I stare at the floor, but then his hand joins mine, warm and steady and large, and my cells celebrate.
Jesus, I’ve missed him so much.
“I told Rex I wouldn’t write the story. I told him it wasn’t ethical because we spent so long together. I promised you on the island I wouldn’t report on you. I’m not taking it back now. I swear.”
I turn to him. “Then why are you here?”
His face crumples.
“That didn’t come out right.”
His face remains frozen. Did other people say mean things to him? I hate them. I hate everyone who was ever mean to him.
“I’m glad you’re here.” My voice wobbles, because emotion is so not something I do. “I missed you.”
Then he breaks into a giggle. “That was hard for you, Tough Guy.”
I nod, and something about my expression makes him laugh again—that wild, uncool rumble that fills every corner of my apartment and makes me smile. Jesus, I’ve missed that sound.
“I miss you so much it hurts.” He points to his chest.
I’ve felt the exact same way.
I wasn’t planning on saying it.
I wasn’t planning on doing anything.
I was planning on suffering and missing and reliving our time over and over again and being devastated each time I remembered he is now only a memory.
But this Cal isn’t a memory. This Cal is standing right in front of me.
His way of coming here and talking to me is way better, and I grin.
“What is it?” he asks.
“You’re great at communication.”
He chuckles. “Well, it is my professional career. Would sort of suck if I was bad at it.”
“I really like you,” I say.
“I really like you too.”
I yank Cal forward. He tumbles against me, pressing me against the wall, just how I like it.
My cock jerks up happily.
Cal glances down. “Hello there.”
“He can’t talk back, you know.”
Cal shrugs. “I’m teaching him communication.”
My cock twitches again, visible in the thin material of my suit.
“See, it’s already working,” Cal says.
I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
