HowdesperateI felt to make everything as perfect as I could.
Because I wanted Elliot tolikeme. So that he wouldn’t tell Leo to get rid of me.
Because I was too blind back then to see that it wasn’t a problem. At all. Because Elliot was already in love with me, and neither I nor Leo knew it.
Next week, I’ll start decorating for Christmas, and Leo plans to be here to help. No trip to California for me this year. Probably not for Leo, either.
There’s way too much to do with a transition to choreograph.
Elliot will fly out to Nebraska on Thanksgiving Day with Stella to eat with their family, and I’ll be going with them. I want Leo to come, too, but that’s still up in the air, depending on President Samuels’ schedule.
Walking through the house, I end up in the den, standing behind the leather sectional sofa that’s been the sight of plenty of fucking over the past eight years.
Admittedly, one of the reasons I selected it. I wanted a piece of furniture roomy enough for the three of us and easy to clean.
I think about all the memories Elliot and I have made in here since my return.
The sight of Grace’s dead face flashes through my mind and I struggle to erase it.
I’ve had nightmares. Most of them involving Elliot being charged with rape because I didn’t kill her and I somehow erased the video proving she was lying, or Leo somehow getting blamed and nothing I said changing the detectives’ minds.
Varieties along those lines, all of them sharing the central theme that the men I love are forced to atone formysins.
That truly would be Hell.
How I long for the days when my nightmares were of gunshots in the club.
I finally head upstairs, just to find them both still dressed. Elliot’s sitting on the padded bench, his arms wrapped around Leo and Leo holding him, massaging his scalp.
“There’s my baby boy,” Leo says, smiling.
Except I see the exhaustion there.
I’d really hoped for marathon fucking tonight, except…no.
I’m not even sure if I have the energy to get up off the floor if I kneel.
I walk over to them and wrap my arms around Leo from behind and deeply inhale. I rest my hands on Elliot’s shoulders and scrunch my fingers through his blazer.
“We aren’t going to be swinging from the chandelier tonight,” I finally say when neither of them make any moves or break the silence.
Elliot snorts. “Thank god you said it first. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“What time do we need to be up in the morning?” Leo asks.
“We can sleep in until ten. He needs to be at the White House by eleven for a photo opp with President Samuels, Ciro, and everyone. I already asked Secret Service to shoot to kill for anything less than NatSec emergencies.”
Elliot snorts again, and even Leo chuckles.
I’m so tired, it takes a sec for me to realize what I just did. “I meant Vice President-elect Bardales.Dammit.” The man’s insisted I call him Ciro so many times during the campaign that I’m going to have to retrain myself.
This time, Leo laughs, turning in our embrace so he’s facing me and can hold me. “It’s okay, baby boy. No one expects you to be perfect all the time.”
“Yeah, but I can’t make that mistake in front of staff or press.” I bury my face against his throat and inhale again.
I’ve missed him so much.
I’ve missedHim.
