Chapter 23

"Brandon?" Matti stood in the doorway, wearing only a pair of gym shorts, his eyes heavy with sleep. God, that body of his went on and on, the big hands and freckled flesh of his muscled biceps and coating of dark fur that covered his chest and abdomen. He looked tired, like a long night's sleep interrupted. I suppose it had been. A disheveled look to his hair left it unintentionally flattened on one side of his head and spiked on the other, the salt-and-pepper hue giving him a calming look of experience, of maturity. A stubble grew on his face that I rarely saw. It made him look even more sexy than he already did. He looked so good I could have tackled him there, ravishing his body with my tongue.

The problem was that I could barely move my tongue. My mouth had gone dry, and nervous energy crept through my muscles. The drinks at the bar helped with that, but I needed water or alcohol or a slug to the brain—anything to make me feel something different than what I was feeling. Our eyes met. At least, I think they did. I melted where I stood, so it was anyone's guess.

"Brandon," Matti repeated, trying again to grab my attention, to shake me back to reality. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," I said, the words spilling from my lips as though I tried to drink too much too quickly.

"It's okay," he offered, as though I was apologizing for how late I'd knocked on his door. He drew his hand to his face and briefly rubbed his eyes, an attempt to wake himself.

"No," I corrected. "I mean, yes. I'm sorry for showing up so late. But that's not what I was apologizing for."

"Is everything alright?"

"No, Matti. Nothing is alright," I started, feeling another brain dump rapidly approaching. "Nothing has been alright for the past month and a half. Not since I looked you in the eye and told you I didn't think we should see each other anymore. God, what the hell was I thinking? I mean, you did everything in your power to keep me from leaving, and I just let you go. You reached out and tried to understand me, and I just ignored you. I acted like you didn't exist. Like what we had meant nothing."

"Brandon—" he tried to interject, but I wouldn't let him speak. I had to get all my words out, whatever they were. I needed to be the one to try to fix this.

"Please," I interrupted. "Just let me get this out. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. For not explaining how I felt or why I felt the way I felt. For not giving you a chance to prove me wrong. I'm sorry for making you feel like you did something to cause me to leave. You didn't do anything wrong. I mean, maybe you did. But I did too. I hid my feelings from you. I hid my past from you, and I told myself I was doing it because I didn't want to relive it. But that wasn't fair to you, Matti. It wasn't fair of me to expect you to understand me—to understand why I felt the way I felt about us—when I never gave you any context. When I never let you get to know me. Because part of me is my past. And that past hasn't always been nice to me."

"Brandon—" Matti tried again to get a word in, but in true Brandon fashion, I wasn't done speaking. I was nearly in tears, my breath heavy, my chest heaving.

"Just please, please give me another chance. A chance to let you get to know me. The real me. The good and the bad. Please, Matti. I love you. I'm so fucking in love with you. And I miss us."

Matti glanced up and down the long hallway, doors and doors in either direction, checking to see if anyone else was around, poking their heads out to see what the commotion was about or to try to be the first to get the latest piece of Stratus gossip. I'd gotten louder than I intended to, tipsier and more emotional than I would have preferred to be in that moment. But there was no going back. This had to happen in whatever way it ended up happening.

In a possible attempt to shut me up, Matti pulled me by the front of my shirt into his condo, pushing the door closed behind us. The small lamp on his bedside table illuminated the space with a dim glow, just enough light to see. He pulled me in close, cupped my face in his hands, pressed his lips against mine, kissing me with passion. With need and desire. I returned his kiss, standing in that entryway, unable to think of anyplace better in the world just then.

His hands moved to my back, and he pulled me in close, never breaking our kiss. At the same time, I pulled his body closer to mine, hugging him into me. His touch was magical, reigniting all my senses that had dulled over the past six weeks, painting everything a brighter shade, giving everything a clearer, crisper sound. Everything smelled good again. And touching him—touching Matti—sent everything in my body into disarray in the best possible way.

Just then, Hugo stirred, jumping from Matti's bed to see what all the fuss was about. When he realized it was me, he wrapped himself around my legs, tail wagging and leg shaking. "And I miss this guy too," I said, pulling away from Matti to bend down and pet Hugo, who proceeded to jump, placing his paws on my shoulders, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor as I was trampled and aggressively licked by husky tongue.

"Hugo," Matti announced with dominance, grabbing his dog's attention. "On the couch."

Hugo focused his attention, then pranced to the couch in Matti's living room, jumping up and lying down, an act of unwavering loyalty. Matti then grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet before kissing me softly. There was longing in his kiss, an uncertain desire on his lips.

