Page 63 of Resisting You

“What the fuck do you call this, then?” Frey demanded, gesturing to his plate. He looked well fucked and just as beautiful as he always did.

It had taken Renato half an hour to stop trembling from their sex, but now he was famished and fighting off the urge to pull Frey close so he could keep touching him while he ate.

“Lazy pasta.” It was something his mother had taught him to make so he could have something decent to eat without having to put too much work in. It required making sauce in large batches and freezing it. And simple pasta wasn’t hard to make. He’d been learning since he was a young boy.

“Jesus, you must be horrified by Americans,” Frey said, slurping up another bite.

Renato’s chest was warm with happiness—something he hadn’t realized he was missing until now. His body was still humming from the pleasure of making love to Frey, and he was on the edge of want still.

It would be a while before he had the ability to do it again. His stamina was that of an older man, and he wasn’t ready for the little yellow pills just yet. But Frey seemed content with this—with lying together still naked, eating in bed off his cheap plates and occasionally brushing their toes together.

Renato didn’t think he’d ever have this again. Hell, he’d never really had this with Grady. They’d been content in other ways, but he hadn’t been one for cuddling or pillow talk. Grady was a quiet man who didn’t ask for much, even if Renato was willing to give more.

Renato had been missing out, and he knew it. It had just been easy to ignore because he’d loved Grady so damn much. His gaze flickered over to his nightstand, where the one framed photo of them remained.

It didn’t take long for Frey to see what he was looking at, and he set his fork down on his empty plate. “Is that him?”

Renato nodded, glancing at Grady’s bright eyes. “That’s him. Years and years ago.” Before the failure of his career beat the joy out of his smile.

“He was really beautiful. What was he like?”

Renato blinked in surprise. He’d known Frey was curious. Everyone was curious. He just hadn’t expected him to have the courage to ask. Renato collected Frey’s plate and stacked it on his own, then set them at the edge of the bed.

Frey’s arms opened willingly when Renato crept closer, and it felt different—and incredibly tender—to be held like this when talking about the past. No one had held him after his loss. They all seemed terrified of him.

“I don’t mean to pry. If it sucks to talk about it?—”

“No,” Renato said softly. “It doesn’t. He died a long time ago, and it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.”

Frey stroked fingers through Renato’s hair, and his eyes slipped closed as he listened to Frey’s steady heartbeat. “Was he nice?”

Renato laughed. “Sometimes. Not the nicest man I’ve ever met. He wanted to be famous, and he was…determined. At times, that meant putting himself above everything else.” He took a breath. Even in therapy, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to talk about the part of Grady he hadn’t liked very much. It was fear at first, then guilt. Then, it was just habit. “Sometimes I think…no. I know,” he corrected, “our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. He wasn’t happy near the end.”

“Were you?”

“I think I was settled,” Renato admitted. He held Frey a little closer against a small rush of guilt. “I was content to live our lives exactly as they were—but he wasn’t. And it was my fault for not noticing that being able to realize my dreams while his failed was hurting him.”

“Did he cheat?” Frey asked very quietly.

Renato sat up and looked into his eyes. There was pain there—old and atrophied—and he understood why Frey asked the question. “No. I don’t think so. If he did, he was very good at keeping that secret, and it’s buried with him. But I think he wanted a different life. One I couldn’t give him.”

“Kids, dogs, picket fence?”

Renato snorted. “Those would have been his worst nightmare. He wanted to be beautiful forever. Famous. Adored. I loved him, but I didn’t worship him, and eventually, that wasn’t enough. I think he’d hate the fact that I speak to his voice there at the cinema because he only took that job for money. He didn’t want that to be his legacy.”

Frey said nothing, and rightfully so. There were no words to comfort a dead man who didn’t need comfort at all. If there was justice in the universe, Grady’s soul had been reborn to some Hollywood royalty family that could give him the nepotism and opportunities that had been denied to him in his former life.

But Renato wasn’t sure what he believed in these days.

What he did know was that looking into Frey’s eyes gave him something he hadn’t realized he didn’t want to live without. He touched him again, then kissed him.

“I…should go,” Frey murmured after a while.

Renato knocked their foreheads together. He’d known that was coming. Frey had obligations. His life wasn’t complicated, but it was busy, and Renato’s was the same. But there was a new hollow ache in his gut thinking about him leaving.

“I want to see you again.”

Frey laughed as he pulled back, though he didn’t attempt to leave the bed just yet. “You see me all the time.”

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