It takes a moment for Thom’s words to hit me, and then I nearly choke on my tongue. “For…Rome? Like…in Paris?”
He rolls his eyes. “Dude. No. It’s a welcome home party.”
A ringing starts in my ears, dull and unfiltered. Welcome home party? What the fuck does he mean by welcome home party?
I rub at my temples, an ache forming behind my eyes.
Thom leans forward. “Are you okay? I know you know what a welcome home party is.”
Shit, did I say that out loud?
“Yes,” Thom says slowly. “And you said that too.”
I fight the urge to slap my hand over my mouth. Instead, I breathe slowly and gain control of myself. “Cool. Well…it sounds like a blast and a half, but I don’t think I should come to that.”
Thom blinks. “Uh? Why not?”
“Because Rome hates me,” I say, like that should be obvious. Of course, Thom doesn’t know that Rome and I hooked up more than once.
Or how Rome was soft with me for a moment. How he promised he’d stay. How he left without a word and iced me out for three fucking years.
Thom makes a noise of impatient irritation. “He doesn’t hate you.”
I lift a brow at him.
“Seriously, he can be kind of elitist, but he gets over himself when he knows you’re serious about learning ASL, and you’ve been working your ass off since he’s been gone.”
I have. Not for him, I tell myself. It was absolutely not for him. Unfortunately, those words cut like a sharp-edged lie as I think them.
“Anyway, Robbie said he’s been incredibly homesick. He had kind of a shit time in France.”
Good, I think sourly, even as that makes my chest ache. I clear my throat. “Yeah, well…I don’t want to make it awkward by showing up.”
Thom stares, and then realization dawns on his face. “Awkward how? You mean that night? Dude, he probably doesn’t even remember.”
Fuck, Thom has no idea how deep those words cut because they’re probably true. Rome seems like the kind of guy who could fuck my brains out three times and then forget I ever existed.
“Just think about it,” Thom says to my continued silence. “It could be fun.”
It could be. But it could also be fucking torture.
Thom gets up and taps the edge of my desk, softer this time. “I’ll send you the address. His flight gets in at noon on Saturday, so we’re planning to meet around five.”
“I’ll,” I begin, then hesitate when Thom looks all doe-eyed. It’s the same look he always used to get his way when we were kids. Fucker. “I’ll think about it.”
He softens. “Cool. I’m gonna go get this last spin class done, then Robbie and I are going out for dinner. You, ah…” He hesitates for a second. “You’re welcome to come.”
A pity invite. No, thank you.
“I have plans,” I lie.
He smiles like I’m telling the truth. “Okay. Text me later. And I’ll make sure Robbie brings those gummies on Saturday…you know, in case you need one.”
I flip him off, and he grins. Robbie’s gummies should come with a goddamn disaster warning because no one can handle them. Not even him. But the idea is tempting.
Thom shoots me finger-guns, and then he’s gone without a care in the world, like he didn’t just upend mine entirely.
It really is a shame I’m not polyamorous, I think as I sit in a Lexi-Drew sandwich. Drew isn’t bi either. He’s just one of the rare, kind, sensitive straights who like to cuddle. The kind of guy I thought I was before Rome came along and fucked me six ways to Sunday.