"Can we talk?" I asked tentatively, needing to hash out the past couple of months with him.

"Later," he asserted, his tone hungrier, his words plagued with need. He met my eyes, eyes that I'm sure were glassy with emotion and too many drinks. "I need you next to me now."

Matti led me into his bedroom. I kicked off my sneakers and lifted my arms so he could pull my shirt over my head. It had been so long since I felt so exposed next to someone else. The cool air tickled my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. It felt fantastic.

Matti grabbed my body once again, and I finally felt his warm flesh against mine, touching me, pressing into me. Every spark in the universe flickered within me, singeing my insides and carrying me to faraway places. When I opened my eyes, I was on my back on Matti's bed, grasping at the sheets as he unbuttoned my jeans, freeing me.

Then, his mouth was on me. I lost chunks of time as Matti and I reconnected. The sudden reemergence of our flame caused me to black out, to fall into depths of my mind that I hadn't been able to reach since we'd last touched. I continued to spiral into bouts of ecstasy, then flash back to reality as Matti kissed me, licked me, sucked me into him. He brought me to the edge of my sanity multiple times as I kicked at nothing and begged him to stop. I needed a break, but I didn't want it to end.

I was worried that we would share this intense night of passion before having our talk, words leaving a bitter taste in our mouths, so much less than our physical actions, so different than what we were experiencing in this moment. Would we be able to overcome that conversation? Would Matti be able to forgive me for walking away? Could I forgive him? Did I need to? Would he be able to deal with my trust issues, the ones I wasn't able to control? Or would we fuck tonight and be forced to walk away again tomorrow?

I'd deal with that later. Right now, I just needed to be in this moment, to feel his touch on me once again. To feel him inside me. To feel myself inside of him. The feeling of his mouth on me was getting to be too much as he again brought me close to the point of no return. He knew just how to drive me wild without prematurely ending our adventures. He pulled himself from me, pushed his gym shorts to the floor, and walked to the bedside table to grab a bottle of lube from the top drawer.

Watching him move, I licked my lips and fondled my glistening cock, leaking with desire. Did he want to fuck me? Did he want me to fuck him? I'd do anything he wanted just then, anything to connect with him. Within a matter of minutes, he'd reduced me to putty in his hands.

He looked into my eyes and smirked. "I've missed you, Brandon."

"I've missed you too. So much."

"Have you been with anyone else… since?" he stumbled and paused, not wanting to relive our breakup, not wanting to admit that we may no longer be what we once were.

"No. Only you," I answered, conceding to my dreams, my lingering fantasies about his body. "Only in my mind."

Matti smiled. "Me too."

"How do you know you can trust me?"

It was a stupid question to ask just then, one that could have thrown off the course of the night, but I'd been trying to work through my trust issues and not doing a great job of it. Matti just seemed so sure of me, so amazingly trusting. How could he be so certain that I could be trusted with his heart, with his health?

"Because you love me, Brandon. You wouldn't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes."

A smile drew across my face. He then asked me for my hand so he could squeeze a bit of lube onto my fingers before leaning over and kissing me, straddling my frame. I reached underneath him as he kneeled, bringing my fingers to his opening, so tight, so warm. I massaged him as we explored each other's mouths, breathing deep into one another.

I was gentle. If he hadn't been with anyone since me, it would have been a long time since he'd been taken. During our time together, Matti usually assumed the role of the top. It was the dynamic we had fallen into, and I never had a problem with it. He didn't seem to mind either. I wondered if he would regret it now.

Before long, I was able to slip a finger inside of him, forcing an abandoned moan into my mouth, that intense, erotic sensation palpable on his breath. It wasn't a moan of pain nor one that suggested I slow down. It was one of primal urgency, of animalistic sensuality, of need beyond that which has ever been needed. So, I continued to work him, to push him until I was able to slip another digit past his tight opening.

He was moaning more steadily now, his wishes audible, understood with each slow, intentional move. Matti grabbed his thick cock and began stroking himself, adding to his pleasure. I loved that I was able to make him feel so eroticized, so out of control. He had given me that pleasure more times than I could count, and I was thrilled to be returning the favor. Besides, any pleasure I was giving to him was amplified by the sensations I was feeling myself.

"Fuck me, Brandon," Matti whispered next to my face, his eyes closed, his steady voice cracking with seduction, a little unstable. "Fuck me."

