16. Chapter 16

I'm having a hard time concentrating on Em's question regarding our appointment system because I can't get over Von's assumptions. I'm not upset he didn't disclose his past since we're just having fun. It's that he assumed the worst of me. I shake the thought to rid my mind of Von and focus on Em.

The shop isn't busy and we're up at the front counter with a view of the street from the large picture window and double doors.

In the week that I've trained Em, I found his story similar to mine. He had shit parents, ran out of money, and had to drop out of school. He tells me basic background stuff and how he was lucky to have an art teacher who helped him get into college. It's obvious he had a massive crush on that teacher.

He's personable, attentive to the client's needs, and a kick-ass artist. Em's also a flirt and fun to hang out with, so he brings me out of my sullen mood.

Em sticks around after closing and offers to lock up after he goes to the bathroom. My gut tells me he might be in trouble. "Hey, if you ever need it, there's an empty room for rent upstairs. Cole owns the building, and he likes to rent it to people he knows. I lived there for years."

A slow smirk spreads across his face. "Please tell me I'll get to sleep in the famous Alec Ivy's bed. Will there be an army of men searching for you?"

"Nope, I put my change of address on blast. No sloppy seconds for you," I deadpan and give him a look that the offer is serious.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, that's good to know. I might take you up on it later."

That's code for he's dead-ass broke and can't afford rent until he gets paid. I nod and walk out with him. He can't sleep in the shop, but I'll call Cole.

"Coffee guy's back." Em nods toward the door as it opens.

This is the fourth day in a row Von's brought me coffee. It's pathetic. And sweet.

Von offers a tentative smile as he hands me the coffee.

I'm not mad.

Disappointed. And possibly hurt, but only for a minute.

I thought we had something, but I was wrong. I'm the last guy who should fault someone else for not wanting more than a night together.

The first time he brought coffee, I assumed he wanted to apologize and tell me he wanted a chance at another night together. Most men do and I honestly can't tell if Von hurt my pride or my feelings. I thought he liked me. I'm a likeable guy.

But in the end, he pretended to be my fake boyfriend, and we had a fun fake day-date. Game over.

He's obviously going through something and that sucks. But I don't understand what he's doing. He brings me coffee but is practically mute. He's serving some sort of penance, and I don't want to be a part of that.

Taking a sip, I know he's switched from buying me coffee to making me his Swedish coffee. "Good stuff." I hold my cup up to salute him. Von says exactly nothing and stares at me to say more.

The standoff is ridiculous. To end it, I say, "I hope you get arthritis in your foot."

Von's mask of indifference disappears and his features play out his inability to understand what I mean.

"Is that an American saying?" It's the most words he's strung together in five days. I hate how much I miss his accent.

"No. I thought your career-ending injury was to your foot." I wait a beat and then say, "From when you got it lodged in your mouth. Or was it up your ass?" These pity visits need to end. It's maddening.

Em chokes on his shitty Keurig coffee with a laugh. "Dude."

The bottom line––I refuse to be treated like a pariah when I tried to help. Excellent coffee can't redeem him for thinking I'm a horrible person. He must've believed I was going to use him for money or fame or both.

Von doesn't know if he should smile either, and I lose my battle and chuckle.

"It was my knee." Von's ears turn pink then he adds, "I deserved that."

"Yeah, ya did. By the way, I don't work tomorrow." I walk backward and watch his disappointment as I turn around.

Em says, "You can be my coffee slave. I'll even be nice to you."

Of course he doesn't say anything before he leaves.

At closing time, Em disappears in the back on his phone. When he emerges, he looks defeated.

"Hey, man. How much is the rent for the place upstairs? I can't stay in my old place."

"Don't worry about it. You can sleep there until you get your next paycheck, and then you can work out a deal with Cole." I unlock the bottom drawer and remove a set of keys.

"I'm not a charity case." He sticks his chin out.

"It's just one friend helping another out. Someday you can pay it forward and we'll be all good." Phrasing it this way will help him accept it.

"I knew if I put my mind to it, I'd find myself in your bed," Em says to cover his embarrassment.

"Sure, I'll tuck you in with a pat on the forehead." I mime smacking him upside the head.

Von surprises us both when he strides in, a man on a mission.

I turn to Em. "I thought you locked the door to keep the vagrants out."

Em reels back, thinking my insult to Von is aimed at him. "No one ever comes in."

"Can we talk?" Von sounds robotic.

