“Fuck,” he muttered, pawing at the counter. “Dammit, where did it?—”
He stopped as I touched his hand. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I forced myself to hold his gaze. The fact that it was a little unfocused made that a whole lot easier.
“I’ll get it. I can see it.”
Simon sniffed again as I picked the contact up and dropped it back in the case. I was nearly certain he shouldn’t put it back in his eye after it’d been in a public bathroom sink, but this was my first experience with contacts at all.
It was Simon’s, too, as far as I knew. He’d always worn glasses.
He was wearing contacts this weekend for my benefit. Because he didn’t want to embarrass me.
Never in a million years would I deserve this man. No matter what he said about it.
“You got your glasses on you?” I asked, clicking the contact case closed. If he didn’t, I was calling an Uber and we were going back to the house to get them—or back to the city, if that was where they were. It was the least I could do for him.
Simon reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He swore as something slipped out of his fingers, clattering on the floor and sliding away under the sinks.
“I got it,” I said again, crouching before he could stop me.
When I saw what he’d dropped, my heart did something complicated. It was the frog-print glasses case I’d given him… at least five years ago.
It hadn’t been any kind of grand gift—I’d picked it up at a flea market I’d been dragged to on a date for pocket change and given it to him casually the next time I’d seen him. Simon didn’t necessarily love frogs, but I remembered he’d complained about the hinge breaking on his glasses case a week or so before, and I knew he wouldn’t replace it for himself.
Clearly, he hadn’t replacedthisone, either. The print was faded now, worn off at the edges. The corners were scuffed, and the exposed hinge was starting to rust.
But he’d kept it.
I stood up, turning the case over in my hands. If I was going to do what I’d come in here to, I needed to do itnow, before I lost my nerve.
“I owe you an apology,” I started. “On top of coffee and dinner for life and my undying gratitude.”
“Forget it.” Simon shrugged.
“No,” I said before he could say anything else. Not this time. Simon forgave me foreverything, without question. Without waiting for an apology.
He deserved better than that from me.
“No,” I repeated. “I’m not forgetting it. I was wrong. I was…”
I paused to swallow, turning the case over in my hands as I forced myself to keep looking him in the eyes. Simon, thankfully, didn’t interrupt me again. His eyes glinted as he searched my face, the corner of his lower lip caught between his teeth.
If we’d really been dating, I would’ve smoothed this over with a blowjob. I didn’tdoapologies. I never knew how, because if I started, where did I stop? The look on Simon’s face earlier had made me sorry I’d ever been born. I knew he wouldn’t accept an apology forthat, though.
“You know I’m not great with words,” I said. He did know. It was my literal job to be good with words, but that was in books. This was real life, and I’d never been good at real life. Not when it reallymattered. It mattered right now, and I was terrified I was going to screw this up.
Simon knew, usually, what I meant. Or at least, I took for granted that he did, and he always seemed to understand me.
But he needed words here. I had to try to find the right ones, or risk losing him forever. Like I almost had the last time we’d been here. The last time I hadn’t had the right words for him, when it really mattered.
“You are the single sweetest, kindest man on the face of the planet,” I began, picking each word as though I was trying to navigate a minefield with a metal detector. “And that’s…”
That’s why I love you so much it hurts to think about.
“… that’s why you put up with me, for a start.”
Simon took a breath, but I held up the glasses case to stop him.
“It’s also what makes youyou. I wouldn’t want you any different. You’re right. I don’t own you, and you’re allowed to be nice to my sister and my ex because that’s just the kind of person you are. I…”
