Footsteps sounded behind him on the stone. “Arthur, really.” Wesley’s deep voice cut through the empty space. “Hasn’t Rory finally gotten you over your brooding?”
Arthur’s eyes stayed on the foliage as Wesley stepped next to him. “Rory’s currently enjoying the company of someone else.”
Wesley struck a match. “Rubbish.”
“It’s true, I’m afraid,” Arthur said heavily, as Wesley lit a cigar—Cuban and expensive, his society smokes, not the cheap cigarettes he actually preferred. “An obnoxiously handsome someone else.”
“I see.” Wesley took a deep drag. “And this someone else has made some kind of move on your alley cat?”
“Well—no,” Arthur admitted. “But why shouldn’t Rory be interested?”
“Becauseyou’rewhat interests him? He’s made that so abundantly clear that I’m frankly not sure why we’re having this conversation.”
“I interested him in the beginning. Who’s to say I should keep that interest?” Arthur gazed into the garden. “He was a recluse, alone. Now he’s coming out of his shell and he’s going to discover the world is full of other people asinterestingas he is.”
Wesley blew out the smoke. “You are a six-foot, three-inch coward. Why did I ever want you back?”
“Ibeg your pardon?”
“Did you know,” Wesley said, breezily talking right over Arthur’s indignation, “that your filthy urchin was ready to fight me for you?”
Arthur blinked.
“Yes,fight, with his skinny arms and tiny fists,” said Wesley. “I must have four stone on him. I’d stormed his antiques shop, tried to bribe him and then threatened to turn him in to the police. But he got up in my face—well, my chin, I suppose—ready for battle, and do you know why?” Wesley leaned in. “Because he wants to be the man who makes youhappy.”
Arthur felt a dizzying pulse of affection for Rory. “I—really?”
“Those were his words.” Wesley pointed with the cigar. “So why aren’t you willing to fight forhim?”
“I would fight—”
“To protect him, yes. But not tokeephim.”
Arthur opened his mouth—and then snapped it shut without saying anything.
“I mean, look at you,” Wesley said. “One tiny obstacle in your way and you’re throwing up the white flag and crying in your tea. For Christ’s sake, pull your head out of your arse. If Rory tells you to fuck off, then yes, fuck off and leave him alone. But don’t run away with your tail between your legs because you imagined some rival and decided you knew what Rory would want better than Rory himself. Honestly, Arthur, give up football and boxing, you’ve clearly taken too many blows to the head.”
Arthur should have been insulted, but his entire body was lightening. “When did you get smart about romance?” he said, with grudging admiration.
“When I made the same mistake.” Wesley took another pull. “I let you go. By the time I’d realized I should have fought to keep you, you’d found someone else. You’re on the same path now, and the only place it leads is waking up alone every morning because you reaped what you sowed. Do you want to be me?”
Arthur’s heart twisted. What was worse, letting Wesley keep believing he’d blown it, or giving him the harsh truth? “It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d fought,” Arthur said quietly, choosing truth, because it’s what he himself would have wanted. “There was nothing you could have said or done to make me stay. I wasn’t in love with you.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
Wesley blew out the smoke in a long, hard stream. “You’re being cruel to be kind,” he murmured, knowingly and tightly. “But I suppose in a way thatisa comfort to hear.” He leaned against the rail. “I didn’t love you either. I hoped maybe I could. Most days I don’t believe I’ll ever love anyone in this life besides my mother, God rest her soul.”
Ouch. Arthur should have remembered he had noharsh truthshalf as sharp as what Wesley hurt himself with.
“So.” Wesley put the cigar between his lips. “Are you in love with Rory?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Oh, Christ, you are,” Wesley said, but he was smiling. “You’re smitten with a twenty-one-year-old hellcat. What’s wrong with you?”
“Apparently that I don’t fight for him,” said Arthur. “I can’t believeyouwere the one to point that out.”
“By all means, don’t thank me,” Wesley said sardonically. “Just continue to be genuinely shocked that I’m capable of empathy and human emotion, that’s very complimentary.” He glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe you should introduce me to the other fellow, the handsome one.”
Wesley, mixed up in the paranormal world. Not in a million years. “Sorry, Wes. But some things you just aren’t meant to know.”