I slipped my fingers from his opening and grabbed my cock, pressing myself against him as he sat up and tried to ease himself back onto me. At first, he winced, his eyelids slamming shut, his lips curling into themselves. He froze for a moment as I used my free hand to caress his thigh, letting him know that it would be alright, that I would be gentle, go slowly. I don't think he needed reassurance. He just needed a moment to let the searing pain that was probably shooting through his body run its course. I'd been there. It just takes time to recalibrate expectations about how the evening's events might play out.

Once he'd regained his composure, he lowered himself onto me, slowly taking a few inches of my length into him before sitting all the way down onto me, becoming a part of me. It was then me who was curling my lips and slamming my eyes shut. The feeling of being inside of him—my love, my need, my everything—was heaven. The sensations were so intense that I think I blacked out again, coming to as Matti rode my dick, gently rising up, then lowering himself back onto me, carefully, with intent, with purpose. My hands rested on his thighs, an attempt to guide him, to steady him. His palms pushed into my chest, my pecs flexing from the pressure. I moaned with each downward thrust he made. His face tightened with each movement, enticing, masculine whimpers escaping his lips.

I loved watching him, but I wanted to take him, push myself into him, make him feel how much I needed him.

"Get up," I commanded. His eyes crept open, and I think he saw the intense look of desire on my face, the look that let him know that I knew what I wanted, that I was willing to take it. Matti obliged and lifted himself from my frame. I slid out from under him as he kneeled on hands and knees before me, awaiting my next move. I placed myself at the foot of the bed between his legs, grabbing his calves, gently pulling his weight toward me. He eased himself into my grasp, his feet dropping off the edge of the bed, planting themselves on either side of mine. His ass was positioned in front of me, presenting itself, his upper half bent over, elbows resting on the tousled sheets of the bed.

Once again, I pressed the tip of my length against his hole, steadying myself with a hand on his waist, then pushed back into him, a surge of passion entering his body. God, he felt warm. Matti's grip, his flesh, his essence, all of it was shrouded in heat. I slowly pulled out and began to thrust back into him, holding him still, forcing him to take me. He didn't complain. In fact, he egged me on, repeatedly begging me to fuck him, to take him. He needed me just as much as I needed him, and I wasn't going to last long inside of that warmth.

I somehow pushed us up and onto the bed, never leaving him, never breaking our physical bond, continuing to press into him as I covered his body with mine, my firm chest against his strong back, my cheek against his cheek, whispering obscenities into his ear. We probably would have laughed about it had we been in that place. But we weren't. We were in a much deeper place, a place of temptation, of persuasion, of euphoric displacement. Reality had gone, and in its place was some hot, hedonistic space devoid of right and wrong. It was peace and love and ecstasy, unbridled by convention. It was sex, through and through. It was connection, a release of turmoil, a purging of anxiety and confusion and strife. We were one in that deep, dark place, that place that was only ours. No visitors could come knocking, no outsiders could penetrate. We were alone, free of barriers and inhibition.

Matti clung to the sheets as I came to once again, having disappeared into some otherworldly, euphoric wasteland, soft, white fabric balled up in his fists. Hard work had produced bead after bead of perspiration, beads that shined and glowed and tasted of salt and sex. They sensually dripped from his forehead, down his back, across his chest and abdomen as I continued to rock myself into him, my arms wrapped around his, my fists clenching his forearms.

His eyes were closed, and he continued to moan with every thrust. It sounded sweet and hungry and erotic. I kissed the back of his neck, licking at the sheen of sweat that covered his skin like a blanket. I wanted to consume him. My thighs pushed at the back of his, giving me easier access to his ass, pressing deeper and deeper into him as I cradled his body, tensing and yielding, tensing and yielding.

I don't know how long it had been, but I'd been dancing on the edge of an orgasm since Matti first removed my clothes. The fact that I'd been able to last this long was nothing short of a miracle, a sheer phenomenon based on nothing but the need to connect with him, to experience him. But his grunts and moans were getting deeper, quicker, more rigid. He was letting me know that he was getting there too. He was getting close, just from me being inside of him, from the feeling of my hardness sweeping across his prostate.

The thought of that made me go nuts inside, feelings of blissful satisfaction dancing in my veins. All the memories of popping pills and dancing at the club and warm waves of elation washing over me again and again came rushing back. The look of ecstasy on Matti's face as it strained against the mattress beneath me was more than I could take.

"I'm gonna come," I whispered into his ear, no control over my words, no authority over my actions.

"Do it, Brandon," he prodded. "Come inside me."

