Page 9 of Promises Kept

“So the Health and Safety exec visit?” Dylan said hopefully.

Barry flapped a hand. “A great big fucking lie. An excuse to torment you for being an arse to Alec.” He stood up. “Now if you don’t want peppermint tea then can I suggest you get home to that worried and sexy boyfriend of yours and tell him what the hell is bugging you. Because I can tell something is, darling. And if you don’t want him anymore, then send him my way. I can think of a hundred and one ways to make him happy. And there’s a long line after me.”

“That’ll be the fucking day,” Dylan growled. “He’s mine.”

Barry stood up. “Then go home. Show him how yours he is and bloody well talk to him instead of being a diva.” He flounced out with a glint in his eye.

Dylan heaved a deep breath. He’d get no peace here today with Barry hovering like a manic crane. Also, Dylan would really like to sink into the welcome depths of their duvet. He stood up and held onto the desk until his dizziness passed. He wasn’t looking forward to taking the tube so a taxi it would have to be.

***

Alec heard the door open and the clunk of Dylan’s house keys being hung up on the wall. He looked up as Dylan entered the living room. He looked pale, his eyes red-rimmed and his hair mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.

He glanced at Alec, his eyes shadowed. “‘Morning.”

Alec acknowledged the greeting with an inclination of his head.

You look like bloody hell and I’m pleased about that, you tosser.

He wasn’t really. Alec had never been one to hold a grudge, preferring to talk things out than sulk.

Dylan disappeared into the kitchen and the kettle clicked as it was switched on. Alec tried to focus on the words on the report he was reading, titled “State of the PR Profession: The Benchmarking Survey.” The words blurred on the page. He laid it down, unable to concentrate.

He knew he was overreacting to Dylan’s behaviour and bad manners last night, and what had been said was in the heat of the moment, but Alec had never seen Dylan so tightly wound before. Typically, Dylan was happy-go-lucky, the positive balancing Alec’s negative, and the fact something had got him so upset chilled Alec to the bone.

What if Dylan was sick? What if something was really wrong, obviously something Dylan felt he couldn’t share? The two of them had always been honest with each other in the past, which made last night that much more troubling.

His boyfriend came into the lounge with two steaming cups of coffee and set one down carefully next to Alec. He sat down next to him.

“Thanks.” Alec regarded the cup with a fixed stare, as the steam rose, and the liquid settled with still swirling whorls.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night, a mhuirnín,” Dylan apologised softly as he regarded Alec. “I was an arsehole.”

Alec nodded. “Yes, you were,” he remarked. He picked up the cup and sipped the scalding coffee. Milky and sweet exactly as he liked it. Dylan was clearly trying to make amends. Normally his coffee was crap.

Dylan sighed. “I was just…hurting, a little yesterday. Something I’ve always taken for granted is being taken away from me and I didn’t deal well with it. I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

Alec leaned forward and set his cup down. His intention to be a “badass” and make Dylan suffer had disappeared with the apology. “You say that but there’s always truth in anger when people fight. Do you truly begrudge me my job and the time it takes away from you?”

Dylan lifted his hands in supplication. “I was an arsehole, I know. I miss you when you aren’t around, but I know your business is thriving and I suppose…” His voice trailed off.

Alex raised an eyebrow and waited.

“I suppose in a way I’m jealous, because all those people get to spend time with you and I don’t. Bennett sees you more than I do.”

The gloomy look on Dylan’s face was Alec’s undoing. His heart melted, but he wasn’t ready to forgive Dylan yet.

“Oh my God, you’re jealous of the straight man? My best client? Dylan, come on. You’re being ridiculous.”

Dylan scowled. “Don’t mock me, a rún. I worry one of these days I’ll be best friends again with my right hand and you’ll have some fancy young man hanging on your arm.”

Alec shook his head in disbelief. The insecurity of a man who wrote award-winning plays, owned his own theatre, and was one of the best people Alec knew never failed to astound him. He’d known Dylan was sensitive about the eight-year age difference between them but this…this was crazy.

Fuck this. He needs me, he knows he does. And God knows I need him. Life’s too short for bloody arguments. Hell, I have no pride where this man is concerned.

“Tell me what made you so damned pissed off yesterday. Something must have been the catalyst other than the fact I’m working too much and apparently about to run off with a man younger than you.”

There was silence then Dylan heaved a deep sigh. “Sammy’s mother called yesterday. They’re moving to the States. And they’re taking Sammy with them.”