Page 60 of Healing the Twin
“I’d be happy to show you sometime. You’d be surprised at the difference it makes.”
“You can show me anything you want,” I said, then wanted to slap myself for how that sounded. “Strike that. That came out way dirtier than I had intended.”
“And here I thought you were gearing up for some phone sex.”
“I’m at work, you know? Can’t do that here.”
“Hmm, so you could do it at home?” he teased.
“Not when the boys are home. Jesus, I’d be mortified if they ever heard me.”
“Why? Are you not allowed to have a sex life?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want them to hear it.”
“Fair enough. No phone sex, then.”
“As if you would’ve been interested.”
“Erm, you do remember we had real sex, right? Why wouldn’t I be interested in a little phone sex, seeing as we’re not in the same town right now?”
Was he teasing me again? He’d sounded serious, though. “I’m sure you have your choice of men to hook up with.”
He was quiet for a long time. “I suppose so, but that’s not what I’m in the mood for.”
What was he saying? “But you are in the mood for phone sex with me?”
Another long pause. “I appreciate you calling, Fir. I’ll let you finish your lunch and get back to your patients.”
“Wait. Can I call you again? Just to make sure you’re okay?”
His voice was soft. “You can call me anytime.”
20
TOMÁS
Standing in front of the hotel window in my suite, I looked out over the Thames. The sky was packed with heavy clouds that threatened to dump rain, but that didn’t stop the tourists from cramming themselves onto the Tower Bridge in massive crowds. The London Eye slowly turned, offering the people sitting in it a bird’s-eye view over the city. I’d done it once, and even I’d been charmed by it. This city was always alive and vibrant, regardless of the weather.
Wasn’t it interesting how each European city had its own character? Berlin was edgy, the underground scene always looking for the next big thing. Rome was dirty and ridiculously expensive but also oozing history. Every piazza, every fountain, church, and street offered a glimpse into its illustrious past, and to walk where gladiators had once fought would never get old. Prague had an otherworldly charm like you’d stepped into a fantasy novel filled with dragons and castles and knights. Amsterdam was beautiful and fascinating with its canals and buildings that showed the merchant past, though you always needed to look out for the endless stream of bicycles. Paris was romantic, Stockholm laid back and relaxing, Brussels charming—though I preferred Bruges—and Vienna always brought up associations with music. Whenever I walked around there, I found myself humming a waltz.
And then there was London. Busy, expensive, stylish London, where business people and tourists fought their way through wet streets, holding umbrellas, and where the red double-deck buses were a way of life, as was the tube. I loved London, maybe more than any other European city, at least for the longer term.
Yet I was bored to tears after not even two weeks. Somehow the city had lost its charm, and I had no idea why. I was staying in a luxurious suite in a four-star hotel with a grand view over the river, but I felt like a stranger, a guest, and it all seemed like a waste of money. The shops that had always been exciting now offered nothing enticing, and all the expensive brand stores left me cold. The tube was crowded, the weather sucked, and the throngs of tourists annoyed the fuck out of me.
Since I’d arrived here, I’d been offered three assignments, but I’d instructed my agent to turn all three down. One of them had been for a shoot on one of the former Dutch Caribbean islands—Aruba, maybe?—which I’d always loved, but even the thought of traveling there seemed like too much effort. Plus, it was for swimwear again, and I hadn’t paid enough attention to my diet to pull that off. I’d have to lose at least five pounds for a shoot like that, and I was already tired even contemplating it.
London had seemed like such a good idea. I’d thought that coming here would be the magical fix to all my problems, that I’d be able to find a fresh start here. Surely, this city would offer enough distractions to keep me from thinking about Tiago, worrying about my future, and feeling sorry for myself.
I’d been wrong. In fact, I’d never been more wrong in my life. All I did was think and worry and feel sorry for myself. This whole trip had turned into the mother of all pity parties, and I was getting fed up with myself. Coming here had been a big mistake.
I missed Forestville far more than I’d expected. Of course, I missed my brother, who had finally recovered from those nasty respiratory infections, but I also missed the slower pace, the peace and tranquility. I missed the views, the fresh air, the cute shops on Main Street. I missed Brianna’s delicious treats and how everyone greeted me as if I was an ordinary guy who lived in town like everyone else.
And I missed Fir, and that was the biggest surprise of all. He’d called twice more, and I couldn’t get over how sweet he was to reach out to me. He’d been genuinely concerned for my well-being, and no one other than Tiago had ever been. Well, my parents, but that was different. That was what they were supposed to do, part of their job as parents. But none of my friends ever had. Sure, Auden had texted me when he’d heard I’d left town and had checked in, but that had been it. Marnin had sent a “Have fun in London!” message, and that was the extent of his concern.
But Fir had texted me every day and had called twice, and I knew how little free time he had. What did that mean? And more importantly, what did it mean that I was eagerly awaiting the next time he reached out? I’d texted him, of course, but I was hesitant to call, afraid I’d interrupt him in his work or family time.
I missed him. I couldn’t get over the strangeness of that emotion. I’d never missed anyone but Tiago and maybe my parents in my early twenties. But as a grown man? I’d never missed anyone the way I longed to see him again. Why was that? What did that mean? We were friends, so why was I feeling like this? Sure, we were friends with benefits, and for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to hook up with anyone else. I didn’t want some random guy. I wanted Fir. Hookups with him were easy, fun, familiar…and addictive, apparently.