“I’m serious. I have nothing to contribute. I’m still in the planning stages of this business thing, and even with the job at the restaurant and the two gigs I have scheduled, it’s not enough to help pay even a quarter of the maintenance and other expenses, I’m sure. I don’t want to be a mooch.”
“Shh. It’s okay. I understand. That’s all stuff we can figure out as we go along. All I know is, I don’t want to leave you behind. I want you with me.”
Sean wiggled free and gazed into his face, his eyes so honest and true, Tristan was transfixed. “I want to be with you too. I was afraid to talk about you moving on because I didn’t want to think about being alone again.”
He cupped Sean’s face. “Now you don’t. Because where I’m going is where you belong. Without you, moving on would be going backward.” He’d never said it, never felt it, but the mere thought of not having Sean in his life meant a return to the man he’d been and the life he’d had before they met.
And that was no life at all.
Sean’s damp cheek touched his. “I love you, Tristan. When I wake up and see you next to me, I still don’t believe it’s true and we’re together. Who would’ve thought that grumpy, annoyed man would end up being the most important person in my life?”
Having grown up hearing he was worthless, Tristan’s heart sang at Sean’s words, but he pretend-huffed. “For the last time: I wasn’t grumpy. I was hungry and tired from being up over thirty hours with crap food and no sleep.”
Sean cackled. “Whatever you say.”
He smoothed the hair off Sean’s brow to capture his laughing eyes. “I think I’d rather say I love you too more than anything else. How about that?”
A shy smile crept over Sean’s face, lighting him up, until Tristan knew he’d never need the sun to rise again because as long as he had Sean, he’d always find his way through the darkness.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And the best.”
“Guess I’d better start keeping a list, since I don’t want to get too repetitive.”
Sean kissed him, and he lost himself in the sweet slide of his velvety tongue and soft lips. When his phone buzzed, they both jumped, and seeing the time, he cursed and ran to get ready.
“Shit, I’m late and I have meetings. Look. There’s a lot of stuff we need to talk about. We can have dinner and map it all out.”
“What is this, an expedition?” Sean flopped over on the couch and winced. “All I know is you’re leaving me in my hour of need.” He rubbed his crotch, waggling his brows lasciviously.
“Oh, please.” Finished, he straightened his tie and grabbed his keys. “With you it’s every hour. I have a feeling you’re going to be the death of me.” He grinned and planted a kiss on Sean’s outraged mouth. “But what a way to go.”
* * *
His predecessor, a gruff, older ex-FBI agent with the sense of humor of a doorknob, had taken one look at Tristan’s long hair and scowled, muttering something about liberals and the ruination of the world. In their brief meeting, Tristan sensed he had run the team like a drill sergeant, barking out orders with little to no input from the team.
Not him.
He designated Fridays for weekly wrap-up meetings where he’d do fifteen-minute one-on-ones with each member of his team to listen to concerns, complaints, and ways to improve. He was gratified to hear that there was nothing that couldn’t be corrected without minor adjustments, such as working out vacation times and a few requests to switch shifts.
Larissa Owens was the final person he met with. Her file was thick with late slips and write-ups, but given what he’d observed that week, she seemed a conscientious worker, despite her request for several hours off twice a week on a weekly basis. With growing anger, he listened to her explaining that her requests to come in later in the morning were due to her son’s physical-therapy sessions, which she needed to attend.
“And you’re telling me these were denied for all these months?”
“Well, Curtis said I’d have to take my personal time for them because it was too often. But it’s really not. Amos only has two sessions a week, and—”
“Owens, stop. All we need is the doctor’s note. You have heard of Family Medical Leave, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should’ve been told that your son’s PT appointments are covered. Let’s deal with this right away. I don’t mind covering for you on the days you need to come in late. We’re a team. That’s what we do.”
Her lips pressed tight. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to take Amos to therapy. His father’s not in the picture, so…”
“You don’t need to explain. Consider it done.”
“I appreciate it. I love my job, and it’s so much better than working at Rikers.”
He walked her out. “I should hope so.”
