Page 88 of The Cartographer

The thing is, I could hold onto him, but at the end of the day, I won’t be able to always put him first. My attention is always going to be divided, and at some point, someone is going to need me more than he does and he’s not going to be okay with that. Nor would it be fair to my clients and all the other people who rely on me to have my consideration split so.

As much as I enjoy him, it’s selfish to keep playing at this. I need to cut him loose. When I get back to San Francisco, I’ll do it. Introduce him to some people, see which one he takes a shine to, and then I’ll hand him off. Better than he was before. Someone is in for a treat because Allie’s a downright indulgence.

“I can tell what you’re thinking.”

India’s rarely quiet, but she is now.

“What’s that?”

“You don’t have to give him up, you know.”

A whole mess of images floods my mind: me and Allie at a Raiders game while he attempts to explain football to me for the umpteenth time because I’ve never really taken to that game; the look on Allie’s face as I tell him I love him; a small herd of teenagers tromping down the stairs of the townhouse we’d share because, even though I don’t think I could deal with babies, I could see adopting a few queer kids whose parents have kicked them out; kissing Allie at the airport before I have to board yet another plane; me and Allie up at an altar sayingI do.

Just as suddenly, they’re gone because that’s not what’s in my future. Too much work to be done, too many chess pieces to move, too many people to save, too many puppet strings to pull. Helping people is the best and most important thing I can do, and goddamn it, I’ll do it. It’s my calling, my responsibility. I can’t see having Allie and having that all at once. Something’s got to give, and I know what it has to be.

“I do. I’ve been having a hard time finding someone who’s good enough for him. He reminds me of you that way.”

I ruffle her hair, and she frowns, shaking her loose curls clear of my fingertips. “I mean it. Haven’t you learned anything from all the people you’ve helped and parceled off?”

She leans over me then, putting her hand to my cheek and stroking my stubble with the pad of her thumb while she looks into my eyes, her gaze so penetrating I feel as though she’s reaching into my soul. Is this how I make people feel? I don’t care for it. Best to be on the other side. For so many reasons.

“You’re allowed to be happy too, you know. If anything, you deserve it more than anyone else. There’s not a one of us who wouldn’t want to see you get your own happily ever after.”

It’s cute she thinks so, but I can’t put that theory to the test. She should know better than that herself. I can’t imagine she’d be anything other than vexed if she needed me to get on a plane and I couldn’t because something, someone, I’d chosen needed me more or at least got first dibs on my time.

“So noted. Now don’t you have to be up early tomorrow? Go the fuck to sleep.”

A smile props up the corner of her mouth, but I don’t think for a second she’s actually dropped this. At least let her put it down long enough for us to get to bed. At any rate, she pats my cheek and bends down to give me a kiss in the same spot.

“Yes, sir.”

That’s more like it. She shuts the lamp off and settles into me once again. It’s only a few minutes before her breath is the deep and even of sleep, until her slim but strong frame is warm, dead weight against me. I try to follow her into dreamland, but instead I lay awake for hours, going through my catalogue of the Bay Area’s kinky eligible bachelors and trying to ignore the images that keep flickering on the screen of my too-busy mind. They feel like an alternate universe, those snapshots of a future with Allie. An alternate universe I don’t have access to, so I should man up and get on with it, give away my Hart.

*

I’ve asked Matthewto help me with my unenviable chore, and as always, he’s done my bidding with aplomb. I don’t like it, but if I have to do it—and I do—I’m going to make sure it gets done right.

On Tuesday he hands me a stack of manila folders. I look up at him questioningly, and he smiles slightly.

“Alphabetical. I didn’t feel qualified to organize them any other way.”

I raise an eyebrow, and a lovely flush creeps slowly across his cheeks, the barest pink that turns his light brown skin the same color as the cameos my great-grandmother favored before she died. I remember sitting on her lap and being fascinated by the detailed carvings, the ivory raised from the oval in a perfect imitation of life. That’s the shade Matthew takes on when he’s self-conscious, but not embarrassed.

“It’s possible I put Post-its on the ones I thought Mr. Hart might favor. Given what I know about him.”

“Thank you, Matthew. That was considerate. Don’t play coy, though. I’m sure you have at least as good an idea of what Hart would like in a partner as Hart does himself. I thought I might review these in the den. Do you have time to join me?”

The unspoken insinuation ison your hands and knees, under my feet, and his eyes brighten before they dart to his computer.

“If you have too much to do, that’s fine. I won’t keep you. This is want, not need.”

“Isn’t it my job to give you both?”

“Of course, darling boy, and you’re very good at your job. Why don’t you tick one item off your to-do list and then join me? I’m sure I’ll still be reviewing these when you’re through.”

Matthew ducks his chin in a quick nod and sits immediately, poised at his computer as if ready to do battle. And he is. With administrative tasks to get to his reward: being my living, breathing footstool.

I tuck the folders under my arm and grab a glass of orange juice on my way to the den. I’d usually have coffee because coffee is one of life’s great socially acceptable pleasures, but I’m already feeling a bit tetchy and too much caffeine would probably nudge that feeling toward edgy or, worse yet, ornery. I’ve got back-to-back clients later today, though if I have my way they’ll soon be front-to-front because they’d make a handsome pair. I’ll have to enlist Matthew to force their meet-cute.

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