Page 54 of Loving You

Monty frowned. “What dots?”

“It helps me know what things are,” Lucas said, holding up a sticker sheet with a bunch of puffy dots in different sizes and colors. “They come right off.”

Monty waved his hand. “Oh. Go nuts. It won’t bother me. And feel free to keep them on until the joys of piloting have worn off.”

“And if they never do?” Lucas challenged, turning to face Monty.

He leaned in close. “Then I guess I know who I’ll leave my plane to when I die.”

Lucas sat back hard. “So. About that June wedding.”

Kylen’s eyes went wide. “Sorry? What June wedding?”

Without missing a beat, Lucas shrugged and said, “I’min love with your friend. It’s an age gap romance. Go with it.”

Bronx: Why does Kylen think my son is in love with you?

Monty: Because I told him I was leaving my plane to him when I die and he asked me about the June wedding. Kylen caught on and Lucas was covering our asses.

Bronx: I don’t know what’s worse.

Monty: Me marrying a seventeen-year-old. That’s worse.

Bronx: I want to see you soon. I need to kiss the smirk you’re wearing off your face.

Monty: Tomorrow. I’m not busy. You can come over whenever you want.

Bronx: Six a.m. work for you?

Monty: There’s an old doggy door in the back. If you can fit, six a.m. is fine. See you then.

Bronx: * laughing face* Fantastic. I’ll start on my squats now. See you soon, sparky.

Monty: À bientôt, mon petit chou.

Monty was only slightly disappointed when he woke up at eight and Bronx had not managed to crawl through the old doggy door. Though, to be fair, he hadn’t left it unlocked. But it would have been the nicest surprise to roll over and have Bronx there with him.

His bed felt strangely empty in ways it never had before, and Monty had never really shared with anyone in his past. Overnight guests had been entirely by accident, and when he had lovers that lasted more than a few days, he was always at their place.

He liked to think of his own as a sanctuary. As his space that belonged to no one else. But with Bronx, it was different. There was an emptiness now that he didn’t realize could exist.

God, he needed to talk to him.

Rolling out of bed, he trudged into the bathroom and started the shower before emptying his bladder and then washing up. He took his time on his hair. He knew Bronx wasn’t going to be over until later in the afternoon, but Monty was too antsy to lie around and do nothing.

And he was too caught up in his feelings to be able to focus on work.

His day was officially ruined.

He spent a little too long in his walk-in closet before finally deciding on jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His father would give him shit about it, but then again, Rod gave him shit about damn near everything. So why not just lean in.

He was happy with his decision and snagged his phone on the way to the kitchen when he realized there was a message waiting for him.

Bronx: Look out your front window.

Monty frowned and walked to his living room, pulling back the curtain. There, on a lawn chair, was Bronx. He was lounging back with shades on, face tipped up toward the sun. He had his legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankles, and he looked delicious.

And maybe asleep.

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