“Coffee?”
“In bed,” Michael agreed. “I liked waking up next to you.”
“Both times?”
“Yes, but the second time was nicer.” He held his breath, waiting for Jag to respond. A brief glance told him the young man was staring forwards, his brow pinched.
“It was nice,” Jag said after a long pause. “Is nice.” And yet he sounded weary.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Not at all.” Jag put his coffee down and then turned to embrace Michael, holding him tightly. He draped his leg over Michael’s and traced his fingers over his abs. “Will you tell me about Edward?”
Michael blinked fiercely.
“Sorry,” Jag said. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay.” Michael pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. “Most guys I’ve dated hated it when I even mentioned him.”
“I’m not ‘most guys’.”
No, he really wasn’t. Michael puffed out a breath. “Edward was amazing. Warm, funny, kind.”
“He was a dancer, too?”
Michael nodded. “Yes, it’s how we met.” He smiled. “We had a friendly rivalry for the first few weeks to see who could do the most private dances. It got quite hilarious at times as we vied for the same punters. I’m sure some of them were utterly bewildered.”
“I bet. Havingtwohot guys offering to strip for them.”
“He bet me that I couldn’t beat him every night for a week. If I won, he’d take me out to dinner.”
“And if you lost?”
“I’d have to give him half my tokens for the last night.”
“I bet he lost,” Jag said, laughter in his voice.
“Yes,” Michael replied dreamily. “I don’t think he even tried.” He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “God, I loved that man.”
“Love,” Jag said softly.
“Yes. I miss him so much.” Michael’s chin trembled, and then a sob broke free of him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Jag gently took the coffee mug from Michael’s hand and set it on the table. “Let it out.”
Michael hunched over and pressed his face against Jag’s shoulder as tears overwhelmed him. He hadn’t cried so hard over Edward in years, but with Jag holding him, he couldn’t keep his grief inside. He let it all out until his chest ached and there were no tears left to be shed. Jag was stroking his hair, alternating between kissing the top of his head and whispering calming nothings into his ear.
He lifted his head, his face damp with tears, and cupped Jag’s cheek in his hand. “Thank you,” he whispered before pressing into a hard, lingering kiss.
“For what?”
“Letting me talk about him. For being you. For being amazing.”
Pink coloured Jag’s cheeks. “I’m not—”
“You are. I have never met a man who wasn’t jealous of Edward’s memory.” He knew he was likely to regret his next words, but he said them anyway. “I’m going to miss you.”
Jag’s gaze became fractured, his mouth drooping at the corners. “Me too,” he whispered.
