Page 30 of The Retreat

A cheshire cat smile turns up my lips. “Have you been going through my things? Snooping a bit? I have to admit, I’m proud of you.”

“There’s no need when you leave them in the bed, on the bathroom counter, and you don’t know how to close a drawer.”

“Oh sweet summer child, those aren’t mine. Those are for you.”

He blinks twice, then pushes me away from his face. “Go to sleep. I don’t have the energy for you.”

TWELVE

Colin

Scrolling through my phone on the couch, I jump when plastic wrapped shirts are dropped into my lap.

“You have to move out.”

I look up to see Oliver’s unamused scowl.

“What atrocity have I committed this time?”

He points to the shirts he threw at me.

One is a crop top with a cute pink bunny on it and the words: Slut Bunny, and the other has a collar and leash with the words: Slut Bunny’s Keeper. I’m not entirely convinced I can get Owen into this shirt, but I am going to do my best. He would look so hot in a crop top.

“Are you kink shaming me?”

“I’m not kink shaming you. I’m revoking my consent, and I’m going to press charges for you having these delivered to my house. Our poor doorman had to intercept this delivery. I may add him to the sexual harassment complaint!” He wouldn’t—no—he would. Time to speed up the move out plans.

“Luckily for you, we have several appointments to look at apartments today.” I swear his eye twitches, just the tiniest amount.

Owen steps out of the hallway at the perfect time for Oliver to round on him.

“You’re leaving?”

“You said I should.” Owen shrugs, but if his expressionless mask is anything to go by, he’s freaking out. “Colin, are you ready?”

“Did you eat?” Oliver demands of Owen who nods.

I jump up off the couch, clutching the shirts in my hand. “I got us coordinating shirts.”

Oliver is ready to snap. It’s mildly terrifying and very interesting. He’s always so in control of everything, but not anymore, and the strain is starting to show.

“Great,” Owen deadpans.

“Where?” Oliver demands.

“I special ordered them online.” I smile at him, deliberately misunderstanding his question.

“Where are you looking at apartments?”

The elevator dings on its arrival, and the doors slide open.

“It’s fine, Oliver. This has been long overdue for some time now.”

They share a look as the doors close that I can’t understand, but it’s heavy just the same. I have a feeling these two never imagined living apart. Ever.

“Where are we going?” Owen asks.

“Hell’s Kitchen.”

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