Page 74 of Worlds Collide

“And what would I do for one or two weeks?” I ask, faking cluelessness.

He looks up sharply, and I just smile at him until he sighs and sits back on the couch in my living room where he made me have a screaming match with him yesterday.

“I have two home games back-to-back, so you can hang out with me and Carter, asshole, and help me design the nursery. Sebastold me it’s my job,” he grumbles. “And that I better not butcher the room.”

“You finally found a place in the city?” I ask, excited. “And do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? Oh, and how is Josie doing?”

“Took you a while,” he mutters at me.

“I’ve been a little distracted. Now tell me all about it,” I demand, and see Carter smiling happily at us. I guess he knows all of this already.

“Yes, we did find a place just a few blocks from here, and it’s under construction right now since Sebas didn’t want that many walls and he wanted a few changes to the top floor where his studio will be. But the second floor, where our bedroom is—and where the nursery is as well—is fine and we can go in and do whatever we want to it. No, we haven’t found out if it’s a boy or a girl but we’ve picked out names for either. Josie’s finally out of the puke-your-heart-out-at-all-times-of-the-day part of the pregnancy, so she’s happy enough. Sebas on the other hand, is a wreck most of the time because our place isn’t ready and Josie is supposed to fly over before Christmas to stay here until the due date.” He takes a huge breath after he’s done answering all my questions.

“It’s so weird that you’re going to be a dad,” I muse, and backtrack when I see Adam’s body tense all over. “But you’re going to be an awesome dad. You’ve got the best examples ever,” I tell him, believing every word wholeheartedly.

“Thanks,” he tells me quietly.

“Okay, so I guess I’m staying for a couple of weeks.”

“Fuck yeah,” Carter cheers.

“And you?” I ask him. “Are you finally going to finish that masters of yours?”

He groans and rubs his face harshly with both hands. “Don’t even bring it up,” he practically begs.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re giving him shit because he’s taking so few classes every semester,” Adam explains, and I have to sigh. I understand it has to be hard for Carter. He wants to take his time and figure himself out.

And that’s something I never thought he’d have to do when we graduated college more than six years ago, but life’s been rough for Carter ever since. I mean, his parents discovered he’d been lying his ass off about his major on graduation day, and then they died in a tragic accident the very next day on the other side of the world ... That shit hit Carter hard—obviously.

It changed everything for him.

It took us years to convince him to move to New York, to help out Sebas with his gallery and finally get his masters in art curating, but even when he got here it didn’t suddenly fix everything. It still hasn’t. The dedicated, studious, and sometimes too-serious man he was back then doesn’t exist anymore.

Now he’s a guy who just lives day by day and takes one class at a time. I know for a fact he does want the masters. He does want to find out where he fits in the world, and we’ll always be here to help him however we can, but there’s not much I can do to help him here.

“Have you talked to your advisor?” I wonder. “About why you want to take the whole thing one class at a time,” I clarify.

“No,” he admits quietly.

“Then maybe you should,” I say as gently as I can.

“I don’t need his pity,” he spits out and Adam sighs loudly.

“It’s not for pity. It’s just to explain why you’re taking your time and why you need to do things your way. You try that or you give up and take all the final classes next semester,” Adam tells him mercilessly. I’d bet anything they’ve had this conversationmore than once and that’s why my best friend is all out of patience.

I keep quiet though, and wait for Carter to give in, which thankfully, doesn’t take too long.

“I’ll talk to him this week, now can we please move on? How about we go get Sebas, Mike, and Theo and go out for a bite to celebrate CJ staying around?” he asks as he stands.

“We just stuffed our faces with cinnamon rolls,” I point out.

“So? That was the appetizer, come on.”

Two Weeks Later

I takeone step out of the elevator of my apartment building in LA, a suitcase in each hand, and everything inside me freezes at the sight in front of me. Sitting on the floor in front of my apartment is the last person I ever thought would be here.

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