Page 119 of Daily Grind
They were doing really fucking well at the moment.
In his heart, Rob was a technologist. Oh, he performed the role of CEO well enough, but he still ached for the hardware bench. Occasionally dreamed in code. Which is why he had a CFO and a board of directors to handle his blind spots—like what to do with the company now. How to grow it.
“You know I’ll do my best to get Agella on board.” Rob toyed with the cord of his headset. “I wasn’t stalling on the meeting. I… needed to handle some personal things.” Now they were handled, for the worst, but there it was.
A grunt from Chris. “Pleasure before business?”
“No.” He studied his laptop. “My father dropped dead when he was fifty-one. Some things have to come before business because that can’t be all there is.” If only he could have explained that to Brian.
A creaking over the line—Chris shifting in his seat. The man had a wife. Kids. Spent quite a bit of time away from them. “Understood.” He cleared his throat. “Have they sent you an agenda yet?”
A very loose one. He sent it over and strategized with Chris until they were both satisfied with how Rob would approach Agella, then said their good-byes and hung up.
Rob lifted the headset off and placed it on his desk, his thoughts whirling around the future of CirroBot—and what could have been with Brian.
He rubbed a finger over his lips. He’d screwed up. In his effort to help, he’d barged in with no knowledge whatsoever. The owner in him understood how much that hurt, but the lover? Goddamn, he had just wanted to make things better for Brian.
For his effort, he’d gotten cursed at and tossed out of Brian’s life. There wasn’t anythingotherthan business for Brian.
He spent the rest of the workday pulling his thoughts away from his failed relationship and squarely back on his company. Meetings, some demo, scheduling, and more meetings. By the time he biked home—still in his suit despite the heat—he was exhausted.
He changed into shorts and a t-shirt and went outside to his little garden. The least he could do was take care of it, after all the effort of Brian’s father. A few weeds had crept in and he pulled those. Blossoms and a few tiny green tomatoes and peppers on the bushes.
Sitting in the grass in the sun kept his body warm—but not his soul. This task, as enjoyable as it was, reminded him of Brian.
He ought to figure out what a garden like this cost to build and slip an envelope in the Kepplers’ door, though Tony would likely stuff the envelope back, along with some choice words.
Did they know? Rob finished tidying up the garden, stopped inside for a second to wash his hands and grab a beer, then plopped down on the large lounge chair on his back porch. He kicked off his beat-up boat shoes.
The pain, the ache, the need for Brian lingered all around, in the scent of the earth and in the taste of his beer. The faint whisper of wind chimes from a few houses down.
There, itching through him, was the desire to reach out. Maybe Brian was sorry—but would that change anything? Rob took a draw on the bottle, leaned into the padding of the chair, and studied his toes. They’d end up circling around to the shop eventually, and it was pretty obvious where Rob ranked in Brian’s life when it came to Grounds N’at.
Brian had warned him, too. All of his relationships fell to that place.
Rob wiggled his left big toe and sighed. Would he give up CirroBot for Brian? That was a legitimate question.
Yes.
If it meant keeping Brian, then yes. But the answer—and the question—wasn’t fair. After all, he’d made changes at CirroBot so hecouldhave more free time, even before he’d met Brian. He could quit tomorrow, and not have to worry about a paycheck for a very, very long time.
There was a great deal of privilege in that.
Besides, he never asked Brian to give up the shop. But watching Brian grow stressed and sick and unhappy—and knowing he wasn’t important to Brian—that was too much.
Maybe asking Brian for more time together wasn’t fair. He didn’t know.
He closed his eyes. Didn’t matter at this point. He was used to living with the ghosts of others. He’d get through this, too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Since the dayhe tossed Rob out of Grounds N’at, Brian found it harder and harder to paste on a smile and add that happy lilt to his voice during the workday.
And all he was doing latelywasworking. He wiped a table free of crumbs and checked the state of the half-and-half pitcher.
He’d had two shifts off since he’d told Rob to get the hell out, and every hour in Grounds N’at was like walking barefoot on broken glass. Less and less people frequented the shop and he couldn’t blame his customers for not wanting to be served by the world’s grumpiest barista.
He rubbed his forehead.
