keep that last part to myself, but DB, my stoic, serious friend, hears me loud and clear. Opening his arms, he gives me a hug. “Hey, man, that sucks. You’re the best son a family could ask for. Don’t let his grief and generalized misery tell you any different.”
It’s a little awkward with our difference in height, but it might be what I need anyway. “Thanks, DB,” I say, wiping my eyes.
“Of course. And if we need to move you off ops for a while, just let me know.”
I shake my head as Ronan, Jake, and Parker make their way into the room. “It’s helpful to have a project.”
“You got it. But let me know if that changes,” he says before turning to greet everyone.
Ronan sees my face and immediately comes up to me, stroking my arm. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “DB asked about Dad.”
He grabs my hand as we sit, and it’s a bittersweet sentiment to feel sad and so very loved. I thank whatever deity or spiritual dimension that brought this man to me; I can’t imagine going through life’s ups and downs without him at my side.
I pull myself together as the room fills up, and in short order, we have a quorum.