Oh, fuck. His words. His masculine energy. His need. All of it put me right over the edge as I grasped his shoulders from underneath his arms and pulled his body as close to mine as I could, buried myself as deep into him as humanly possible.

"Fuck," I shouted, letting loose, emptying myself into him, giving him every piece of me that I could.

A deep, guttural moan left his lips at the same time. His body tensed into mine, and I could feel him coming on the sheets underneath us. We grasped at each other, physically, mentally, and spiritually, as we continued our escape into each other's bodies, realms of pleasure into which we'd never ventured. We were covered in sweat, our hair damp and mussed, our bodies drained. It took a while for either of us to move. The only words that were spoken came after I removed myself from Matti to lie next to him, chests still heaving. The words came before he turned and wrapped himself around me, big spoon to my little spoon, kissing the nape of my neck.

"Matti," I started, only to be cut off by his breath warming my throat, his words falling into my ear.

"It can wait until the morning, Brandon."

Matti was cooking breakfast when I woke, tangled up in his sheets. In a panic, I thought about Maestro shaking a leg, waiting by the door for a walk. Then I remembered that I'd taken him out right before Alex, Patrick, Calvin, and I left for the club. I quickly stumbled out of bed, fishing my phone from the pocket of my jeans, a rumpled mess of clothes on the floor. It was only seven thirty. I shot off a text to Vonnie to let her know I'd be late and another to Calvin, asking him if he could run Maestro out for me before falling back onto the bed, my head pulsing with the first hint of a hangover.

Water. I needed water.

"Sure. No problem," Calvin wrote back. "Hope everything went well last night. Let us know when you can."

He was up early. They must have left the club right after I shot out the door like a cannon. I peeked over the bedroom wall and watched Matti work for a moment, sautéing something, slicing fruit. He'd thrown on the gym shorts he was wearing when I'd barged in last night. I wished he hadn't, but it didn't matter; he looked good in or out of clothes.

I snuck up behind him as he cooked, wrapping my arms around him from behind, reveling in the feeling of touching him, of being able to touch him again. My hands startled him, but he easily sunk into my embrace, twisting his neck, his beautiful face appearing over his shoulder to meet my lips.

He smiled, breaking our kiss. "Good morning."

"Morning."

"I hope you can stay for breakfast. I figured you might be hungry after last night."

"Did you just have all this food lying around?"

"I was planning to make breakfast for myself anyway. There's coffee," he continued, motioning to the full carafe warming on the scalding plate of the coffee maker.

"Thanks. I may need some water first."

Matti chuckled as I pulled away, grabbing a glass from the cabinet just next to where he prepared breakfast on the stovetop. I then walked to the refrigerator to fill the glass from the filter on the door.

"You know where the aspirin is," he continued. "Sit down. Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes. Do you need to walk Maestro?"

"Nah. Calvin's gonna take him out."

"Good."

I went to the bathroom to relieve myself and fetch some aspirin from the medicine cabinet, to ease my oncoming headache, still a dull murmur pushing its way around my skull. I then pulled on my jeans and grabbed myself a cup of coffee before taking a seat at the table. All of it felt so familiar, like I'd just been there yesterday doing the same thing, filling the same glass, fumbling around in the same cabinet. But it was oddly foreign. I felt like I shouldn't be there, like I shouldn't be so comfortable in his place. It wasn't my place. It wasn't ours. It was his. And we weren't together anymore. Or were we?

A few minutes later, Matti set a plate of food on the table in front of me: a cheddar-and-chive omelet, toast, and fresh-cut fruit. It looked perfect and delicious. Eager, translucent wisps of steam billowed from the top of my coffee mug. Matti poured himself a cup before sitting across from me at the table.

"Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome. Thank you for coming over last night."

"Sorry about how loud I was."

He laughed as he cut into his omelet, bringing the fork to his mouth for a bite. I followed suit and did the same. It was delicious, just like everything about Matti.

"I suppose we should talk," he mentioned, gently stabbing a chunk of pineapple onto his fork.

Shit. We did need to talk. It wasn't like I'd forgotten. It was just that we'd already fallen back into the way things were before I ran away from him—before the kiss—and it was comfortable. I didn't want to ruin it with words.

"Yeah," I agreed, nervously bouncing my knee up and down under the table. I grabbed my coffee cup and took a sip, then another. I thought about taking another, but then it would have been obvious that I was just delaying the inevitable. "Like I said last night, I'm really sorry for the way I reacted."

