“Mm.” He sounds non-committal.
“And the lake-facing wall needs to be pulled down and replaced with floor-to-ceiling glass.”
“Mm,” he says again. I think I’ve lost his attention, but then he adds, “And a dock would be nice.” He gestures with both hands to the spot he’s thinking of. “Right over there.”
“No,” I say flatly. “No dock. Definitely not. It would disrupt the view.”
He looks at me with what’s becoming a familiar, low-level of astonishment. “A dockwouldbe nice, because then I could have a boat for fishing and stuff.”
“Is that what you’re planning, huh? Are you planning on meeting some Marlborough Man, calling him Mr. Right, and bringing him out here? Planning to wife the poor dude up and park him out there on the dock so the two of you can wear matching flannel shackets and catch fish together? That the big plan?”
“No. I’m not looking for love.”
Not the answer I’m expecting from an alleged avid romance reader. “Why not?”
“’Cause for someone to love you, they’ve got to know you. All of you. They’ve got to know you and they’ve still got to want to stay. For me, that’s unrealistic.”
I don’t answer but I press my lips together tightly as I consider his statement. I wasn’t expecting him to give me an answer, much less an answer that sets off a series of little bombs in my brain. The truth detonates around me. It falls, landing lightly, but cutting deep just the same. In a single second, I see the face of every guy I’ve ever held at arm’s length, or pushed away and for the first time, I know why I did it.
“Bedtime,” I say.
*
“Rise and shine, Demon.” He switches on the overhead light. It’s bright and a horrible way to wake up, so I groan and put the pillow over my head. He pulls it off. “Come on, up and at ‘em.”
God. If this is his mood, it’s not going to be a good day.
“Time to go. Your car will be here in a few minutes.”
I sit up bolt upright. “What do you mean?”
“They’ll probably find your uncle today or tomorrow, so you need to get home in case the cops decide to break the news to you in person.”
I jump out of bed and pull my clothes on. By the time I’m ready, he’s in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee for both of us.
“Now, don’t forget you’ve had COVID. You had chills and a fever, but fortunately, it didn’t go to your chest. You tested negative this morning, but you’re still suffering from a little fatigue. When they tell you about your uncle, seem surprised. Shock and disbelief are the normal response to this type of news. Don’t overplay it by starting to sob, or anything like that. Say ‘are you sure?’ and ‘but I just saw him last week.’ When they tell you what happened, act like you can’t believe it at first, but then say, ‘He did seem a little withdrawn the last time I saw him.’ Things like that, okay?”
I nod.
He checks his watch and says, “Time to go.” He’s fully dressed in his usual uniform of a muscle T with cargo pants and hiking boots. The pants cup his ass so snuggly that as I watch him rinse out our mugs, I suddenly feel an almost overwhelming sadness, loss almost, at the fact that the whole time I’ve known him, I haven’t topped him once. I want to ask him about it, to check if he ever bottoms, just so I’ll know. Just so I won’t have to waste lots of my time wondering or thinking about what it would be like to bury my dick between his ass cheeks.
He starts the dishwasher, wipes down the counters and carefully folds the kitchen towel. His rucksack is packed and leaning against the wall near the front door.
Time’s up for dumb questions for Saint.
He heads for the door, and I follow him.
“Thanks would be nice,” he says, giving me a look that dances with darkness.
“Thanks for what? Killing my uncle, or kidnapping me?”
“Both.”
“Yeah, good luck with that. Anyway, you’re the one who should be thanking me. You can’t ask me to believe you’ve ever had a more laid-back kidnapping victim, or one that let you break their ass better than I did.”
He makes a quick, deep sound that comes from low in his throat. “’Fraid the best I can do is say thanks for leaving me with my sanity intact.”
He hands me a small parcel wrapped in tin foil.
