Page 30 of Secretary's Obsession

“There’s more to you than the twigs in your hair,” Dougal pointed out. “But it seems to me that for a demon who strives for perfection in absolutely everything he does, he is going to reach breaking point at some time. It’s not possible for anyone to achieve the high standards he sets himself every freaking time. It’d be exhausting. But tell me, what happened when you got him home? Did he calm down? Talk to you about why he was upset?”

“Oh, I wish.” George was still trying to come to terms with what he’d seen, and he’d been there. “He stalked into his penthouse, and remember how I told you he has doors on his bookcase so that things look streamlined and clean? Well, he pulls on those doors so hard one of them comes off its hinges. Next thing I know, there are cushions and books and throw rugs flying everywhere, all over the floor. Scott is still crying, mind you, sobbing about how he can do this, and he will do this, and…”

George shook his head. “There was a huge mess, and I could see just by looking at him it was really stressing Scott out. Before I could say anything or help him pick anything up, he stripped off his clothes with a click of his fancy fingers, and then I was swept up like a bride in a fantasy story, rushed off to the bedroom where I’m sure Scott was trying to get under my skin, he was that desperate to be close to me.

“I’m not saying that wasn’t wonderful, because times like that with Scott always are, but he was back, scrubbing his floors andtidying everything away the moment he thought I was asleep. That really gutted me, and this morning, he was just like he always is, dressed before me, eager to get to work—eager to get away from me is how I see it.”

“Sounds like you two need to sit down and have a serious talk,” Dougal said, and he sounded genuinely concerned. “Compromise isn’t all about one person giving into the needs of their partner, which you both sound like you’re doing with disastrous effects. Compromise is where the two of you work out how much you can each bend to meet together in the middle, where you’ll both be happy, instead of breaking apart.”

“That’s what I thought it was, too. Except Scott didn’t notice that I’d showered back at my place yesterday, he never said anything about me being late to pick him up the day before.” George felt tears prick his eyes, and he blinked them away. “And I know what you’re going to say—that it’s my fault Scott feels he can’t talk to me, although I can’t think what I’ve said or done to make him feel that way.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault, but Scott can’t help the way he is either,” Dougal reminded him. “He was the way he is a long time before he met you, and fair to say, you’re the same. I’m not hearing any sign of the two of you talking to each other…”

“How can I without making him feel bad about himself?” George stopped a moment, inhaling slowly and letting his breath out again before continuing in a quieter voice. “If I mention anything about how Scott doesn’t need to wipe down the shower the moment I get out of it, or how I don’t mind a coffee mugbeing rinsed and left on the counter, he gets this shuttered look on his face, as though I’m making a personal attack against him.

“He actually shuts right down, and talking to him then is just a waste of time because as I’m flapping my gums, trying to get through to him, he’s thinking about how long he has to pretend he’s listening to me before he can go back to cleaning again. You say he’s exhausted. I’m exhausted, too. I can’t live up to his ideal of household perfection. It’s getting so I don’t even dare fart in bed in case he bounds out of my arms and runs off to find an air freshener.”

“A holiday could be a good idea for you both,” Dougal suggested, his lips pursing in thought.

“Separately, you mean? I doubt there’s a hotel, motel, or cabin in existence that would meet Scott’s idea of what a clean living space actually means.”

George leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I was thinking the other day we could go on one of those fancy cruises—you know, the ones where the rooms are kept clean by discreet staff, and food is all laid out, and all we’d have to do is enjoy the sun and visit far off locations. No responsibilities, no devices or phones. Just eat, drink, have some laughs, and yes, talk to each other as well. But I doubt I have a crowbar big enough to separate Scott from the office. Being organized there is the key part of his existence. It would be like me cutting off one of his limbs to take him away from that.”

“The thing is, you don’t know that.” Dougal pointed a finger at him. “You’re making a lot of assumptions about him and what he’s thinking, and I’ll bet you a double meat burger he’s doing the same thing about you. That has to be the case because neither one of you is talking to the other, and yet you both think you know what your mate—blissful one—is thinking. Can’t you see where that’s a bit twisted?”

“Yeah, you’ll be right about that, I reckon.” George glanced up, noting where the sun was in relation to the horizon, and put his mug next to the log he was sitting on. “The thing is, I haven’t got a clue what to do about it. I don’t want to hurt my mate—that’s the last thing on my mind. But I can’t live like a blow-up doll with a glued-hair helmet, and sterile clothes either. I could be wrong. Perhaps Scott adores his life, and it’s me he has the problem with. By the same token, he could’ve forgotten how to have fun entirely and needs me to help him find his joy again. I haven’t got a clue.”

Standing up, George reached for his shirt and tugged it over his head, smoothing it down and then picking out the odd twig he could feel in his hair. “If you can think of a way that I could talk to my mate without causing him to have a meltdown, or without hurting him, I’d be grateful for the advice. For now, I’d better get back. Scott might not notice when I’m late picking him up, but you can guarantee my bear is going to give me grief about it if I’m not on time.”

“You need to get him out of his perfect office and out of his perfect house,” Dougal suggested. “Take a holiday, take time to talk to each other, spend time together instead of this stupidroutine you’ve got going on, because that’s not working for either one of you.”

“Sound advice, my friend, but forgive me if I think I’d have more luck winning a lottery I don’t have a ticket for than getting Scott out of his office.” George huffed out a long breath. “Thanks for listening. I don’t know where you get all your good ideas from, seeing as I can’t remember any time when you’ve been in a relationship yourself, but it’s appreciated.”

“I have—had a special someone in my life once who thought their position was more important than a solid relationship with someone who adored them.” Dougal shrugged. “As you see,” he spread his arms, indicating the clearing, “I’m still alone. I don’t want to see that happen to you and your demon. This forest already has a resident loner, and that’s me. You need to find a way to talk to your mate. It’s as simple and as difficult as that.”

“Finding the time would be a good start,” George agreed, saluting his friend as he walked off.

He was more than happy to agree with Dougal that he’d been making assumptions about Scott and that he could be wrong about him.

In George’s eyes, actions always spoke louder than words, and every time Scott reached for a cleaning cloth, instead of just enjoying the closeness with his blissful one, George felt shut out of Scott’s life more and more.

This can’t go on,he thought as he made his way back to his cab.

Chapter Seventeen

Scott

He blew his nose into the tissue that Peni had given him when he’d arrived and been unable to hold back the tears when Peni opened the door to Dakata’s old home. Now Merihem’s andPeni’s. He had managed to keep it together until lunchtime, then the sandwich George had made for him set him off. So, he had rung Peni and was now sitting at their kitchen table, crying.

Merihem had escaped after taking one look at his bloodshot, puffy eyes and hadn’t come back. “I’m so sorry, but I needed someone to talk to, and you did offer,” he sobbed, feeling the need to repeat that even after Peni said it was fine. Doing his best to hold in the next bout of tears, he wiped at his drippy nose. “It’s just I don’t know what to do.”

Peni patted his hand. “It's okay. Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?”

“Tea would be nice.” Scott hoped that while Peni made it, he would be able to pull himself together. All his grand plans the evening before had gone up in hell’s fire when the tears had started in the cab. George had looked so lost. Confused almost, but how, Scott didn’t understand. Then Scott had gotten home and—well, for want of a better word—went crazy.

Inside the apartment, he needed to show George that he could be everything he wanted and needed. He didn’t give himself time to think about his actions. He stomped into his orderly living space and started grabbing things and throwing them around. His books, his pillows, and the blankets he’d gotten for George.

“Scott, honey, what are you doing?” George questioned from the doorway looking at Scott like he’d not seen him before in his life.

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