Matti interrupted as I set my coffee mug on the table in front of me, placing his hand on top of mine. "Brandon, I know you are sorry. I don't care about that. You're here. That's all that matters. But I have a feeling you need to get some things off your chest. That is what I want to know. That is what I want you to tell me about."

I know, I thought to myself, trying to find the words. That's what all of this was about. But where did I begin? How far did I go back? How much time did we have to rehash the chronicles of Brandon O'Leary's inability to love… to accept love… to build any kind of functional relationship? I guess I'd start at the last train wreck, the worst train wreck, the most time-consuming, self-involved train wreck there ever was: Nate Monroe.

"So, there was this guy. Nate," I began. "We dated for a while, but it was a pretty unhealthy relationship. And he hurt me. Repeatedly. I didn't know about it at first. In fact, I didn't know until the bitter end."

I told Matti about Nate's controlling nature, how he'd cheated on me and cut me down and how he kept reappearing in my life, hanging around just to see if he could milk one more ounce of self-respect from me. Then, I continued down the bumpy path of people who wanted me to trust them or change for them, the betrayals and the embarrassments and the disappointments. The abandonments. Kenny and Ricky and my pops.

I told him about Neil and his philosophy on monogamy that I'd taken to heart, that I'd let seep in until it colored every appendage.

I divulged to him about my failed attempts with Tariq and Pete and Kevin. I confided in him the emotional arrest that resulted from a revolving door of one-night stands and friends with benefits, many of whom I stupidly tried to build relationships with before they disappeared as quickly as they'd sashayed in. I confided in him the way one partner should confide in the other about things that have hurt them and pushed them into becoming who they have become, for better or worse.

I went on and on and on, and by the time I finished my war story, we were walking Hugo through Cedar Grove Park, two hours having somehow passed. My throat was dry, and my voice was scratchy by the time Matti was able to get a word in. "Brandon, I know."

"You know what?"

"I know all of this."

"What do you mean?"

"After you ran off and I couldn't reach you for days, I called Alex. I was so worried. I just needed to know that you were alright. We had coffee, and he told me everything about Nate, about Kenny, about your family. Everything he knew, anyway. Brandon, I understand how it feels to be hurt by someone you are supposed to be able to trust. Believe me. But why did you just run off? I thought I did something wrong."

I stammered through my muddled thoughts and tripped over my next words to him, hesitant and unsure, piecing together memories of that day, the night before that day. None of it seemed logical. Bits and pieces of emotion and pain somehow strung themselves together in my mind to form an ill-advised, ill-timed mission statement, a retrospective of my stupid relationships that made it clear to me that I couldn't live through it again, the cheating and the uncertainty. I couldn't get hurt. I wouldn't let myself. "I don't know. I had all these ideas about what a relationship was supposed to look like. And that's exactly what ours looked like. But the thing is, my relationships with Kenny and Nate looked like that too. At first, anyway. Everything was great: we talked, we laughed, we had a lot of fun and good sex. And all of that was happening with you too, Matti."

"But did they support you, Brandon? Did they love you unconditionally?"

"I know, Matti. I know now that things with you were different, more genuine. Better. But I was getting so comfortable with it all. So much so that I stopped worrying about getting hurt for a while. And then I saw you with that guy at the Back Door. I saw him hug you and kiss you. And I saw you kiss him. The way he looked at you, it was too familiar. I had never seen him before, never met him, and there he was kissing you. And all those horrible memories of those other guys cheating on me just came rushing back. I couldn't shake them. I should have told you what I'd seen. I should have been honest with you, but I told myself there was no point, that it wouldn't change anything. It just seemed like you were one more guy that I couldn't trust. I couldn't stand the thought of you messing around behind my back."

"You must know that I would never do that to you."

"I know that. I knew that. Deep down, I knew it. But I wasn't thinking as clearly as I am now. And I was afraid that if I asked you about it, you would lie to me. I just couldn't take someone else lying to me, someone who I'm supposed to be able to trust. The thought of talking to you about what I saw, of hashing out my past with you, it seemed like so much work, like so much hurt to dig up. It was easier to just leave, to wash my hands of us. At least I thought it would be easier." I paused for a moment before continuing. "Walking away from you was the hardest thing I've ever done, and I have nothing but six weeks of hurt to show for it. I just hope I didn't leave you with as much hurt as I've been experiencing."

The corner of Matti's lip curled into a smile as we walked. "You did hurt me, Brandon. Very much. But you're here now, back with me, and we can work through it. I want to work through it with you."

"Yeah?" I smiled.

