“I’m going to get dressed, then get out of here. I’ll need to head back to Bistro Chatelaine to pick up my car from the parking lot, then head over to get Nikki.” Vincent ran his hand down the doorframe. “You stay in bed and rest, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow at your appointment.”
“Let me drive you back to the parking lot,” Mal insisted. He started to get out of bed, but Vincent shook his head.
“You’re going to need plenty of rest over the next month,” Vincent reminded him. “We’re still testing out the injection, so there’s no way to anticipate exactly what will happen, but I can promise you that you’ll be going into heat. The fact that you slicked yourself for me tells me that you’re already partway there.”
“I’ve been through heats before,” Mal argued. “I’ll survive.”
“But after three rounds of IVF, and now an untested fertility drug?” Vincent looked back at him. “It’d make me feel better if you took some blockers preventively, stayed in bed, and relaxed. All I have to do is go to work in the morning—you’ve got to worry about your whole life flipping on its head.”
Mal didn’t want to give in to his demands, but he saw sense in what Vincent said. “Fine,” he relented.
“Doctor’s orders,” Vincent said with a warning wag of his finger.
“I hate that you can use that against me.” Mal sank back onto the bed, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it over his face. From beneath, he asked, “Can I at least show you to the door?”
“Since I asked you to take blockers, which I assume means a trip to the bathroom, I’ll allow that.” The sound of Vincent’s voice was playful. “But I really have to get going, or Gwynn will skin me alive… although Nikki’s probably excited for the sleepover. When I introduced her to Matthew tonight, I could almost see the hearts in her eyes.”
“Matthew?” Mal choked back a laugh and pulled the pillow from his face. “Laurence’s teenage son?”
“Nikki is going to be six before the month is out, and the boy craziness is coming on early.” Vincent pushed a hand through his damp hair and sighed. “I’m partially convinced that I’ll have to ship her off to a nunnery while she’s a preteen, and partially hopeful that she’ll burn herself out on boys now, before they pose any real threat.”
“Burn out on boys and move on to girls.”
“Don’t even joke.” Vincent spoke flatly, but Mal still heard a laugh lurking behind his tone. “I was sure that her obsession withHeaven, Lockedwas going to turn into some kind of crush on Leah, but so far, so good. Don’t jinx me. I already have to deal with, ‘can we light my bedroom withfire?’ and ‘demons don’t eat vegetables,’ and I really don’t need to add on whether or not it’s appropriate to kiss a poster of a teenage actor for ‘practice.’”
“Aren’t they sweet?” Mal got out of bed, slipped into a pair of pajama pants, and joined Vincent at the door. They progressed into the bathroom, where Vincent collected his shirt. “I remember some of my kids at six. They get so curious about the world. The girls always seem to develop earlier than the boys, but it’ll even out in time.”
Vincent pulled his shirt on sleeve by sleeve, then did the buttons up in rapid succession. “I think I’m supposed to feel comforted by that, but all I can think of is the teenage angst and rebellion I’m about to face.”
“That’ll get better, too,” Mal assured him.
“When she’s thirty.”
“… Knowing what I know about some of the kids I used to look after, thirty sounds about right.” Mal snorted. Everett and Caleb, two of the kids he’d babysat, were about as mature as teenagers most of the time. They still had a few years to get their lives together, but after what Mal had seen of them in the elevator…
He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it.
“Well,” Vincent moved from the bathroom to the living room, collecting his pants, boxer-briefs, and shoes. They were by the couch, where he’d slung Mal down and fucked him until Mal had come twice—just like Mal had told him to. “Nikki is a good and smart kid. I’ll wait to see what horrors she’ll unleash as she ages. Hormones are a hell of a thing.”
“You’re telling me.”
Vincent flashed him a grin. It shimmered in his eyes, and Mal was struck again by how handsome he was. Was one genetic defect really all that had kept Vincent from finding a happily ever after with someone just as radiant and intelligent as he was?
The thought stuck with Mal. It stretched between his ribs like white glue and dripped into his soul, refusing to be wiped clean.
Of course it was.
One emotional defect had kept Mal from finding his happily ever after. Oftentimes, it felt like there was no space for men like him in a world that clung so stubbornly to the status quo. What Vincent had done by confiding his secret in Mal tonight was the same thing Mal had done by telling Vincent that he bore psychological damage—he’d opened up his soul, made himself vulnerable, and given Mal the ammunition he needed to make a devastating attack. Some men would have used that against him.
Not Mal.
Even if he hadn’t liked and respected Vincent, he understood the pain too well.
Vincent finished dressing, patted his back pocket, then smoothed a hand down his shirt. When he was done, he turned to smile at Mal. “Thank you for the good time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Vincent stepped forward and tugged Mal in for one last kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that had set off smoke detectors earlier that night, but it curled Mal’s toes all the same. He closed his eyes and returned it with fervor, then stepped back and put some distance between himself and Vincent. Pinpricks tumbled down his back, and the air had thickened once more with their chemistry. If he didn’t get himself under control, they’d end up back in bed, and Vincent would never get home to Nikki.
