Page 110 of Tied Over

Bodhi sighed deeply. “Not missing the sarcasm even a little.”

Celso cackled and walked away.

“Your fiancé is a dick,” Bodhi informed Eli.

“At least he doesn’t own questionable sculpture.”

“Yeah,” Ian chimed in. “What the fuck even is that?”

“You know,” White called out from the kitchen, “no one should have this much kids’ cereal. All this sugar will kill you.”

Bodhi flopped down on his couch, which was going home with Dorsey.

“Watch the sofa, man,” Dorsey yelled at him. “It’s not yours anymore.”

“Dude, why do you have so much toilet paper?” Sharpe wanted to know, leaning out of the bathroom.

“More importantly,” Wes chimed in, leaning out farther, since he was in there as well, “how much shit do you need to put in your hair? And how much lube and condoms does one man need?”

I was dying.

Bodhi looked like he wanted to murder someone.

Later, incongruously, ordering pizza turned out to be the most exhausting part of the day: Eli couldn’t have ham on his, and there were restrictions about what the cheese could go with, so he finally agreed to eat the veggie one with Miro and Bodhi. Ian wanted all the meat on his and absolutely nothing green. Celso was horrified and asked who wanted to share a Havarti and artichokes pie with him. No one jumped on that. Dorsey and Ryan could have sausage, but not the spicy kind, because of heartburn, and no one wanted any pineapple. Sharpe liked cheeseburger pizza, but only a couple of people thought that sounded good, and White didn’t understand why just pepperoni wasn’t a thing. We ended up with way more than we needed, which was fine because everyone took home what they ordered.

After everyone left, Bodhi said, “With the extra money from selling my place, we can put in skylights. And we can start on the landscaping in the backyard. I’m thinking hydrangeas. I like the limelight color. How about you?”

“Will the flowers offset the scary sculpture?”

He shot me a look. “You must become one with the art.”

Whatever he wanted. If flowers made the man happy, I was happy. If sculpture you had to explain to everyone did it for him, that was okay too. He also wanted to renovate the kitchen and add a breakfast nook.

“I like nooks,” I assured him.

I got a hug for that, so really, I was on board.

The following week, Crouse’s hearing date was moved up, which I predicted was good for him, and I was right. They needed him back at work. I could tell that from how many questions they didn’t ask me about that night. All they wanted to talk about was his heroism.

“Does the FBI give out medals?” I teased him.

Normally, he would have flipped me off, but since I’d just spoken on his behalf, I got a hug instead and a promise that he’d always have my back.

But I knew that already.

Bodhi and I did a final walk-through at his place before he handed over the keys, and I asked him if he was sure he wanted to live with me instead of me living with him.

“Your place is home,” he assured me, then squinted. “But it’s our place now, yes? My name is going on the deed, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” I promised, smiling at him. “We’re doing that tomorrow morning before work. But you know me. Even if there is no trouble, I have to try and make some.”

“That’s true. You’re better at raising questions that have already been put to bed than anyone I know.”

It was a gift, but I was lucky, and so was he.

Three weeks later, he was sitting at his desk, and he started chuckling.

“What?”