Page 91 of Robbie (Confessions 1)

He had a lot of decisions to make, ones he had a feeling would somehow set the course of his future. He just wondered what exactly that future was going to look like.

Chapter Twenty-Six

CONFESSION

Sometimes you don’t know what you want

until you actually get it.

ROBBIE STEPPED OUT of The Daily Grind and slipped his hand into the pocket of his black quilted peacoat as he tipped his face up into the morning sun. He had two coffees in a tray, and despite his life being in a bit of upheaval, he had a smile on his face. For a while now, he’d wanted to get back out on his own, and with his job at The Popped Cherry, he could finally afford it. This was actually the perfect time for him to hunt for a new place.

His nonna was going to need more help than he could give her, and his ma was right—she wouldn’t want him to put his life on hold to be her caretaker. It made sense with the tremors getting worse that she move into an environment where she could get the care she needed, because God forbid this happen again with a worse outcome. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Plus, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get his own place, since he had two men he was dating that he’d like to have stay over for the night instead of hiding away from prying eyes.

So, with a smile on his face, Robbie crossed the street and headed to the building that housed the law offices of Mitchell & Madison.

Priest had told him to stop by anytime, and when Robbie glanced at the clock in the beautiful marble lobby, he saw it was just going on ten. As he stepped onto the elevator with several other people, he hit the button of the new floor—the one where the infamous Christmas party had been held—and then moved to the back corner.

As the doors shut and the elevator began its ascent, Robbie couldn’t help but wonder if this had been the same elevator he’d been in the day Priest had first seen him. He smiled at the thought. He still couldn’t believe he’d been standing in such a small area with Priest and not sensed him there, because now, Robbie was convinced he or Julien could be in a room Robbie was blindfolded in, and he’d still be able to tell.

Hmm, maybe we could test that theory out, Robbie thought as the elevator hit his floor and opened. That would be fun.

He stepped out into the new lobby, and wow, this was the first time he’d been up here since the party, and it looked fantastic. Immediately off the elevators was a beautiful curved desk made of mahogany and marble, where the pretty brunette who’d worked downstairs had obviously moved.

She was perched on a chair with a headset on as she typed away at a computer, and behind her on a large mottled glass divider was a sign that read, Mitchell & Madison Attorneys at Law.

Off to the left was a new waiting room outfitted with comfortable-looking couches and chairs with magazine racks, a water fountain, and coffee bar with what looked like every coffee choice known to man, along with a very nice selection of fresh pastries.

Well damn, Robbie thought as he looked at the coffee cup in his hand. Guess Priest didn’t need this after all; he was just being nice. Wait? Priest being nice? No way. Robbie laughed to himself just as the woman looked up at him, smiled, and said, “Hello. How can I help you this morning?”

“Hi. Yeah. I’m here to see Priest,” Robbie said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Priestley. He’s expecting me.”

“Of course.” The lady—Tiffany, according to her nametag—smiled and pressed a button on her phone. “Who should I say is here?”

Robbie was tempted to say, “His princess,” but this was Priest’s place of business. “Robert Bianchi.”

“Okay,” Tiffany said, and waited for the phone to connect. “Hello, Mr. Priestley. There’s a Robert Bianchi here to see you.”

As Robbie stood there, he felt a frisson of excitement shoot up his spine at the thought of seeing one of the men he’d shared a bed with last night in mere minutes.

Tiffany ended the call and got to her feet. “If you’ll follow me?”

Robbie didn’t need a second invitation—he was eager to see Priest. He followed her down a hall that led past a glassed-wall conference room, and when they got to the end of it, Robbie saw the office Tate had dragged him into with a light off, but the name Logan Mitchell was on a plaque by the door.

Funny, but up until right then, Robbie hadn’t even thought about the fact he was standing in Logan’s place of business, and usually that would be the first thing on his mind. Huh.

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