Page 52 of Billion Dollar Love: Manlove Edition

In a hurry, Zach removed the drive and ran from his office, rushing down the two flights of stairs to the floor Carson worked on.

“Where is he?” he asked, breathless.

“He’s gone, sir. About an hour ago.”

“Fuck!”

Everyone in the room had turned their attention to him the moment he’d burst through the door, and now their eyes went wide at the sound of him cursing.

“Clint, stop whatever you’re doing right now and take this,” he said, tossing the drive at the man closest to him. “Get that coding uploaded into the SummerIsle system immediately.”

Zach’s eyes zeroed in on the desk at the end, neat and clean and empty of any personal effects save one.

His feet were already moving, and he stood before the desk, heart in his throat as he lifted the little duck, cradling it gently. Beneath it was another envelope, this one smaller, with Zach written on it. He swallowed past the tightness in his chest and picked up the envelope before he silently made his way to the elevator, head down as he did nothing but stare at the rectangle of white in his hand as if it were a bomb.

Back in his office, the duck he’d given Carson and the letter Carson had left him sat in the middle of his desk, silently accusing.

Zach,

Thanks for the memories. I don’t regret any moment I spent with you. You have been the best thing to happen to my life, despite the short amount of time we were together. I will miss you terribly, and I’m sorry things had to end this way. I can only hope that one day you will see that I never set out to deceive you, and all my actions were genuine. Not sure where I’m going from here, but maybe I’ll see you around again.

Or something.

Love always,

Carson

He lost all track of time as he stared, unseeing, at the words. The idea of never seeing Carson again hurt in ways that Zach wouldn’t have thought possible. His brain raced as he considered all the ramifications of what he wanted to do. In the end, he decided it didn’t matter.

Or something. His eyes focused on those two words. Or something. Chance and fate. Something had brought Carson into his life. Zach jumped up from his desk.

“Sharon!” he cried as he flung his door open. “I need to know Carson’s address. Which apartment did we put him in?” He shoved his arms into his coat and stared at her impatiently as he waited for the elevator.

“Thirty-eighth and fifth, the condos there. Unit forty-three.”

Zach jammed the elevator button for the ground floor. That was a ten-minute walk at most—and he didn’t plan to walk, so make that five minutes. He hoped Carson was there. He didn’t really expect that Carson would answer his phone if Zach tried to call him right now.

Eight minutes later, he stood in front of Carson’s door, his stomach in knots, all his usual confidence gone. It felt like an eternity passed before his knock was answered.

“What do you want?” Carson asked the moment he saw Zach. He was still in his work clothes, with his tie hanging loose and top two buttons undone. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks blotchy. He’d clearly been crying. And it was Zach’s fault.

“I don’t have time for this shit, Zach. I have to find a cheap place to stay and pack and find a storage unit and a new job. Or did you forget all that already?” His face was angry, his voice hurt, as he retreated into the apartment, leaving Zach alone at the door. “Come in or leave, you own the fucking place. But close the fucking door already before my cat gets out.”

Zach stepped in and closed the door as the cat in question appeared, immediately rubbing against his legs and leaving him covered in white fur.

“Traitor,” Carson grumbled.

“Hey there, what’s your name?” he asked as the cat allowed him to pick it up, purring loudly.

“Her name is Ophelia.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“We didn’t do much talking, as you might recall. What do you want, Zach?” Carson stood with his arms crossed, a wall of ice tangible between them.

Zach swallowed hard as he set Ophelia down.

“I want you to stay.”

---