But he was tired of hiding out with his laptop on the bottom floor. It was feeling more familiar, that bedroom. Coming back to it each night. The bed was comfortable. He’d need to do laundry today; cleaning his cabin from the renters had taken longer than he’d expected yesterday, and he’d never gotten around to it. Once he did have clean clothes, though, he might even start keeping them in the drawers of the dresser instead of living out of a suitcase.
But it was still someone else’s room in someone else’s house.
And last night was the first night since he’d moved in that sleep hadn’t come easy. Not only had he been concerned for Emerson, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his and Julie’s conversation at the end of the night. About how she and Ben were staying in Dell McCleary’s guest house.
“Have you ever been to his place?” she’d asked as they walked down the dirt road in the fading twilight. “It’s gorgeous.”
Luca had only been able to shake his head.
He and Dell had only ever met at Luca’s cabin. But he’d heard that it was beautiful, knew Dell had built the guest house from the ground up. Dell had told him some things, the two years they knew each other.
They just hadn’t known each other well enough for Dell to actually invite him to see it.
His mind had gone to fucked up places once the sun had gone down, once he was alone. Rethinking his and Dell’s last real conversation. Not the casual ones they had sometimes when they saw each other in town now, when they happened to be at the IGA at the same time. Or whenever Luca was brave enough to visit Mae’s bookshop, and Dell was there too.
Because Dell had invited Mae Kellerman to see his house the minute they’d shown up in town.
Not that Luca had a right to be upset about that, not at the time and especially not now. His and Dell’s relationship had always had clear boundaries they’d each agreed to. And that last conversation, when Dell had suggested something more, some type of open relationship between the three of them—Luca’s gut had rejected it immediately. He knew he was the one who’d said no, who’d technically walked away.
Even if it had felt an awful lot like being left.
Still, picturing a beautiful man like Ben getting to sleep ina room Dell had designed, getting to drink coffee in his kitchen—hell, maybe they were all fucking each other. Sure, Ben had seemed pretty devoted to this Alexei guy, same with Julie and her partner, but Ben and Julie had also been pretty touchy-feely with each other all night. Maybe they were all getting to touch each other, up on that hill Luca had never been invited to. Maybe Luca could’ve been part of it, if he’d said yes.
Except he knew his jealousy was full of shit. He’d still say no, if Dell asked him today. He knew he would. He knew he was being problematic.
He just missed having Dell in his own bed.
He missed havinganyonein his bed.
He’d hooked up with exactly one guy in the year since Dell had dumped him, just a single, app-connected night with someone who was passing through. It’d been a good night, to be clear, but it had also been months ago. Luca was lonely and touch-starved, but he’d always been lonely, even when he was with someone. Even when he was surrounded by his family. He always held himself back just a little too much. Always spent a little too much time in his head. He didn’t know why. Just seemed like the way his brain had always been wired.
Anyway. Point was, staying in bed in a dark room wasn’t doing him any favors. If he was going to torture himself, might as well do it in the daylight, with a cup of coffee.
“I’ve been avoiding them,” he added now. “My spreadsheets. They sort of…track my failures.”
“Luca.” Emerson’s mouth quirked back up as he looked at him again. And it was so rare that Luca received the gift of this combination—direct eye contact, a smile, Luca’s name on Emerson’s lips—that his breath caught. “That’s what my spreadsheets do, too.”
“Nah.” Luca smiled back. “I saw the look on your face when you described the firstone.”
Emerson’s gaze dropped back to his screen, but the grin on his face remained.
“Yeah,” he conceded. “I do love that one.”
Reluctantly, Luca shoved off the counter and finally picked up his computer. He contemplated walking around the island and sitting on the stool next to Emerson’s. They’d just had, by all accounts, a real conversation. Probably the first one since Luca had moved onto the farm. Maybe they were friends now.
But then he glanced at the bags under Emerson’s eyes and kept walking until he reached the kitchen table. Emerson had made it clear over the last week that he was a man who kept to himself, too. He’d probably appreciate a bit of space.
Still. Luca positioned himself on the side of the table against the wall, underneath Emerson’s whiteboards and across from the island, so he could sneak peeks at him when he wanted. Luca might not understand how to craft true human connection, but he wasn’t a complete masochist.
He navigated to his regular email, the one only full of junk mail, Meta trying to get him to log on to Facebook more. It was a waste of time, maintaining this inbox at all, but at least it was neutral. At least none of these emails told him what a talentless piece of shit he was. It was always a nice warm-up, of sorts.
He’d just clicked on his user icon to switch accounts when Emerson spoke again.
“What are your spreadsheets about?”
Luca glanced up. Emerson was looking at him, gaze steady.
Luca was already preparing to brush it off, shoulders lifting in an automatic shrug. But something stopped him, yanked whatever words he’d been about to say back inside his throat.
