“It’s okay.” He holds up a hand. His smile is sad. “Karim’s put us in touch with some good people.”
“Karim? The boyfriend?” The very idea hurts. He trusts the boyfriend more than me.
“He’s a doctor. The boys’ doctor, as it turns out.” Nash leans back in his chair, arms spread behind his head. I’ve fucked him on that chair, even if it wasn’t awesome. I’ve kissed him in this office, watched as he took me into his mouth and brought me a kind of control and grounding I didn’t know how to find otherwise. Right now, the space of the desk might as well be an ocean for how far away Nash feels.
“And you didn’t feel like you could tell me any of this?” I sink into the seat opposite his desk. I sat here the first time I came to the office. I was surprised when they brought me to see him. In bigger organizations like the festival, I almost never meet the person in charge. And he looked me in the eye, and I knew I was going to have to really wow him if I wanted to keep this account. I threw everything I had at him. Every ounce of charm, every single thing I could do to make his life easier. And it worked. That first day, I could never have imagined what he’d be to me.
“It’s a lot. So much. Dominic’s been in overdrive all week, and Jacob’s going to need help to—”
“He’s not dying,” I say. “I didn’t die. For fuck’s sake, Nash, I started my own business at twenty-five. You don’t write kids off just because—"
“I’m not writing anyone off.” For a moment, his cool exterior cracks and real emotion—real fear—leaches through. And I’m sorry he’s struggling, but I’m also getting the very distinct sense that if anyone’s being written off, it’s me, especially when he says, “You don’t get it. There’s so much pressure.”
“I can do pressure.” If I can do the football phone, I can do this.
“You have too much already. I promised your dad I’d—”
“He worries about things he shouldn’t.” We don’t need his concerns muddying the waters here.
“No, he’s exactly right,” he says. “This is going to need my full attention for the next while. The programs. The research. It’s all so much.”
“You’re talking about this like you have one shot to deal with this. Like if you don’t have a magic pill by the end of the month, it’s all over.”
“Dominic says—”
I don’t know Dominic, but between this and the puckered look on his face at the restaurant, I don’t like him. “This isn’t an all-or-nothing game, Nash. You’ve got time. You can wait for the school year to start. Talk to his teachers. We can call my dad.” I’ll call the goddamned tooth fairy if it gets Nash to stop looking so fucking defeated.
“You’re not—” He shakes his head, and the resignation on his face makes me go cold.
“I’m not what?” I say, gripping the arms of the chair. My toes are curled in my shoes.
“You’re not their father. You aren’t responsible for—”
“I’m not their father, but I’m your...” I fumble for the word. Shit. Why didn’t we talk about this sooner? Why didn’t I tell him? No time like the present, I guess. “Nash, I love you. Let me help.” Even if I only make him dinners and keep his bed warm. I can do something.
But he only shakes his head again. “You’re too young for this.”
My head snaps back. “I’m what?”
“You have too much going on as it is. I mean, you can’t even leave your phone alone for dinner.”
Well, fuck you too. But my voice is small when I say, “You said that was okay.”
“It is.” He looks so earnest, and somehow that’s worse. “It’s what you should be doing. Run your business. Figure out who you are. Getting tangled up with me was a mistake. You don’t need to be worrying about my kids. That’s not for you to do.”
A mistake? The word is a slap. “Because I’m too young?” He’s never brought this up before. Never once made me feel less than an equal. And suddenly, now I’m too young? Not too young to suck his dick. Not too young to fix his computer. I’m not too young to take his abuse on the phone or take his body the way I know drives him wild. But to be an actual partner, when he needs someone to lean on, now I’m not ready?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know this hurts. They need me right now. Maybe he gets into this school. If Dominic will... We can still get together sometimes. You and I could still—” He gets this pinched expression on his face, and before, when he was the asshole who called about his IT problems and we snarked back and forth, I would have laughed at how vulnerable he looks. Now I ache all over, and I can’t take his pain too.
“You think I’d still want to have sex with you?” I hiss, rising to my feet. “You think you can ghost me for a week while you overreact to some family crisis I’m apparently too young to understand? You think I’m dumb enough to fuck you after that?”
He puts his face in his hands. “What? No. That didn’t come out right. Brady. They’re my family. I’ve never been good at being there for them, but—”
“But what? You’re going to throw us away just like that? I’m sorry you’re having problems. I’m sorry your kid isn’t perfect. No one is. No relationship is.”
“It’s not about perfect, it’s about—”
“It’s about knowing where your priorities are. You’re choosing them over me, and you have to. But I’m not going to wait around in case you text looking for a booty call. We were past that and you know it.”
