Page 50 of The One Decent Thing

I found myself laughing too. “Are all reporters this nosy?”

“Yep,” she said unrepentantly. “Abso-fucking-lutely. I always need the end of the story. So thanks for indulging me.” She started to put her papers in order. She’d referred to them a few times and jotted things down while I was talking, and there were even more Post-it notes now. “So, back to the part of this thatisgoing to be public. My editor’s going to be so, so all over this. You have no idea. I’m guessing he’ll want it on the front page, and he’ll probably hold it until Sunday, since we have a lot of Sunday-only subscribers. I’ll text you a heads-up when it’s going to run for sure, but I’m not going to send you the article before it’s printed. We don’t do interview approvals. Fair enough?”

Moment of truth. I swallowed hard. “Fair enough.” Nissa started to reach into her purse, and I shook my head. “Bill’s on me.”

“Nope, can’t, that wouldn’t be on the up-and-up,” she said. “But leave Jennifer a really big tip, okay? I’ll be in touch soon.” Nissa winked, gathered up the last of her stuff, and headed toward the door. I was pretty sure I heard her mutter, “Finally a fucking front-page byline!” under her breath.

Fishing out a couple of twenties for Jennifer gave me time to calm down enough to be ready to drive.

Aidan was going to be waking up soon and finding the note I’d left on the kitchen table telling him I’d gone out for a while, not to worry, and that I’d see him soon.

Time to work things out, like a goddamn grown man. And then probably cry on Aidan’s shoulder like a teenage girl. But hey. Baby steps.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aidan

It was lucky I’d picked up an extra pack of smokes on the way home from work the night before, or I’d have gone crazy waiting for Sebastian to come home from — and that was part of what was making me crazy. I had no idea where he was. He didn’t have classes on Wednesday mornings.

Probably with Chris, but then why wouldn’t he have just said he was with Chris? Not that he owed me an itinerary, or anything, but he was upset, we’d had — a fight? I wasn’t even sure if we’d had a fight, but it felt like it — and I was worried about him.

Clearly, I needed to take a step back and either worry less or show it less, because Sebastian taking off without giving me any details was a strong message to mind my own business.

It stung. I’d thought it was getting to the point where his businesswasmy business.

Maybe I should’ve set a good example by not conveniently forgetting to tell him something I knew he wouldn’t want to hear when I was focused on having sex with him as much as physically possible.

Chainsmoking didn’t solve anything, but it was all I had. The back yard wasn’t a bad place to brood. Over in the corner, there, near the fence, would be a great place for a fruit tree. Maybe a lemon? Those grew amazingly around here, producing fruit all year round. I had no idea if Sebastian liked lemons, but an orange would work too. And along the other side, by the shed, would be good for a vegetable garden in the spring. The neighbor’s trees didn’t shade it out too much.

As long as Sebastian still wanted me there in the spring, of course.

Right back to brooding I went.

I’d woken up earlier than usual, and so even though it was only a little after eleven when I heard Sebastian get home, it felt like I’d been waiting forever. My half-smoked cigarette went straight into the ashtray, and I rushed into the house and made it to the bathroom before the front door opened. After washing my hands and brushing my teeth, and a rinse with mouthwash — because optimism was a better attitude than assuming I’d never be kissing him again — I stepped out into the hall.

“Aidan?” He was in the living room, and he sounded normal enough. A little breathless, maybe, but okay. “I’m home.”

When I stepped out of the hall I found him toeing out of his shoes and hanging up his jacket, just like he always did. Why I felt like it should have been different this time, I wasn’t sure. I felt different. The thought of losing him was almost worse than the thought of going back to prison. Hell, if I’d been given the choice of being a free man forever and losing him, or going back inside for a couple more years with the promise of him waiting for me on the outside? Gun to my head, I’d have walked right back into my cell.

The wordswhere were youwere on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back. Nope, not pushing him. “Have a good morning?”

There, that was slightly less demanding, but unfortunately it also came out sounding sarcastic. Fuck.

Sebastian flinched a little. “It was — good, yeah. I think. But we need to talk.”

And there it was, the most clichéd break-up line in history. I went cold all over, my ribs squeezing in and compressing my lungs until it hurt. That was my working theory, anyway, since I was mostly sure hearts couldn’t actually break.

I wouldn’t make him say it. This was the last thing I could do for him, after everything he’d done for me: make it easy for him to get rid of me. Rick, or Jason, or someone else at work would let me crash on their couch for a week, and one of them would point me to someone who needed a roommate, and I’d be all right. Thanks to Sebastian taking me in, and vouching for me to Rick, I’d be all right.

Physically, anyway.

“I can be out of here by the time you get back from class this afternoon. Don’t worry about it, okay? You don’t have to…” I didn’t have enough oxygen to finish the sentence.Tell me to my face that I’m not good enough for you? Give yourself a panic attack because confronting someone directly freaks you out so much?

Sebastian stared at me, his mouth falling open. The keys in his hand dropped to the floor with a jingle, and he slumped back against the front door.

“You’re — oh my God.” He put his shaking hands over his face. “You’re breaking up with me. I knew it. I knew it, I knew it wouldn’t work, I knew it was too good —”

“No, no, baby, no.” I was across the room and yanking him against me before I could think. “I’m not breaking up with you, I’d never break up with you.” I petted his hair, kissed the side of his head, and held him so tightly I could almost hear his ribs creaking. “You told me you needed space, and that we’d talk. And then you disappeared, and came home and said we needed to talk, which is always code for ‘I’m breaking up with you,’ so I thought I’d…save you the trouble. Me, break up with you? Sebastian, you’re smarter than that.”

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