"I'm busy." Not hating the fact he's here—I'm curious.

Pathetic.

A guy shows me compassion and acts as if he likes me and I get all sappy.

"I'll wait." Von shoves his hands in his pockets.

I shrug and grab a business card off the counter. Clicking the pen, I say to Em, "Here's the code to the apartment upstairs. It's 84679. Don't tell anyone. Only me, Cole, and Shane have it, so if anything happens, we'll know who to blame," I joke with a wink.

"But that guy heard." Em points to Von.

"That guy?" I let my eyes scan Von from head to toe. "He only knows fifteen words in English."

Em nods, believing me, and I really shouldn't fuck with him. He's stressing over his living situation, but maybe this is my way of getting back at him for thinking Von would be his coffee slave.

Von is driving me insane.

"Hey," I yell at Von, "I'm taking him upstairs to bed." I mime picking Em up and walking upstairs. "I'll be back." Pointing to the clock on the wall, I raise my voice. "Do you understand?"

Von's expression is part furious and part I've lost my mind. I purposely said that I'm taking Em to bed to get a rise out of him. One point for me.

Von sighs and answers me in Swedish.

"He doesn't know English, for real?" Em's eyes ping-pong between Von and me.

"Come on." I clap him on the shoulder. Later, I'll tell him I was being a dick to Von and didn't mean for him to believe me.

The petty part of me takes an extra-long time to show Em every closet, cabinet, and corner of the loft. There's no reason to tour Shane's office or Cole's painting studio, but I show him to prolong the time Von has to wait for me. Petty-ass bitch. Party of one.

I'm not proud of myself, but I thought Von was different. He genuinely seemed to care when I spilled my guts. Until that article sent him over the edge. I get that he was upset and freaking out. I was upset for him. And for Lars.

It's probably for the best that he made his feelings clear. There's no reason to drag out sex when any relationship I'm in is doomed.

Von's pacing when I get back to the shop, and I irrationally think he's jealous.

"So you wanted to talk?" I cross the space to sit on the couch in the consultation area across from the main counter.

Von follows, sitting next to me. I decide to stay silent because he specifically said he wants to talk. Which requires him to use language. I bite back a comment to get Google Translate ready in case he can't manage English.

"I am not happy how we left things." Von's voice breaks and his intense blue eyes are cloudy.

I wait for him to say more because if he wants something from me, he's going to have to ask.

"I was a complete arsle, and you did not deserve that."

I nod in agreement.

Von shifts closer and I hate how good he smells, like crisp cold and my Viking. There are so many reasons to throw him out now that he's made a sincere apology, but I can't think of a single one staring into his bottomless blue eyes.

"I hope you will forgive me." He reaches out but lets his hand drop back into his lap.

"I already forgave you." If he'd asked for my forgiveness on day one, I would've given it to him, but he never asked.

Von sags in relief but doesn't say anything else.

"So what else do you want?" I'm not trying to be a dick, but I don't understand his goal.

Von straightens, his eyebrows shooting up. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I repeat. I don't have the energy to drag his answers out of him. After another uncomfortable silence, I ask, "Why do you need my forgiveness? What will that change for you?"

Von's chin pulls back as his lips turn down not understanding.

I'm done with this non-conversation. "Listen, I appreciate how you were there for me when Mads ambushed me and then my parents. I have nothing to do with that photo despite what you think. Whatever your problem is, it's not me. I won't be the scapegoat for your anger. But I'm also not a grudge holder. We're cool. I'm not mad. I'm sure I'll see you around since you're living and showing at Mads's gallery. You don't need to worry that I'm going to talk to the paps or insult you to Mads."

Von looks sick.

"I do not have a good relationship with the tabloids in Europe. They have caused me and my family a lot of pain by lying and revealing private information. I made assumptions of your involvement because of your friend. It was not right, and you did not deserve it."

Von's chest heaves with emotion. "I feel terrible. I have been trying to invent a time machine to take my words back, but my lack of knowledge about physics is a problem."

"Did you just make a joke?" My surprise is a tossup between his monologue and his joke.

"If you thought it was funny, it was a joke. If not, it's more evidence that I'm a total arsle."

"Viking, you're not a total asshole." My tone suggests that he's a bit of an asshole. He's taken responsibility, but that doesn't change anything.

"But you like assholes, right?" His expression is so hopeful, I laugh.

To clear up this baffling conversation, I throw out bait to see if he'll bite. "I do like your asshole."