"I'm sorry too," Matti continued. "I should have been more honest with you about my past. I have also been hurt, Brandon. I wish I would have told you so that you would have known you could trust me not to hurt you."

"It's fine. We made mistakes. I'm just glad you want to fix them with me."

"The guy at the bar you saw me with," he started.

"Yeah?" I asked, still unsure whether I wanted to hear the backstory.

"That is my ex, Blake. We were together for almost ten years. He cheated on me for a lot of those years. We don't keep in touch, but sometimes, we see each other around. And when we do, we say hello. I would prefer that he didn't do it with a kiss, but he was always flirtatious, with me and with other men. We broke up three years ago, and it took me a long time to be able to trust anyone. But you were that someone, Brandon. You made it easy for me to trust you."

"Wow," I deadpanned. "I never realized."

"Yes. And that's my fault. We should talk about our pasts more. Not too much," he laughed. "But more."

"Matti," I asked, "do you still trust me?"

"Of course I do. After I chatted with Alex, I knew you just needed some time to heal, some time to figure things out. I had to let you have that. I didn't quite understand why. I didn't know there was a trigger. I was just hoping you would come around. I'm so glad you did."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Did Alex not tell you any of this?" he wondered.

I thought about, then questioned my best friend's sincerity, quickly remembering that I'd boxed him out. "I think he tried. I've been a jerk to my friends lately."

We strolled along a paved path that meandered through the park and cut across the lake over a bridge, beside the pool and the gazebo. The park felt so empty this time of year, even with people everywhere: jogging, walking their dogs, escorting their kids to the playground. It was another gray day, thick bands of low-hanging clouds gliding across the sky, doing their best to guard the browning earth from the relentless rays of the sun. The temperature had jumped above fifty, and it felt better outside than it had for the past couple of weeks. We both wore jackets. I'd borrowed one of Matti's.

We grabbed a seat on the swing facing out over the lake and right into the Midtown skyline, the swing we'd started referring to as ours. The skyline was made up of towers of varying shapes and styles. Some had pointed pinnacles, and some were flat on top. Some were residential with balcony railings jutting out from all sides, giving them depth, and some were plain and stark, boring office towers that somehow gave the backsplash of newer, modern skyscrapers some intervening interest. The canopy of trees that sat nearer to us than the buildings had lost most of their leaves, jagged brown and gray limbs shooting out from all directions, only a few evergreens dotting the normally picturesque view with splashes of color. The water on the lake was cold and still, a few ducks passing by causing small wakes to form and quickly vanish behind them.

Hugo didn't mind the cold. In fact, he loved it. He decided to jump on the swing and curl up between us as we sat on its wooden slats, gliding back and forth. It was the kind of swing that would normally take up space on someone's front porch. For a while, we swung in silence, forward and backward, gently and calmly, looking out over the lake, the last leaves of fall tumbling from branches above before catching the wind and doing a dance on their way to the ground. It was an ugly day, but it was looking better. Everything was starting to look better.

"Do you have to work today?" Matti asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, but later. Vonnie opened the store for me, and Shay's been helping out on the weekends. They'll be alright until I get there."

"I understand if you need to go. It's your business."

"My business is here with you. Besides, I've been thinking about taking more weekends off. I'd just need to hire one more person. And the shop's doing fine. Really well, actually."

"I'm glad to hear that," Matti replied, a smile pulling at his lips.

"And I'd like to spend those weekends with you."

"I'm glad to hear that too."

"Alex and Patrick are having a holiday party in a couple weeks," I continued, hoping he wouldn't have plans, doing my absolute best to be more open about what I wanted with him, what I needed from him. What I needed for me. "Maybe you'd like to be my date?"

"I would like that very much. Besides, I was planning to go anyway," he laughed. "It was my backup plan to talk to you in case you hadn't contacted me yet. You wouldn't be able to hide from me there."

A look of contented confusion plastered itself on my face as he chuckled. That cute, sexy chuckle he always chuckled every time he knew he was one step ahead of me.

"Wow. I can't believe Alex invited you to his party. What if I never came to your door last night?"

"Brandon, I think Alex would have dragged you to my door if you hadn't come on your own. He loves you very much, like a brother. He knew you weren't happy. He was going to try to fix this one way or another. Besides, your friends are my friends. Good luck trying to get away from me now."

We broke into laughter, unrestrained, without reason. Tears squeezed themselves from the corners of my eyes, and my stomach tightened as I laughed, Matti's hand on my shoulder, attempting to compose himself. It was stupid and innocent and fun. It was necessary after six weeks of torture.