None of it made sense. And leaving it all unsaid, with only a “see you” between them, didn’t sit right. Much as it would hurt, he needed to hear those final words of good-bye from Win’s mouth to make it real.
His doorbell rang, and though only moments before he’d been talking himself into being better off alone than with a man who refused to commit, he couldn’t help the traitorous jump of his heart. Maybe it was Win…
He ran to the front door and wrenched it open.
“Oh, good, you’re here. Because no way can I eat all this food. I’m supposed to be low-carb as is.” Chattering away, arms loaded with three pizza boxes and a plastic bag, Spencer breezed by him with an air kiss. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks? I think.”
Chess and André brought up the rear with bottles of wine. “After what you told us happened last week between you and Win, we wanted to make sure you’re okay. Wolf is out of town—he’s interviewing witnesses—but says he’ll call you.” Chess kissed his cheek. “How’re you doing?”
“Great. Now I can get nagged at long distance as well as locally. I can only imagine what he has to say. And I’m fine, really.”
“No, you’re not. Stop lying. First, sit and listen to us. Because I, for one, have questions.”
Dramatic as always, Spencer placed his hands on his hips and posed beneath the curved-arch entrance of the living room. That tousled, just-rolled-out-of-bed hair he paid a stylist a fortune to achieve lay in perfect waves, and his icy blue eyes were pinned to Elliot’s face.
Elliot rolled his eyes. “Quelle surprise. Imagine that. You with questions.”
“Listen to me. You drop a bomb, saying you and Detective Hottie aren’t seeing each other anymore, and you think we’re not coming to see you with major reinforcements? Now tell us what happened.”
“Eating my weight in cheese isn’t going to help me find someone else,” he grumbled, locking the door behind Chess and André, who’d remained in the hallway with him.
Chess slid an arm over his shoulder and said, “Sounds like we should have some dinner first, and then,ifyou feel like talking, we’ll see if we can help,” and Elliot was grateful for having friends who didn’t push him.
And then there was Spencer. “Of course he wants to talk. It’s us. He tells us everything.”
With Chess and André flanking him, Elliot walked into the living room to join Spencer, who was in the middle of opening the bag. He took out two containers, which when opened, revealed baked ziti. Elliot hadn’t had much of an appetite that week, but now his stomach growled at the sight of all that melted cheese and pasta.
Unwilling to spill his guts right away, Elliot opened the pizza box and inhaled the rich scent of garlic and tomatoes. “Mm. Damn, this smells good. I didn’t even know I was hungry until you guys came. Thanks for bringing this.”
He munched on his slice noisily. An elbow poked his side.
“Ow.” He jumped, his gaze snapping to Spencer, who returned his glare with one of his own.
“You obviously must be ill if you think I’m going to let you get away with that bullshit.” Then, in a change that made his head spin, Spencer put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ello. Do you want to talk about it?” The sweetness of that small gesture broke him.
“I’m such an idiot.” The delicious pizza soured in his stomach, and he tossed aside the rest of the slice.
Spencer’s lips thinned. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. Except when it comes to men.” Blue eyes regarded him steadily. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Elliot couldn’t meet Spencer’s gaze. “I’m not. I’m just…confused.”
“That’s bullshit.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that from an exasperated Spencer. But the hurt from Win’s shutdown wasn’t something he could put into words. He truly was confused.
“No. It’s not.”
“But you’re not answering me. Why not admit it? You—”
“Spence. Enough.”
Chess didn’t raise his voice often, and it was an equally rare occurrence for Spencer to listen, but to Elliot’s amazement, Spencer pressed his lips tight together, conceding. “Fine. You get him to explain what the hell is going on.”
Chess gave him that sweet smile. “Only if he wants to tell us. Believe it or not, some things might be too personal to share even among us.”
A red flush crept up Spencer’s face, and he blinked and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I-I understand. I didn’t mean to push,” he mumbled. “You have a right to your privacy.”
