“I’m aware. I also know you told him about us, too.”
“Sorry about that. I was kind of in shock, and it just came out.”
“I’m not upset,” I say.
“Then why are you calling?”
I rub my forehead, letting my elbow drop onto my desk. “I wanted to check on you?”
“Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling too good, but it’s not fatal or anything.”
“Are you taking tomorrow off, too?”
“I don’t know. Why do you ask?Doyou need something?”
“Just wondering what to expect.”
He huffs softly. “Well, I’ll tell you what not to expect.”
I shut my eyes. I had a feeling that was where this was headed. I hazard a guess. “You’re off limits?”
“Bingo.”
“Is it because you know the other guy?” I ask, not happy with his answer even if I was expecting it.
“It’s because the other guy isDeacon,” he says with emphasis and meaning and a slight crack in his voice.
My spine pulls straight, and I push the chair away from the desk so I can lean forward. Resting my elbows on my knees I press the phone to my ear. “You like him?” I ask softly, because maybe if he answers quietly my heart won’t break quite as hard.
“Of course I do, Isaac. You’ve met him. Ilivewith him. He’s like––perfect. So, congratulations.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. “Evan…I didn’t fucking know.”
“And if you had?”
“Which part?” I ask, suddenly bitter beyond reason. “That he’s your roommate or that you have feelings for him?”
“Whichever.”
“I would never deliberately violate your trust or our—whatever you want to call it. Arrangement?”
“Sure,” he says flatly.
“Whatdoyou call it?”
“I call it stupid. A mistake,” he says. “A bad habit.”
I wince. “Fine. Great. So that’s it?”
“That’s it,” he says with a note of desolation in his voice that puts a pang in my heart. He’s shown a few sparks of emotion in this conversation, but he keeps defaulting to despondent. I’d kill for him to go off on me a little. I love his bratty side as much as I love his flirty side and his quick brain, his tight pants and hiskiller smile. Butthis? How he sounds so defeated? This is going to be incredibly difficult. It’s going to hurt so much.
“That’s not what I want, Evan,” I say just so he’s clear.
“No, I understand what you want. You want tall, gorgeous, perfect men with dimples. You want Deacon. And maybe the occasional under the desk BJ, but you’ll have to hire someone else to do that from now on. I think my self-respect just grew back.”
That last statement guts me. “You have no idea how much I respect you?—”
“On paper. Maybe.”
