Iago sighed. “Because truthfully, you haven’t been with anyone since you broke things off with Philip.”
Othello closed his eyes. He could understand what Iago meant. He didn’t want to think about Philip Montano, the man he thought he’d spend his life with, only to discover the man was cheating on him. It hurt worse that Phillip was sleeping with Cassio Ricci, the brother of Dominico Ricci, the boss of the Ricci family. Othello was hurt and angry; honestly, he wanted to kill the man, but he disappeared before Othello could get the chance. Trust and loyalty were important to him, especially when he’d given his entire heart to someone, only to have it trampled on.
After Philip, he hadn’t been in another relationship or even slept with anyone in the past two years since he broke it off, and his ex-lover left Verona Heights, never to be seen or heard from again. He stole a glance at the little doc, who had moved from sitting at the island and was now looking out the window with a troubled expression. He realized he should probably correct his friend’s assumption that what he was thinking was far from the truth.
“Alright, I’ll see you when you get here,” Iago said and hung up before Othello could say anything.
Sighing, he looked at the dark screen, shaking his head, then set the device down. He focused on the doctor still standing at the window, staring out as if he had the world resting on his shoulders. Othello wasn’t sure why or how he came to that conclusion, but he knew something was bothering the doctor. Standing, he went back to the kitchen and made breakfast as promised, with neither speaking, leaving the television to do the talking for them. When everything was done and plated, Othello got the doctor’s attention.
“Hey, Doc, breakfast is ready.” The man didn’t move or make a sound to indicate that he had heard Othello. Furrowing his brows, he walked over to him and lightly tapped the doctor on the shoulder.
He wasn’t shocked when the guy almost jumped out of his skin, and the empty coffee mug slipped from his hands. It was a good thing Othello caught it before it hit the ground. The doctor glanced at the cup in Othello's hand, then at his face. He seemed like he was going to cry, but he stopped himself by biting his lip. Othello was about to ask the doctor if he was okay, but held back. He’d already delved too far into the man’s personal life. He’d promised to feed him and send him on his merry way.
“The food is ready,” Othello said.
“Oh,” the doctor responded, sounding a bit lost. “You really didn’t have to make me anything.”
“It’s no bother.” Othello shrugged. “I’m also hungry and was in the mood for a Spanish omelet. Besides, my mama would skin me alive if she knew I sent you off with an empty stomach. She’s all about propriety and being a gracious host.” He smiled, and the doctor smiled as well, and it seemed to pull the man out of his funk just a little. “Come on. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”
Othello walked back to the kitchen area. He didn’t look to see if the doctor was following him. He’d done far more than what was required of him. Before he sat down to eat, Othello poured them both another cup of coffee. Just as he sat the mugs down, the doctor joined him in the breakfast nook. They began to eat, and silence descended on them again, except for the television that had been switched from the local news. Neither seemed bothered by the noise as they ate their meal.
When Othello was halfway done with his omelet, a soft voice cut through the quiet atmosphere around them.
“Have you always wanted to do what you do?”
“What do you mean?” Othello glanced at the doctor, who still had more than half of his meal on his plate.Should I feel offended that he’s not eating?
“I mean, you work for your father’s company. I think it was construction, right?”
“Yeah,” Othello answered.
“What is it, your choice or your father’s choice?”
“A bit of both.” Don Alejandro had given him and Iago the choice to back out after graduating from college, to step away from the underworld, as he had when he asked them the first time. “I wanted to work with my father. I knew since I was about thirteen. But I also have my own side investments.”
“Oh,” he said and returned to pick up his food.
“Don’t you like the omelet?” Othello asked.
“Oh no,” he said, gaping at Othello with wide eyes. “It’s great. There's just so much on my mind right now. I’m sorry. I feel bad for wasting the food you took the trouble to prepare for me.”
Othello shook his head, more worried about the doctor than annoyed that he ate little of his meal. He pushed both their plates to the side. “I know we’re not friends, but what the hell happened to you? You’re not the same man I met six months ago, and I’m not talking about the new look.”
“It’s no...”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing or none of my business,” Othello said, cutting him off. “Come on, Doc, talk to me.”
“I killed a patient,” he cried out as tears streamed down his face.
Othello acted without thinking, grabbing the doctor by his neck and pulling him into his arms.
“I tried to save him. I really did, but there was so much blood, and I couldn’t see and...” He wailed into Othello’s chest.
“Shh...it’s okay,” he soothed, wondering what the fuck he was doing. When he’d asked the doctor what was bothering him, Othello hadn’t expected it to be something on that level. “Hey, Doc, I don’t normally do the grunt work, but if you need help hiding the body, I don’t mind doing the lifting this once.”
The doctor stopped crying briefly, and his shoulders began to shake lightly. Othello thought he’d started crying again until he heard snickers, and he pulled his head back, chuckling. Othello sat there staring at the gorgeous pink tear-stained cheeks, listening to the sweet laughter coming from the man’s cherry lips.
Fuck, he’s beautiful. He should smile more.
