Page 112 of Say It Again
“Oh God.” Daniel flicked his gaze upward. “You’re drunk.”
Aaron twisted around the room as if someone was standing behind him and pointed a finger at himself. “Me?”
“I’m surprised you came home.” Daniel sat up and sipped his ginger ale, mustering all his sass. “You and your boyfriend have a little too much fun?”
“Okay, I see what you’re trying to do, and oh, no, no.” Aaron wagged a finger at him. He slid his jacket off and slung it across the room like he was on stage at a strip club. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I have a fiaaaaancé. And God, look at you. I can’t wait to marry you.”
Drunk Aaron was an overly sentimental and gushy fellow. Daniel had to restrain his grin.
“Then, when I’m at a restaurant, someone’ll say, ‘Hey, can I use this chair?’” Aaron crawled into the bed and laid his head in Daniel’s lap, smiling goofily. “And I’ll say, ‘No. I’m saving that for my husband.’”
Daniel combed his fingers through Aaron’s hair. “It’s the little things.”
“Oh! And we can have Spoon-Sex Sundays.”
“You want a designated day for spoon sex?”
The big spoon beamed. “All married couples have a designated day for spoon sex, silly.”
“No. They don’t.”
“Remind me tomorrow—” He interrupted himself with a yawn. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, kid.”
“What is it, handsome?” He thumbed Aaron’s lower lip. “You want Missionary Mondays?”
“Oh, missionary’s good. Yeah, I can watch your face.” Aaron’s words slurred, and his eyelids collapsed. “But no. Isss about Marco.”
Daniel cocked his head. That didn’t sound promising. “What about Marco? I thought he was leaving. Is he not leaving? Talk to me now.”
“He is leaving. But he wants to take me on a vacation before he goes home. A charter plane. St. Bart’s.”
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “A charter plane?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” They shot higher as he blinked, wide-eyed, his stomach revolting in a somersault. “What? Why so soon?”
“He’s gotta gets backs to work.”
“But.” Daniel rubbed his forehead. No. No, no, no. “Do you want to go?”
“Do I want to?” Aaron nodded weakly and nestled into his lap, his words streaming together. “S’good money. He’s right, and we need money for, ya know… future self. You’re young, Daniel. Young people don’t know about security. Ssssecurity’s what’s important.”
It seemed so much worse than any regular time Aaron could’ve spent with a client. It seemed fucking catastrophic to have Aaron gone on a beach vacation with Marco. “But I thought you said you guys were platonic? If you’re platonic, why does he want to take a vacation together?”
Aaron didn’t respond.
“Hey.” Daniel shook him, but his breathing had already progressed to a faint snore.
He stared down at sleeping Aaron for a long time, curling his fingers through his hair, his wedding band glinting in the blue light from the TV. So hanging in there looked like this now too? Chartered planes? Vacations to St. Bart’s? All it took was the perfect client, and suddenly Aaron’s boundaries were slipping. He was staying the night. He was going on trips. All the things he’d sworn he’d never do.
Daniel wiggled out from under Aaron, tugged his shoes off, rolled him onto his side, and covered him with the blanket. Squatting by the bed, he smoothed Aaron’s eyebrow where he creased it in his sleep. “This doesn’t feel right.”
Aaron twitched.
“This isn’t right. Please don’t go. Don’t go on a trip with him.” He gently kissed Aaron’s lips. He tasted a little like himself, a little like whiskey, and a little like someone else’s cologne. Probably Marco’s. Which was enough to hurt all over. “It’ll break my heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Four