47. Birdie

Confession: I'm keeping a secret from Cohen.

I thought all day about how to tell Cohen what I'd discovered without betraying Ollie and Ryde's privacy.

I decided to let it rest until Friday. Cohen had asked that I come over after the game, no matter how late it was. A tingle of excitement worked its way through me at the thought of spending an entire weekend with Cohen, knowing we'd likely be in his apartment the whole time as to protect our privacy.

After I finished selling tickets at the game, I got in my car and drove to his apartment. There was an overnight bag in my car, but I left it there so I wouldn't seem too presumptuous. I'd be just as happy to have an hour with Cohen as I would to have a weekend.

When I reached his door, I heard the now familiar sound of indie music and smiled to myself. So much had changed since I first saw his apartment. I liked it as much as I had then, but I liked the man who lived here so much more.

Seconds after I rang the doorbell, he appeared at the door holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Have you ever had Cupcake wine?" he asked as I stepped inside.

I grinned. This had to be fate. "Mara and I drink it all the time."

"I should have known." He chuckled, setting the glasses on his island countertop. "It's not very expensive, but it's so good. One of my bartenders turned me on to it."

"Sounds like they need a raise," I said, taking the glass from him

"Right?" he said. "I'm kind of embarrassed to admit I drink it."

"Look at that. Misogyny working against men?"

With a laugh, he said, "True. I should be drinking whiskey neat, right?"

"Exactly." I took another sip.

He reached out a fingertip and adjusted a curl on my shoulder. "If you haven't noticed, I like sweet things."

My cheeks warmed, and I smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"Of course." He stepped back and began walking to his fridge. "Are you hungry? I have some leftovers from supper, but I could order in too."

"Can you stop being so nice?"

He chuckled. "I think it's a habit from being a parent. Like even if you can't fix a broken heart, at least you can make sure they have good food."

My heart warmed. "Speaking of Ollie..." I glanced to his couch. "Can we sit down?"

A look of concern crossed his features. "Sure. What's going on?"

I went to the couch with my wine glass and sat with my legs tucked under me. "I figured out why Ollie has been upset."

Cohen's eyes widened, and he leaned forward as if to hear me better. "What is it?"

"He's been seeing a boy at school who, I think, is even more private about his sexuality than Ollie is."

"Wow." Cohen let out a breath and rubbed his chin. "Who is it?"

I frowned. "I can't say. Ollie also asked me to keep his identity private."

"I guess it doesn't matter who so much as the fact that Ollie's been heartbroken all this time and hasn't felt like he could tell us." Cohen shook his head, blinking quickly. "Poor Ollie."

The guilt Cohen so clearly felt made my heart ache for him. I reached out and put a hand on his wrist. "I think Ollie was more worried about protecting this other boy than protecting himself."

Cohen looked up at me, then stood, pacing back and forth in front of me.

Worry immediately flooded me. Was Cohen mad I hadn't revealed the other student's identity? "Cohen, I'm so sorry."

He paused, turning toward me, looking genuinely confused. "For what?"

"I just..." I stood, setting my glass on the coffee table. "I wanted to help, but I feel like this answer is so messy."

He cupped my cheek with his hand. "Birdie... If parenthood, marriage, divorce has taught me anything, it's that life is messy." He ran his thumb over my cheekbone. "I used to want to run away from it all, but now I know better."

I looked into his green eyes, searching for the answer in the depths. When I couldn't find it, I asked, "What do you want now?"

He smiled, then dropped a gentle kiss on my lips. "Someone to sit with me in the mess."

His answer caught me off guard, and I smiled. "No one's more acquainted with messiness than I am."

Taking my hand, he pulled me onto his lap on the couch. My back rested against his chest, and the rise and fall of his breaths calmed me in a way I hadn't felt for a very long time.

"What do you mean?" he asked, running his fingers lightly over my forearm.

I leaned back against his shoulder, looking at the ceiling. "I had to leave my place because my boyfriend left me, and I didn't have enough time to find another apartment. So I'm staying with my best friend, who doesn't even have a high school diploma and makes more than I ever will. Oh, and did I mention my boyfriend was actually my fiancé?"

"Oof," he said. "That hurts."

"On a multitude of levels."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was the one who blew my marriage."

I twisted to look at him. Cohen was so even-keeled and kind. Why wouldn't his wife want to stay with him? "What do you mean?"

"Our relationship was always...more effort because we got married out of obligation instead of love. Keeping things going was hard under the best of circumstances, but starting the bar made it even more challenging. I focused more on my business than I did on her because I didn't want her parents to keep funding our lifestyle."

I raised my eyebrows.

"They paid for Ollie to go to the Academy, they put the down payment on our house, her mom would take her shopping during the week. And there were always these comments, like I wasn't enough for their daughter." He shook his head. "So I tried to be enough in all the wrong ways. And then she found someone who actually was."

His hand had stalled on my arm, so I held it, lacing my fingers through his.

"Messy," I said.

He nodded. "But without it, I wouldn't get the beautiful moments either. Ollie. The bar." He squeezed my hand. "You."

My heart warmed, and I twisted, kissing him with everything I felt but couldn't find the words to say.

Our embrace deepened, his hands tangling in my curls and my fingers fisting in his shirt until there was too much between us to let it go any longer.

He peeled off my Emerson Academy shirt, baring my chest to him, and looked at me in awe, loving my body with his eyes. "I'm never going to get used to how beautiful you are," he said, almost to himself.

I would never get used to how beautiful he made me feel. I closed the gap between us, kissing his lips where sweet words always seemed to flow, and reached down to unbutton his jeans. All of these feelings, I wanted to pour them out, to show this man how much I absolutely adored him.

Once his jeans were off, I slid from his lap, kneeling before him on the floor and coming closer to his hard, veiny length.

"Birdie, you don't have to," he said.

"But I want to." Before he could argue, I took him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, savoring each twitch of his hips and the deep moans emanating from him. Sucking gently, I pulled him deeper in my mouth, sliding my lips and tongue over the length of his cock.

It was too long to take all the way in, so I used my hands to cup his heavy sack, gently pulling and kneading until he moaned again.

"Fuck, Birdie."

It was all the encouragement I needed to take him that much deeper, all the way to the back of my throat until my lips rested near the base of his shaft, and I held still until he writhed against my touch.

"I'm going to fucking come," he gritted out.

All I could think was, good.

I worked my mouth back and forth, faster and faster, until he said, "Let me pull out."

I clamped my mouth around him, grabbing his hips, and sucked him until his dick throbbed and pulsed.

"Birdie," he moaned... and then he released.

I swallowed fast until every drop was gone, ready to collapse over his lap, but he took me in his arms instead, held me close, and kissed me over and over again.